Fishermen

The hunter, sitting in his folding chair out in the middle of the frozen lake with his fishing pole in hand, turned to the deer who was reeling in his empty line from the perfectly round hole in the ice and said, "I'm sorry about your cousin."

The deer took a swig from his Coors Light and replied, "That's ok, I never liked him anyways. He was destined to become venison chili some day."

They both laughed as they scooped the last few bites from their bowls. "Amen to that!"