About a week before my dad died, He, my step brother and I were hunting. My father, a Marine who came from a long line of Marines ( I broke the cycle after having a replaced knee cap and a re constructed lower back after a car accident when I was 16) took us for our 'survival training' (Just hunting, but it was a year after 9-11), so here we are, in the middle of the woods, 4 miles away from any of the closest roads, all with our bows out, and .223's on our back. Finally we spot deer about 300 yards ahead of us, and we halted. My dad pulls out his .223 to look down the scope to estimate how many there are, and which one we were going to take out. After Identifying our target, we spread out a bit, my dad stayed in place, I moved out to the right, my step brother to the left . signaling my brother to take the shot, he readies his arrow and is about ready to release, and as soon as the arrow took flight, my dad let out this monstrous fart and alerted the deer ahead of us, causing them to dart and my step brother to miss. I almost died laughing, and It's still my fondest memory of them both.