“We’re going to be hunting the deadliest prey. MAN!”
“Oh. Okay. I see what you’re getting at. But…I have kind of a question.”
“Go on.”
“Yeah. See, probably some men are pretty deadly. But I can’t help but notice that you’ve picked out a wino for us to hunt.”
“Yes, and?”
“Well…I don’t know that he’s much of a survivor. I mean, he’s barely surviving as it is, and that’s mostly because of the sun burning and dehydrating him.”
“He’s wild. Cunning!”
“I mean, maybe. But we’ve got guns and stuff. And 4-wheelers. Look at his skin. It’s yellow. This guy’s jaundiced if not in total liver failure.”
“Prey is all the more deadly when cornered, friend.”
“Okay, fair enough. I just kinda thought it was going to be a rhino or something. Those things are scary as shit. Have you ever seen a rhino running? It’s like watching a mountain come to life and try to stab you with a horn.”
“If you’re questioning my methods, YOU could be up next. IF you think that offers a special…challenge, you’ve been missing?”
“Oh, no. No, I don’t think that really makes sense. We don’t need to get into a person’s ability to criticize versus ability to create. Sure, I’m not an airline pilot, but I can still recognize a rough landing. Just because I can’t do better-”
“Okay, how about you shut the fuck up and we go kill a bum. He’s had, like, 9 quarts of fortified wine. He might just explode if he touches a flame. He’ll never be more ready. Let’s roll out!
“Fine. But I’m not touching the corpse. If you did a report on the types of hepatitis that dude is harboring you could teach a kid the entire alphabet.”