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A recorded reading of “The Modern-Day Hunter”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
Pitting my skills, my instincts, my wits, against fast food restaurants where convenience sits. Pre-packaged prey, neatly boxed to go, I’m a hunter of the modern age, don’t you know? No spears or bows, just plastic and card, I stalk my quarry in aisles well-guarded. A hunter and gatherer in fluorescent light, plundering the open fridge late at night. No forest calls, no wild game chase, just the hunt for deals and an expiration date. With a basket in hand, I prowl and I scheme, snagging the last slice like it’s a primal dream. Oh, the thrill of the hunt when the freezer doors open! A conquest of microwaves, a feast pre-broken. No fields to roam, no stars to guide, just neon signs that welcome me inside. I am the predator in a concrete jungle, snatching hot fries with a dexterous fumble. The world may change, but instincts remain, a hunter is a hunter—whether steak or chow mein.
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