Roy Porkus walked proudly beside Gerald Ellon. Roy admired the man , he took what he wanted all right, and damn was he greedy. Pual Ester walked between them. This was a private ranch owned by Piper Lawrance. Endless acres spread out before them , and on this vary private ranch ran four mollkins desperate to survive. The three men swayed as they walked , they passed a two thirds empty bottle of whiskey back and forth and they slapped each other's asses like macho straight men do. The landscape here was small gentle mounds of hills with little 200 hundred foot in diameter or less groves of trees scattered through-out. Nice place to shoot something! Ellon was bragging about how the previous night he had banged Cheryl Monel, the star of The kids are out. Roy spoke about how he had beaten up a pregnant protester and had gotten away with it because he also stole the digital camera of the asshole trying to capture it. That fuckhead went home with thirteen stitches and one less camera! Suddenly a Jack rabbit is startled from it's hiding place, it runs towards the nearest grove (somehow warping time behind it as it runs). No one there expected what was about to go down... Gerald Ellon raises his gun up quick and pulls the trigger. The bullet enters Paul Ester's head from the back making a nasty round hole, Ester's face blows out with the bullet, spraying Porkus with blood. "Wholly fucking hell!", Crys out Porkus as he picks sharp skull shards from his face and wipes the blood away with a silk hand towell. "God dammit god fucking dammit, fucking hell!", Screams Gerald Ellon, that drunken bastard got in my way, I didn't mean to do him. Porkus layed a comforting hoove on Ellon's shoulder and assured him it would just be considered a hunter accident with no blame assigned, they could even wait twenty four hours to get the booze and cocaine out of his system before reporting it. "Really? Thats great! Lets make it thrity six hours cause I need some whiskey now and we still have four Mollkins hiding out there, ready to be shot!". Porkus was taken aback by the man's strength of character, a inspiration to us all. The two went on through the more thickly wooded parts of the rance. They drank more booze and by now they are nearly blind drunk, the first Mollkin they scarred up, jumped up looking like a thick bloated foot, he ran naked away, juking and dodge, the pair missed after firing a few rounds each and he was out of site again.
"Fucking chicken shit Mollkin, your going pay for that!", Gerald Ellon screamed in rage. Porkus was rushing around the long way to flush out the inky black skinned game. He signalled for Ellon not to shoot him. They where covering to vantage points and creeping slowly, closing in on the hiding alien slave. Porkus heard a rustle in a thorny tangle of high weeds and he signalled to Ellon with a bird call, they gathered in front of the tangle grinning to each other. Ellon aimed his shotgun into the bushes and fired twice, a scream of anguish was heard and the Mollkin limped out on the other side, Porkus put a round into his back and he fell with a thick wet splash.