Cheetah Hunting

This is a little bit of a departure from what I normally write here. You won't find any lists or witty pop culture references. This is just a short story that I wrote, and ended up feeling pretty good about. It's about a highly fictionalized version of myself doing battle with a completely realistic cheetah. Hope you enjoy!

There is nothing quite like the rush of adrenaline you get from stalking an animal during a hunt. You must follow the subtle changes in the trail, whether it is a pile of droppings or a set of footprints left in the underbrush. Then, you finally catch up to your mark, and with a triumphant yell you finish it off. Whatever happens next is up to you. Stuff and hang it as a trophy, or skin the carcass and eat some of the juiciest meat you’ll ever have the pleasure of tasting. Hunting really is one of the most rewarding pastimes ever, because once you get decent at it, the rewards are virtually endless. You are only limited by how dedicated you are to the hunt. When you discover that dedication in yourself, it feels as though you could take on any animal in the world.

                Sometimes the hunts get difficult though. You walk for days without a single sign that you are on the right track. You’ll hear a familiar call echo through the wilderness and your heart will begin to pump with excitement. You chase after that call and get ready to make the final kill. It’s only when you finally catch up to it that you realize it wasn’t your mark, but just a baby cub or even another hunter using a call that fooled you.

                Even worse than that, sometimes the animal is just as smart as you are. They avoid all the traps; they seem to be able to hide no matter how hard you try to locate them. It seems as though they are the ones stalking instead of you. Such is the nature of this tale. My battle with the Cheetah.

                I set out to the desert on a warm, March afternoon. I carried only a pouch around my waist and a survival pack over my shoulders. I didn’t know yet then what I was going to try and hunt, only that I was not going to leave empty handed. A little more organization for the trip probably would’ve been helpful, but I didn’t feel the need to plan ahead. This trip was going to be fun and spontaneous. I had no set ideas, and all I wanted to do was go find an amazing mark to take back to my ever growing trophy case.

                The first night I set up camp about 100 yards from a small oasis. Close enough that I could get water when I needed, but far enough that I wouldn’t be disturbed by any potentially hostile wildlife. Around the perimeter of my camp I set up several bear style traps in case something got too close. After a quick dinner at my small fire, I put it out and laid down for the night. I wasn’t expecting anything especially exciting for the first few days. I just wanted to get a feel for the area and get my bearings.

                I was completely blown away then when I woke up to a cheetah nuzzling my face.

                Startled, I quickly rose to my feet and tried to reach for the pistol I kept next to my sleeping bag. It wasn’t there. I turned back to the cheetah and got into a defensive stance. There in the beasts mouth though, was my gun. She was just sitting there, holding my gun in her mouth. I had no idea how to handle the situation. She crawled around me sinisterly, and then dropped the pistol at my feet. She backed up, and then I swear she sat up, looked at me, and laughed. I was frozen in disbelief. Then, she turned around and sprinted into the distance. After I came to my senses, I picked up my cheetah spit drenched gun and began to try and look for any trace of the cheetah around my camp. Surely she set off one of the bear traps. I checked each trap, each time finding a small stick or rock wedged inside that had already set it off. This cheetah was good.  I laughed and shook my head. I’d found my mark for the trip. I was not going to leave till this cheetah was mine. After getting back to camp I wiped the gun down with a rag and attempted to sleep.

                After failing to sleep for the rest of the night, I set to work immediately once the light came back in the morning. I opened my survival pack and got out my Do It Yourself Mobile Laboratory. Inside that was my trusty cheetah spit analyzer add on that I had only packed on a whim. I squeezed what was left of the spit from the rag into the analyzer. Through some modifications and hacking into government satellites, I was able to remotely track any animal that I had a spit sample from with my GPS. It’s all very scientific and clearly possible if you have a basic understanding salivology. It’s a newer study but it’s definitely catching fire among the science world, especially among UFO-ologists and Big Foot stalkers.

                Now that I had the cheetah’s exact movements being beamed to my GPS, I began to follow. It was only a matter of time now.

