The Demise of Number 6

My cell phone beeped, announcing a text message from Matthew. Expecting some continuation to the "anal RV" game, I opened the message and to my dismay read the following words, "Number 6 died on Sunday in town. Wah wah."

"WHAT!" I exclaimed and felt the air whoosh out of my lungs. How could Number 6, the valiant gorer of cars, chaser of humans, leader of the elk herd, be dead?! Dead!

Immediately, I called Matthew for the report on our Mammoth staple's death. He informed me that the ungulate biologist received a report and went out to identify the body. The red number 6 tag hung in the ear of the massive elk. It was affirmative. Number 6 had passed on to Elk Heaven.

No wounds lay on his huge form. His antlers sprawled across the snowy ground. His eyes glazed and gazing at the distant tunnel. I hope he died with dignity, fondly remembering the multitude of cars he had stabbed, tourists he had chased, and elk cows he had impregnated with little Number 6's. A good life's work.

Some people, I suppose, will blame the wolves for chasing, terrorizing, and scaring Number 6 to death. I think it must have simply been the final winter of his long and productive life. As he dreamed of his harem, he must have laid down his great, heavy head in the snowy plain, breathed a deep sigh of relief, and fallen into a wintery sleep.

I sincerely hope next year a Number 6 the Second will rise to the challenge Number 6 left us with. May he chill and thrill us with a high, long, romantic elk bugle. May this future bull amaze us with an enormous rack. May he keep his harem safe from harm. Most of all, may he become the future star that damages cars and chases people behind trees. May he ignite respect for the wild in the apathetic mind. May he thrill and excite us with his grace, power, and bravado.

To you, Number 6, I raise a toast, a cheer, and a thanks for your amazing life.