The Man Who Killed Everest
Tomás had wanted to kill the last Triceratops, but his friend Lucas beat him to it.
Lucas killed it in Tanzania over the summer, at the Caprona Wildlife Reserve. He had the body discreetly transported back to Brazil. He’d left Tanzanian jurisdiction so quickly that he was no longer subject to the country’s very strict anti-poaching laws. The UN fined him a hefty 3.8 million BRL (about 1 million USD) but his uncle, who worked for Heineken, foot the bill. No one in his family cared. There was nothing stopping him from keeping the body.
Lucas mounted the beast’s head onto the mantle above the fireplace in his summer home in Rio de Janeiro. He then threw a party to show off.
Tomás had wanted to strangle the smug son of a bitch. He was ten minutes early to the party.
Tomás stood by the fireplace, champagne glass in hand, looking up at his friend’s trophy. The Dinosaur’s frilled head, with two long horns above the eyes and a short one above the beaked-snout, stared down at him, mocking him.
The party around him was loud, crazy, with dozens of people, all here to admire his friend Lucas. Lucas himself was on the other side of the room, talking to a group of three young women in tight dresses. They hung on his every word, as he regaled them with the story of his hunt.
