[ WP ] `` What does n't kill me has made a tactical error . ''

“ I say boy, what ca n't kill me has made quite a tactical error I ’ m afraid, ” The Monocled Man groaned. He stretched out a double-barrel shotgun broken at the center for my arms to carry. I swept the thing across the ground and slung it over a pair of bony shoulders. “ Quite a tactical error indeed. ” He continued. 
 The Monocled Man carried on in mumbled conversation with himself while I repackaged his shotgun. Into the velvet sleeve it went where another boy much like myself might slide it out from it ’ s hiding place to give it the cleaning and maintenance the Monocled Man needed. Although with the way my charge had been shooting I doubt it ’ d make much of a difference. 
 “ Your answer boy? ” The Monocled Man exclaimed. “ I asked you a question you know. ” 
 “ Oh, right… ” I glanced up from the delicate firearm in my hands. “ What was that again?'' 
 “ The hunt my boy! ” The Monocled Man lay a pair of hands on my head and shook playfully. “ Sir Walleye ’ s annual hunt! I wouldn ’ t want any other boy but you there! ” He pulled a pipe from beneath a pocket in a pinstriped vest, tucked a knuckle full of tobacco inside, and struck the mound. “ You absolutely must come!'' 
 “ Right, yes sir, definitely sir. ” I replied. To be quite honest, I was hoping to make it through my time with the Monocled Man without attending any hunts, being careful to avoid Sir Walleye ’ s particularly. Unfortunately to say no to the Monocled Man was against the rules, and I had been a boy raised to follow the rules. 
 “ Splendid! I ’ ll have your things packed and ready by the week ’ s end! It will be absolutely splendid! ” Again his hands landed on my shoulders, almost shaking the gun from my grasp. He strode off the yard and into his manor leaving clouds of blue smoke in his wake. I hurried after with the Monocled Man ’ s gun, careful to avoid the toxic fumes now consuming his grounds. Tobacco was against the rules too. 
 I looked back across my charge ’ s yard to see a field full of unmolested clay pigeons nesting among the weeds. Not a single on had been struck by the Monocled Man ’ s birdshot. 
 Unfortunately for my charge ’ s sake, the same can not be said for the tiger. No, when it came to my Monocled Man, the tiger of Sir Walleye ’ s hunt made no tactical errors at all. No tactical errors indeed. And as it turns out, a tiger can withstand quite a load of bird-shot. 

