In the distance, there was the faint hum of an airplane. When he looked to the other side of the bed, he finally noticed the dead bird his cat brought to him in his sleep.
Only mildly disgusted, this happened all too often, he left it sitting there as he pulled on whatever outfit was closest at hand. After he dressed he turned to the bird, considered it for a minute or two, and finally went outside to bury it in the yard. He would have to remember to pet his cat later. She would be offended if he didn't thank her properly for her generous gift. Cats are so weird.
He walked downstairs, only to find his cat on the couch. When he went over to pet it, he realized she wasn't moving at all. Checking for a pulse, he found none. Holy shit, he thought to himself. My poor cat must have died trying to teach me how to hunt. He pet his dead kitty.
Then it sort of hit him. His cat had instinct to teach him how to hunt because she couldn't believe how an animal could survive without this knowledge. He had always thought this amusing and ridiculous. But was it? His tiny little dead kitty could catch a a rabbit half its size for dinner. It could move fast enough to bring down endless birds that had the ability to fly. Flying is so crazy, but that's a different point. He could ever do any of these things. He could never just go into he woods and come out with a caught rabbit. A tiny little rabbit was too much for him. Humans really are useless.
But that would never stop him from trying to hunt a rabbit. He got in his black Chrysler and drove to the nearest forest preserve. He knew what he had to do. Getting out of the car, he walked to the nearest open grassy area. Suddenly it hit him -- there was a rabbit just across the field. He did just as his cat would have -- he got on all fours and started chasing it down. Instinctively he got in the stalking position and slowly moved in on the rabbit. Naturally, with his six foot human frame, he wasn't hidden at all, and the rabbit began to bounce away. He pounced and began his uncoordinated attempt at killing his prey.
The rabbit had soon disappeared and he suddenly was very aware of how he looked crouched down on all fours trying to hide in grass. Grass is a horrible hiding spot. He got up and walked toward the forest trying to figure out any advantage his two-legged stance would give him. He was slower, less agile and much less determined than his little adversaries. A few feet into the trees he stopped and examined his surrounding. No movement. He continued ahead a little further until he finally came across sign that a rabbit might be nearby; a rustling from behind some underbrush.
He got back into the cat-like position. This time, he aptly hid behind a tree. At the precise moment the rabbit got close enough for him to get a jump on it, he miraculously pounced very far. The rabbit's reflexes served him well, as he quickly scurried off in the opposite direction. The man was learning to use his legs and arms most efficiently in this form. The legs would power him through each motion and the arm would stabilize him. As he was undergoing this realization, the town sheriff was loading darts into his tranquilizing rifle. Perching the rifle onto the hood of his car, he steadied his aim at the man.
"What the hell is this dumb kid doing?" the sheriff mumbled to himself as he stood on the ledge. The kid looked like a fool down there leaping around like he was playing leap frog in elementary school. "Must be on drugs" was his next thought. The Sheriff pulled out his tranquilizing gun, his weapon of choice when dealing with crazies he did not wish to approach conscious. He steadied the gun on the hood of the car, aiming toward the kid and shot. Right in the back. The kid stumbled for 10 seconds or so until falling into the leaves. "Got 'im".
He awoke in the back of a rape van. No windows, no nothing. The cops had thrown him in the van inside a large tan yard-work bag. Every turn they made resulted in his body being thrown against the walls of the car. Suddenly the car screeched to a halt. The back door was opened frantically, only for more cops to step up to the back holding boxes. They set the boxes down, opened them, and each pulled out a real live panda! We're talking fucking real pandas here. So the cop sped off and took fast turns once again, only to smash his body into pandas, instead of walls. The pandas were getting angry.
Despite their anger the Pandas did not kill the kid. Soon he became fully conscious once more and began to realize the dire situation he was in: trapped inside a yard-work bag, in the back of a truck filed with renegade cops, surrounded by angry pandas. And that's when he noticed the bomb. The kid suddenly felt more in touch with destiny than he ever had in his life. He knew what he had to do. He reached his hand out of the small opening in the end of the bag and toward the large red "BOOM" button. His hand made contact and he thought of the sea.
RIP young hunter
A story by Mada Larson and Adam Grainawi