"Come on, Ed," said Ed's best friend, Joe, "Load up your gun! Don't you want to try to be the one to bag the first baby?"
"Don't worry about me," said Ed.
Suddenly, the savage baby battlecry was heard: "WAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
The hunt was on! Everyone fired at the child crawling across the field. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Four dozen bullets riddled the infant's flesh. It was full of lead and blackened gun powder. It was ruined: there wouldn't be an ounce of good baby powder left in that one, and all the tasty blood had already seeped from its veins into the soil. Oh, well, thought the hunters. There'd be plenty more.
"Ed," Joe inquired, "Why don't you load up your gun? Don't you want to be the one to make the next kill?"
Just at that moment, the air was filled with the ruthless, cunning laugh of another baby. "Agaahgagoogee!" Then, from the East, the baby was scuffling onto the field. It was taking its very first steps! Fifty hunters aimed and fired. The baby's precious hide was tattered. Another one was ruined.
And so on it went. Each baby being dispatched so completely that no useful product remained. Ed just sat there watching the sport.
After a while, the shooting stopped. Everyone had run out of bullets! Everyone, that is, except Ed. Ed now had the rest of the day to hunt all the babies he liked.
Everyone was in awe of Ed's wisdom. A baby scurried across the field. Ed took careful aim and fired. It was a direct hit! The baby writhed in pain. One more shot took her out.
Ed deeply inhaled the musky, manly scent of his wild prey. Suddenly, a baby lept from behind a tree. It was charging! Ed quickly reloaded his gun. He aimed and fired, piercing the toddler's shoulder. The baby kept charging, now even more maniacally. Ed aimed for the heart, but--his gun jammed! Ed's heart pounded manly hormones through his veins as his timid companions stood frozen in fear. Just as the baby was almost at Ed's feet, Ed deftly kicked its forehead, cleanly snapping the boy's neck.
His companions cheered as Ed strapped the baby to his bumper, a "baby on board" sign clenched in its rigor-mortis-frozen fingers.
At the steering wheel, A sense of peace descended upon Ed. Once again a victor of the most dangerous game, he drove home knowing that he had bested the most dangerous and most cunning of all species.