Revenge, Rape and Murder

Titus Andronicus.

Shakespeare.

We begin.

I’m a better hunter than you. 

I challenge all trophy hunters of animals big and small, that I can hunt you down anywhere/anytime. I’ll even allow you to use your opposable thumbs, big brains, 96 episodes of ‘Naked And Afraid’, and I’ll STILL trap you in the West Sudanian Savanna faster than the time it took you to destroy that beautiful giraffe. 

You don’t get a gun. The lions you murdered didn’t have guns. Fuck you. 

How long did it take you to murder that giraffe? A week? I’m pretty sure a can bag you in a day, bitch. Three days if I generously give you a head start. 

On one condition. After I hunt you down, I’ll face zero legal repercussions of the hunt and what I do with your body afterwards. 

Don’t worry I’ll send your blue ribbon trophy ass back home to your parents...

Baked in a pie like Shakespeare.

Titus slits their throats while Lavinia catches the blood in a big bowl.

Why, there your child, baked in this pie, Whereof your mother daintily hath fed, eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.

And GO!