The Hunter becomes the Hunted, then a Tree, then the Hunter again, and then a Pelican

By now, you’ve probably figured out that I had an ulterior motive for bringing you to my private island, so I might as well just say it: yes, I am planning on hunting you for sport. I hope you packed running shoes.

I suppose it was inevitable. When you’re a reclusive multi-billionaire, there are only so many things you can do with your vast amounts of spare time. I've tried all sorts of dangerous games, but none of them have been dangerous enough for me. Still, all of my reclusive multi-billionaire friends are constantly raving about how exciting manhunting can be, so let's give it a try. I’m sure we will both have a—

Why did you run off without letting me finish? You didn't even wait to hear all the rules. I was going to give you some primitive weapons and granola bars to make this more of a fair fight, but I guess you're just more eager to play than I was expecting. It seems the game has begun!

These broken twigs seems to indicate that you're heading towards the dock. I suppose you think that you can just highjack one of my many luxury yachts and head home, but that would be cheating. If you had stayed and gone over the rulebook with me, you would know that.

Hold on… the trail of footsteps stops here. Perhaps I underestimated you. Besides, what is that dark mass floating in my koi pond? Is that one of my personal security guards/butlers? Did you you overpower him and steal his rifle? And that other person standing over there, shooting at me while crying about wanting to go home—is that you?

I was not expecting this. Our game was supposed to involve more traditional weapons like improvised slingshots and sticks with pointy ends. But it appears that the tables have turned. This is especially heartbreaking because I spent so much time arranging and decorating those expensive tables.

Now I'm the one being chased through the jungle. I have the advantage of knowing the terrain pretty well (it is my jungle), but you do have a gun. Some sneakiness is required on my part. Maybe if I hold up these leaves and make tree noises, you won't notice me. Then I can trip you as you run past.

Ha ha! The disguise worked, and now the tables have turned once again, back to how I originally set them. Don't blame yourself: my impressions of tree noises are very convincing.

Well then. It appears that our dangerous game has reached its conclusion. You were a worthy opponent. Unfortunately, there are no silver medals in the sport of manhunting.

I'm pointing the barrel of the rifle at you now.

My finger is on the trigger.

The time has come. Good game!

...Wait, where did all these feathers come from?

Dan Markowitz