“Well. That was fun.” But it doesn’t get me fed.
Mark Caten barged towards the cage. His garlic scent was especially strong.
Ambrose smiled. “Or maybe it does.”
“You lime sick sack of diseased vulture guts!”
“Is there a problem?”
“Problem? Problem? You destroyed all of my cameras. How am I supposed to watch you now?”
Ambrose laughed. “Not at all. Apparently.”
“Oh, you think you’re sooo funny. You think this is all just a fun-filled game.”
“I’m in a cage. I’m hungry. I don’t see any way to escape. I’d hardly say that this is fun or a game.”
“Oh, you’re hungry. Oh, boo-hoo-freaking-hoo. My hunter’s coming. She’s going to mess you up so good. I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
“I’m sure you will.” He smirked. “Just not on your tv screen.”
“Why don’t you come in here and make me shut up?”
“Oh, you’d like that.”
“It’s what you want. I broke your stupid dinky Walmart brand $1.99 a piece on sale for 85 cents cameras.”
Mark Caten grabbed the bars. “I bought them at Neiman Marcus, you heathen! And they were full price!”
Ambrose lunged forward and dug his claws into the back of Mark’s hand, causing the other man’s fingers to involuntarily spring open. He yanked the freed hand into the cage and bit its wrist.
The blood poured in. Ambrose moaned blissfully as the blood high took over.
When he returned to his senses, Mark Caten was gone.
The cruel hunter stood in his place.