The Hunt Family: Michael, Sarah Ferguson, and Hercules

by mike rotch

It has been almost a year since the Hunt family moved in on my block. They seemed like nice people at first. Mike Hunt would always drool at some of the more attractive ladies in the neighborhood, but he repeatedly failed to molest anyone. The neighbors didn't mind too much that Sarah Ferguson Hunt (who admired the Duchess of York so much that she often referred to herself as the "Duchess of York" Hunt) liked to do topiary, only getting mildly angry when she sculpted their bushes into animalistic shapes. Hercules, or Herc, Hunt loved to play baseball, swinging his homemade bat, "The Stick", at any balls that people would hurl at him, breaking only the minimal number of windows.

But after a time, the Hunt family started to grate on me. They never seemed to bathe. Indeed, Mike Hunt's odor was nothing short of repulsive. And the "Duchess of York" Hunt never seemed open to a good time, always closed lipped and recluse. Herc Hunt was the worst, though; Herc Hunt would always get into fights and bleed all over everyone's carpets. Fucking guy never died though. He would bleed and bleed, staining everything in sight, but he never met his maker.

One day, a few weeks ago, someone had a big barbeque and invited everyone on the block. Those dumb Hunts showed up and gorged on the feast. They got filled up and bloated, and proceeded to vomit baby Hunts into the world. So now, in addition to Michael Hunt, Sarah Ferguson Hunt, and Hercules Hunt, we are blessed with the likes of the newly spawned Auerc, Thairk, and Hizque Hunt. Insanity! The names these Hunts come up with.

So I've decided to move to a Hunt-less neighborhood. I think I found one on the other side of town, abutting the Enis family estate.