She Might Set Traps For Me From Above

RE: Hello‏

From:	Melville Rector (****@hotmail.com)
Sent:	Mon 4/19/10 12:45 PM
To:	****@hotmail.com

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But then, lions were not good at forgiving. As Ser Bronn of the Blackwater would shortly learn

Melville,

You are very right about lions, they hold grudges almost as long as they held my right arm after they ripped it off when I was leaning out of the window of the safari bus.  Do you know what my last thought was before it happened?  “That tour guide doesn’t know what he’s talking about, these lions look plenty well-fed to me.”  Well.  Egg on my face!  And blood.  And other people’s vomit.

But enough about me, Melville.  I want to know about you!  What flavor of pudding do you like?  Vanilla?  Espresso?  Would you kill a man to secure a lifetime’s supply of pudding?  I miiiight, it’d really depend on who my victim was.  If he was a good man, of course I wouldn’t kill him just to get at that delicious pudding, but what if he was a death row inmate?  Although I’m squeamish about the state having the power to kill on my behalf, if I take out the middle man, isn’t that a more honest relationship with crime?  Wait...wait.  Privatizing the death penalty!  Forget the pudding, forget the pudding for a second, THAT’S the future.  Dream with me, Melville… 

“Are you a billionaire bored with the same old hunting trip?  Tired of shooting at wolves from a helicopter like a total pussy?  Well then strap a rocket pack called LIFE to your back and match wits with the most dangerous game of all:  MAAAN.” 

I’m thinking Warren Buffett, Sir Richard Branson, the fat one from N*Sync, one of those Russian oligarchs, maybe an Olsen twin or two.  They’re tired of their caviar and canapés, Melville, they want the sweet stench of gunpowder in their nostrils and the hot, slick feeling of blood and fresh marrow on their hands as they pull the still-beating heart of their prey out of his chest!  THEY WANT IT MELVILLE, THEY WANT THAT SO BAD!  So bad they can taste it.  Every time a billionaire goes to some brain-dead fashion show he or she is really thinking about the relative strengths and weaknesses of the people around them.  “That waiter looks like he could run far, I’d probably need hounds to keep on his trail.”  “I wonder if that model is any good at climbing trees?  Her legs are certainly long enough…oh God she might set traps for me from above, I’d best take out one of her ankles, keep her on the ground!” This is all they think about!  MELVILLE I SWEAR IT’S ALL THEY THINK ABOUT YOU’VE GOT TO BELIEVE ME.

We’ll offer the death row inmates money for their families if they’ll agree to be hunted in our private game reserve located deep in the blackest heart of the Canadian Rockies.  We’ll send pay-per-view offers to everyone with an American Express Black card and, with the right market research, we can eliminate the bleeding-hearts who might be tempted to turn us in to the authorities (that old rascal Soros and his type).  Capitalism at its best, Melville, can’t you see?  The people win by having the cost of housing and feeding death row inmates taken off their hands, the state wins by having more cells to put non-violent drug offenders in, and we benefit by providing a unique service!  We’re establishing and filling a whole new market niche, doesn’t it just make your erection so, so painful?  You KNOW it!

I’m going to work on the perfect logo/letterhead, you get back to me with some possible locations, preferably where we can easily set up at least a T1 internet line for live HD video streaming.  This is an exciting time, Melville, and I’m sure I speak for everyone at Ultimate Prey, Ltd when I say

Happy Hunting,

Terry V. MacKultenlash, Esq.