Contacting Equivalence
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Thursday, December 31, 2009

The Hunting Party

Current mood: multinationals > governments

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Because of recent spikes of interest in wildlife and gunpowder, we will go hunting tomorrow. I'd love to go there by car during night, as long as 
  • I'm sitting in the right back seat so I can watch the headlights go by on the other side of the road. 
  • we drive for longer than an hour
  • and we have a leprechaun as personal escort. 
Those are my only conditions or terms or demands.
(nibbly noise of the accountant taking notes on a piece of scrap paper) 

We will arrive at a forest scene, with dark green and piercing scents of pine trees. After a brief briefing we should part ways and find our own destiny, fighting through the thick and spiky bushes. I myself am going to find a decently sized deer. As I will creep on him I will try my best not to let it hear or smell me, but suddenly the deer will turn around and tell me that I don't like hunting. All the forest friends will burst out in a symphonic cacophony of animalistic sounds, and there will be plenty of joyous singing and laughter; the deer might even use the most beloved puppy-eyes ever on me.  

Please lord, do not make me shrug 'n shoot.  

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