>>223072He told me if it was so important to me I should get a rock. Once again I was appalled, and asked if he at least had a knife or something. He said he did, but he needed it (turned out that was dad-speak for "I don't want you to use my things."
I found two rocks while he went looking for more frogs. I put one rock under the frog's head and after bracing myself for several minutes, finally smashed down on its head.
The rock sort of bounced off. Frogs, you see, have flexible, almond-shaped skulls, not tough nut-like skulls like us.
I was horrified, and thought I perhaps hadn't hit it hard enough. I tried again, and the frog still wasn't dead. I started to feel numb in my hands as I whacked it over and over and over. At one point its eyes were useless jelly and its skin and flesh had been scraped off its bottom jaw on the bottom rock.
"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SCREAMING?"
I hadn't noticed.
I gestured uselessly at this disgusting mess I had made, while the frog still struggled to get out of my left hand.
My dad grunted as if he was disappointed in me and split its skull open with his knife. I'd never seen animal brains before, and it was surreal feeling relief looking at them.
Dad told me to get in the truck. I made him promise to kill all the other frogs before he cut their legs off, but I was too shaken to actually make sure he did when we got home. Some time later, I came into the kitchen to see all those frog legs twitching while they soaked in brine.
That was my first hunting experience. I was about 10. I don't speak to my dad anymore.
I do still eat meat, and I do want to have a normal hunting experience at some point. I'm 24 now and I feel like I need to see what happens to an animal in order to not feel like a hypocrite for not being vegetarian. It's taken me a long time to work up to it. I've shared this story before, but I guess telling people helps me get over it. I hope nobody else ever has to deal with this shit. My dad's a fucking psycho.
