What is it?
I'm being hunted for sport!
Are you sure?
What do you mean am I sure?
Because if you're being hunted for, like, all those kidnappings you committed, I can't help you. I got in a lot of trouble for that last time.
"Bucholz? Someone at the door for you."
Nope. Definitely being hunted for sport here.
Well, that's excellent news! Because I'm an expert on this.
How are you an expert on being hunted for sport?
I've been looking at pictures of Jean-Claude Van Damme on the Internet for the last three hours. At least some of those have been from his classic film Hard Target.
What? Just in a room by yourself?
Three hours every day.
Do you want my help or not, judgey?
I do. Very much so.
So where are you? Jungle island? Desolate urban landscape? A high-stakes paintball arena?
I was blindfolded, so I'm not exactly sure. There was some vehicle involved, too.
When you were blindfolded, did you hear any sea chanteys?
There were no sea chanteys, no.
So you're probably not on an island then. What's the terrain like?
A little rocky. Some trees.
OK. So let's assume they've driven you somewhere miles -- tens, hundreds of miles -- from civilization. They wouldn't want anyone seeing this. Do you know specifically who's hunting you?
That guy over there.
Wait, what? You can see the guy who's hunting you?
Yeah. He's waiting in his jeep over there.
Can you ask him not to hunt you?
He seems pretty set on it. We're actually well into the head start he's given me now, actually.
Is he alone?
No, his butler is here as well.
Wow, a butler. Serious power play. I don't even know where you get a butler nowadays.
They come from farms, right?
It was the butler who set the whole thing up, actually. He said that I just had to survive 24 hours and that they'd then let me live and give me $10,000.
And you needed the money that badly?
I'm beginning to realize that no, I didn't really. Oh my God, that's such a medium amount of money. What was I thinking?
You got dazzled by a number with so many zeros in it.
I'm more interested in what the rich guy was thinking. Offering a measly $10,000 for a guy's life. He was practically mocking you.
Man, why are the rich such assholes?
It's hard to say, although there is definite evidence of the wealthy behaving less ethically. It might stem from the greater sense of entitlement that growing up with plenty of resources could instill in a person. Maybe there's something in Perrier that does it. Hell, maybe they weren't hugged enough.
"You desire some crude squeezing motion of the arms? Percival, what's gotten into you?"
That's all fascinating, but shouldn't I be running somewhere now? That's kind of what I needed your help for.
Run? No. No way. You're going to have to find some way to fight this hunter.
Fight him? Won't it just be easier to evade him for 24 hours?
Probably. But he's not going to stop hunting you after 24 hours.
You understand that this isn't a legal thing to do, right? That he's not going to let you go back to civilization and tell everyone about your experience here.
Pros: Didn't die when hunted for sport.
Cons: Hunted for sport.
So what should I do?
You'll need a weapon. You said there were some trees around, right? Can you make a spear?
Maybe? That sounds pretty easy. Cavemen did it, right?
The preferable term is cavepeople, I think. Also, they rarely lived in caves. So just people, I guess.
Are you done?
But yes, people did make spears.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. How. Do. I. Make. A. Spear?
Take your knife and cut down a long, straight branch.
Then, using your knife, sharpen the end of that branch into a point.
Finally, find the balance point of the spear, where its weight is equally distributed. Use your knife to cut shallow, crosshatched grooves around that to form a grip. The spear will be easier to throw when held from this position.
What is it?
I don't have a knife.
Did you just say "long sigh" instead of actually sighing?
Rolls eyes. OK, fine, let's back up. A knife. Well, using some iron ore and your smelter, we'll need to-
What kind of stupid jerk goes anywhere without a smelter? Are you poor or something?
Fine. Do you have anything that could conceivably be used as a tool or weapon?
My fierce biting teeth?
Jesus. OK, let's find you at least a rock or something.
There's a big pile of rocks over here at the base of this cliff.
What kind of rocks?
Thin, flat rocks.
I said "thin, flat rocks" because that's the extent of my rock-describing ability.
Huh. OK, grab a couple of those. Can you throw rocks fairly well?
I'm not sure.
Throw some rocks at some other rocks just to try it out.
Should I be doing all this in full vision of the guy who will soon be hunting me?
Yes, definitely. I'm starting to get an idea of how this will work. How's your rock-throwing practice going?
I hit my foot.
This isn't working, is it?
You're not exactly the Most Dangerous Game here, no. I kind of feel bad for the hunter's wasted time. Murdering you will be like murdering a loaf of bread.
I can't tell you how much confidence that gives me.
It shouldn't, actually. That was an insult.
I got that, thanks.
Bread brings weak game to the death-sports world.
Still, I think I definitely see a way to get you out of this. It's kind of a technicality, but still. How much time do you have left on your head start?
Like 10 minutes.
It's going to be tight, but it should work.
I'll do anything.
You're going to need to lure him in close.
Tough to explain. And you need to take off your clothes.
You need to cover yourself in mud.
Because it will sort of look like you're half-remembering Predator, which will make you look ridiculous. You want him to take pity on you and come in closer before killing you.
You do. Now start covering your naked ass with mud.
OK. There isn't any mud here, though.
Even better! Pee on the ground first to soften it up. Then rub it onto your skin.
Remember: Pity is your friend.
This is pretty pitiful.
I .... fuck you. OK, that's done.
Quickly now! Scramble up the pile of shale!
-some time later-
How you doing there?
It's really hard! The thin, flat rocks-
The shale keeps slipping out from under me.
That'll happen. I'm counting on it.
-some more time passes-
Oh no! My head start is over! They're here!
How far up the hill did you get?
Like 40 feet. I can't believe I had a half-hour head start and I haven't gotten farther than a tennis court away.
That's a good thing. Pee-ty is your friend.
So they're parked at the base of this pile of rocks now?
Yeah. They've gotten out of the jeep now and are staring at me. The hunter is shaking his head, laughing at me.
Is the butler laughing?
He's not, but I think he wants to.
What a pro.
The hunter is shouting at me now. He wants to know what the fuck I'm doing.
Scream at him that you're about to "shoe him."
Like a shoe on my feet?
That's right. Then take off your shoes and tie the laces together to form a rudimentary bolo.
The butler's laughing a bit now.
Scream "Shoo!" at them, then start swinging the bolo around.
They stopped laughing.
Explain that there are two different spellings of "shoe" and that they're probably thinking of the wrong one.
OK, they get it now.
Yell "Shoo!" again and throw the shoes at them!
-loud crashing sound-
Did you yell "Shoe" or "Shoo"?
Because you clumsily threw the shoe bolo behind you, triggering a landslide of loosely consolidated rock?
Did this landslide kill the hunter?
No. He and the butler got out of the way in time. It totally buried their jeep, though.
How are you?
Surprisingly OK for a naked shoeless man who just rode a landslide.
Good! Great, even! And you should probably run now!
OK! Why am I running now?
Because you've destroyed all of their supplies and they're going to be pretty angry about that. Also, congratulations!
Because you're now no longer being hunted for sport! You're being hunted for food. Should you desire any further advice, please consult our guide, So You're About to Become a Really Foul-Tasting Meal.
Chris Bucholz is a Cracked columnist and the most dangerous game. He owes Bucholz fan and All Around Hero Mike S. a big thanks for the column idea. Join Chris on Facebook or Twitter to submit more suggestions for situations to get out of.