                Imagine my surprise when I arrived at the source of the signal. I saw in the distance a single jeep sitting lonely in the sun. As I got closer, what I saw terrified me. I heard a gunshot. Then I saw the beast. The cheetah looked to be driving the car, with what looked like two other men who were most likely dead. Granted, I was far away but my eyesight is impeccable. I can read the whole poster whenever I see the optometrist.

                I quickly reached back into my survival pack and threw a magnetic cheetah tracer onto the jeep. As I look back it really is amazing how many cheetah specific items are in that survival pack. It seemed almost too easy. But, I digress.

                The tracer led me to the quaint town of Rock Springs, Wyoming. I realized it was sitting inside of the local Community College, probably biding its time until it unleashed its inevitable rampage on the poor, helpless students. There was only one thing I could do. I went undercover as a musical theater student, obviously the least intimidating of all the majors, and started going to school there.

                My luck got even better when my English teacher assigned us to write an essay on an animal in the museum. I had suspected that the museum was where the cheetah was hiding for quite a while. Without a valid reason to go inside however, I knew the cheetah would immediately suspect something. I mean, no one goes into a wildlife museum for fun. That’s just strange. Facebook was invented for a reason, now we can look at all the pictures of funny cats we want without leaving the comfort of our bedrooms.

                As I entered the museum, a kindly old man immediately greeted me. He told me to stay as long as I like, and if I had any questions to just ask him. I was about to inquire if he had a cheetah anywhere in the museum, but I stopped myself. I couldn’t involve him in this. It was too big a threat to his safety. This was something I had to do alone.

                I slowly wandered the museum. Countless types of animals were mounted on the wall, no doubt killed by the nefarious cheetah during her murderous rampage to her new lair. I began to silently weep at the devastation I saw around me. So many helpless animals mindlessly killed for no purpose other than decoration. As I reached the giant elephant, my heart stopped. I unleashed a mighty scream at the horror I saw before me. The cheetah had gone too far. Anything willing to kill nature’s gentle giant was deserving of the most painful death I was able to give it. I gave Dumbo his last rites, then I finally spotted her.

                The cheetah sat there, staring me down. She looked very calm considering the situation. I tried to reach out to grab her and begin our fight to the death, but the kindly old man stopped me. He explained that no one is allowed to touch the, “exhibits.” Obviously this was going to be much harder than I expected. I began to slowly creep across the museum, hoping to incite the cheetah into stalking me. The beast gave me no response. I walked up as close as I could, and began to make annoying slurp noises at the cheetah. I smacked my lips. I let my spit puddle on my tongue and then lapped it all back up. I thought I had her, but still she gave me no response.

                My frustration grew. I began to scream at the cheetah. I’m not proud of what I said. It was a profanity laced tirade that would have put the most hardened sailor to shame. Suffice to say my cover as a musical theater major was probably blown at the moment.

                The cheetah would not budge. She sat there, staring at me with her icy, evil glare. I only had one option left. I retrieved my Cheetah Killing Golden Crossbow from the survival pack and took aim. Just as I was about to shoot, the kindly old man put his hand on my shoulder again.

                “Son, what are you shooting at? The animal’s been dead for a few days now, no use in filling it with more holes.”

                I lowered my crossbow. I stared at the old man. He was lying. I took aim at him screamed at him to tell me the truth. He ran as fast as his old legs would take him out of the museum. I turned back to the cheetah. As I was giving my final monologue to her, the tip of my bow accidentally hit her in the face. She toppled over easily. Almost as if she… was already dead.

                So the old man was right. The cheetah I had spent the last week stalking, chasing, going undercover to kill was already dead. Most likely due to a heart attack set on by her knowledge that I would inevitably find and kill her for her misdeeds. I raised my hands to the sky in victory. The cheetah had failed to best me, and I had proved my skills to the animal kingdom again. I had proved to myself that no animal could escape me. No matter how evil, no matter how malicious the beasts can become, I will prevail. I felt the rush from winning flow up and down my veins. In the end, I decided not to stuff and mount the carcass in my trophy room. Instead I left an engraved plaque at the foot of the Cheetah. It read: Let this be a lesson to all evil animals. I will find you, and you will not escape.