"To the Hunt! To the Hunt!"
"I love it every year, Chauncey: the annual "Shot to Smithereens Fox Hunt."
"Yes, what great sport, Maximilian! Did you see my new hunting rifle? It's a double speed triple axle Kill the Little Sucker Mangler."
"Good show. Look Chauncey, a small fox right now, running through the meadow!"
"He's about to feel the wrath of our mighty thunder."
"Wait! What's that he's got in hand?"
"It looks like a semiautomatic assault rifle. Wherever could such a creature secure one of those in the United States without ID and back ground check?"
"He's firing rapid rounds!"
"That's so unfair, Maximilian. Why doesn't he pick on someone his own size?"
For some reason the Friday Fictioneer picture prompt above made me think of fox hunts, so I thought I'd take a potshot (as opposed to a rifle shot) at what would seem to be the cruelest sport since bullfighting.
Hopefully most of you will not go "to the hunt," but as far away from it as you can. Better to go instead to the offerings of the other Fictioneers by clicking here.
I am without a functioning laptop this week, so I fear I will do an exceptionally poor job of reading other people's stories this time around instead of my usual poor job of reading other people's stories. Sorry, but I'll be sure to hunt for your stories next week!