It was time to leave for class. Nate had just gone 10 feet from his building, when a heavy steel net came down
over him. It was like the kind Roman gladiators used. He stumbled and rolled on the ground entangling
himself thoroughly.
A man in camouflage fatigues and dark sunglasses stood over him with a rifle. He had a toothpick lodged
between his teeth and it bobbed up and down as he spoke.
"Gotcha, wolfboy, you won't be terrorizing any more coeds around here," he said kicking Nate in the side with
the toe of his boot.
"Who do you think you are? Stop that. Let me up!" Nate said as his tone went from confused to angry.
"First, dogboy, don't speak unless spoken to," he said punctuating it with another kick.
"Hey, you spoke to me, and the name's Nate, not wolfboy!"
"Uppity little cur," remarked the hunter kicking him two more times, "Let me rephrase that I don't speak to
animals expecting a reply. That means don't speak - period. Now where was I?"
"First, don't speak unless spoken to," Nate said in an irritated voice.
This time the boot kicked him in the head, "Don't speak!"
"But you asked me where you were?" Nate whined.
"I was speaking to myself - rhetorically!" the hunter said shaking his head.