"Son, wait up a minute," said the ranger to Jory, "Did you bag this beast yourself?"
"No. sir. Mr. Marsden did, but he said I could borrow Jeff."
"That Mr. Marsden over there. Well, come along, I gotta make sure that his hunting license is in order, and that he's not poaching."
"But it's his own son."
"Yeah, but it's Jock Season, and while it's easier to bag your own boy, you still have to pay the license fees."
"Hello, sir, nice buck you got there. Do you mind if I see your hunting license?' the ranger asked.
"Well, certainly, here you go."
"This is only authorized for one buck."
"Well, I've got two sons-"
"Sorry, sir, I'm going to have to confiscate this one," he said putting his gloved hand on Greg's face.
"Well, can't you confiscate that one?" he said pointing at Jeff on Jory's shoulder..
"Sir, my detector indicates when each jock was inanimated. You bagged that one first. So this is the one that you acquired over the limit. So it's the one I have to confiscate. Now gentlemen, I'll need to examine your licenses and trophies too."
Chandler whispered to Steven, "Steve, you didn't bag any. Your license good for one or two? I'll let you have the two I bagged after Chad."
The other hunters shuffled their feet. Greg could only stare glassy-eyed at his father. He was sure the ranger's voice sounded familiar, but couldn't place it. He felt a cardboard evidence tag being stapled to his ear, and then he was hefted into the back of a van with several other confiscated jock trophies, and apparently Bill had shot two other jocks, so the ranger shoved one erect cock on a plaque up Greg's ass, and the other one down his throat. Greg gagged.