The Hunted Hunter
They’ll want to check the wreckage to confirm I’m not inside.
Keeping low to the ground, I hurried away from the crash as the hunters pulled up, hooting and hollering like the demented Americans they are. Now I don’t mean to say all Americans are demented. But the American hunters are an uncouth sort that takes a weird joy in killing, things being on fire, and vehicles getting into accidents.
Whatever the case, their joyful hoots and hollers that I might be dead and arguments about who gets to take credit gave me time to get away. I hurried to the nearest neighborhood to search for a car to take.