I stalk My Prey.

I am the master of the world.

I sense everything. My eyes can see the

fleas on an animal's back two hundred metres away.

My nose can smell the fear of The Stalked through

miles of jungle. My eyes can sense the slightest

tremor in the skin of the lizards high above in the

trees.

I slither quietly through the jungle,

noting the location of everything. I stay low to the

ground, blending in with the sights and sounds.

I respect my prey, for he is

admirable, despite his many flaws. Everyone can not

be as perfect as I.

I hope by killing My Prey, I can

survive long enough to mate, and pass on my genes.

I near my prey, quiet as

ever. My claws tear into the ground, shredding the

ferns as I will shred My Prey.

I tense as My Prey

approaches. I hope I will succeed.

I stalk My Prey.

I am the master of the world.

I know everything. My

night-vision goggles can detect a mouse asleep under a tree.

My GPS can pinpoint my location, accurate to a few

footsteps. My laptop can tell me everything I need to know

about My Prey, and hid weaknesses.

I crash loudly through the jungle,

ignoring all but My Target. I stomp through the

underbrush, waking all creatures.

I am full of contempt for my prey. He

is backward, and knows nothing. I am perfect.

I hope by killing My Prey, I can afford to

buy a new convertible, and buy a house on Rodeo Drive.

I near my prey, loud as ever. I slide the safety off

on my gun, powerful enough to knock a monkey out of a

tree a mile away.

I am confident as My Prey approaches. I will succeed.

I fire.

I pounce.