Like to film you tied to a tree, out in the woods. You'd be wearing cami britches and Jungle-boots, and bare-chested. Sweat trickles down your body as you stand, chest out, belly tight. I am 10 yards in front of you, on one knee, M-16 aimed at your belly-button. I train the cross-hairs on your navel and watch your belly as it rises and falls with your rapid breathing. Just under your sternum, I see a rapid, forceful pulsing as your heart pounds against your ribs. My finger presses against the trigger and brace to fire. After I count myself down - 3 2 1 - I pull the trigger. BAM - the rifle fires and over the blast, I hear you cry out and I see your navel destroyed, a trickle of red forms at the center of your belly as you stiffen and slam against the tree behind you.
