I met Grady in a little town called Vernon, Florida. Grady was missing his left arm, clear up to his elbow...just like Amos Moses. The weird thing was, most of the people I met there were missing a foot, or a hand, or something. I figured they just lived too close to some power lines, or some Gator had been making meals out of them for years, but Grady told me that he had done this to himself for an insurance scam. That is fucking dedication. You can fake a limp, but amputation is forever.
Grady was an avid Wild Turkey hunter....I like whiskey as much as any functional alcoholic, but he meant the actual animal. I told him that if he wanted turkey, I could run over to Subway, and get him a 12 inch sub (on his bread of choice, with chips, and a soda) for like 6 bucks. But he was more into the "mental contest" that is hunting. A turkey's brain is about the size of a walnut. Enjoy the challenge.
Extra deduction because that turkey looks nothing like the outline of my hand.
What this tattoo says about the wearer:
Happy Fuckin' Thanksgiving.