- Joined
- Aug 8, 2021
When a buck acts outta line, his master tracks him down like an animal, tie him up an' break him. Ain't nothin like a good breakin to satisfy ya buck.
When I was younger my family called me the buck breaker. After I got married my wife's family called me the great nigger slayer. Now I don't particularly care for it anymore, but I have kids that want to go buck breaking so I go with them. My kids have been breaking bucks since they were three. A couple of years ago the middle child decided he wanted to go break a few bucks. The younger two are only interested in breaking the buck, but the eldest knows that true satisfaction lies in watching ol' bucky squirm. I rarely even break a buck now days. If a buck acts up, I tell my youngest to go get his gun and he takes care of it for me.
Today I was walking out back to look at something and I saw some nigger cattle. Middle kid had been pestering me about wanting to go for a cattle drive so I walked back up to the house and told him to get his shotgun and some nerve gas. Yes my household has access to chemical weapons, but we probably have more experience with them than most of you thin-wristed faggots reading this. True wisdom is not earned by following the geneva convention, but by realizing geneva is a city fulla fags who ain't got the balls to make me follow their dumb conventions.
Look at this faggot, any one of my kids would have broken him first chance they got; ain't no use for a vulgar, ornery nigger like bucko here.
Here's a pic of my eldest son and daughter. They're all grown up now, but they still take after daddy. Nowadays, they have a lotta trouble breaking them there bucks due to laws and civic codes and shit, but they still manage to bag a few with ol great grampy's zastava. That dang commie gun has served my family well through the generations, and there ain't never been a buck who could outrun the sheer firepower of 12.7x55. My eldest son owns the zastava now, passed it down to him 'ere bout a decade ago when he turned 18 and became a real man. Now he's gone off an bought a 300 winchester to bag some of the bigger bucks. Ain't nothin like seeing junior carry on the family trade to put a tear in the old man's eye.
I'm done rambling. Now it's your turn.
When I was younger my family called me the buck breaker. After I got married my wife's family called me the great nigger slayer. Now I don't particularly care for it anymore, but I have kids that want to go buck breaking so I go with them. My kids have been breaking bucks since they were three. A couple of years ago the middle child decided he wanted to go break a few bucks. The younger two are only interested in breaking the buck, but the eldest knows that true satisfaction lies in watching ol' bucky squirm. I rarely even break a buck now days. If a buck acts up, I tell my youngest to go get his gun and he takes care of it for me.
Today I was walking out back to look at something and I saw some nigger cattle. Middle kid had been pestering me about wanting to go for a cattle drive so I walked back up to the house and told him to get his shotgun and some nerve gas. Yes my household has access to chemical weapons, but we probably have more experience with them than most of you thin-wristed faggots reading this. True wisdom is not earned by following the geneva convention, but by realizing geneva is a city fulla fags who ain't got the balls to make me follow their dumb conventions.
Look at this faggot, any one of my kids would have broken him first chance they got; ain't no use for a vulgar, ornery nigger like bucko here.
Here's a pic of my eldest son and daughter. They're all grown up now, but they still take after daddy. Nowadays, they have a lotta trouble breaking them there bucks due to laws and civic codes and shit, but they still manage to bag a few with ol great grampy's zastava. That dang commie gun has served my family well through the generations, and there ain't never been a buck who could outrun the sheer firepower of 12.7x55. My eldest son owns the zastava now, passed it down to him 'ere bout a decade ago when he turned 18 and became a real man. Now he's gone off an bought a 300 winchester to bag some of the bigger bucks. Ain't nothin like seeing junior carry on the family trade to put a tear in the old man's eye.
I'm done rambling. Now it's your turn.
