A Funny Thing Happened When We Moved to the Country

I have the opposite type of stoey: I'm from the country so...A funny thing happened when I moved to the city:
I lived in the outskirts of D.C. for two years and brought a little bit of the country with me. I'd always dreamed of entertaining, and with the public transit system, it was at last easy for everyone to get to my house. I threw dinner parties about once a month, usually serving whole roast chickens or something equally inoffensive. One Saturday, however, I decided to serve venison. My dad had given it to me the weekend before during a trip back home and I was eager to serve it to my city friends. Cooked up in red wine, sprinkled with pearl onions and cranberries, it would have passed for a tender, rare-cooked strip of beef. As forks hit plates, folks sighed with delight, and compliments rolled in, I smiled inwardly. When the last person had taken a few bites of the meat, I made my announcement: The meat they were eating wasn't beef, but venison from a deer my dad had hit with his truck on the way home from work.

Everyone kept eating.