“I was spending the weekend with Jayson. He had recently suffered a career ending injury, and cashed in his $87 million insurance policy from Lloyds of London. He lived in a 31,000 square foot mansion on 300 acres. It was like a compound. Anyway, one night we are hanging out, and he had this 150 pound rottweiler named Duke. Anyway, Jayson was talking about how tough Duke was, and I bet him $100 that I could drag Duke out the front door by his back legs. The front door was about 15-20 feet away.
Anyway, so he agreed to the bet, and the game was on. Suddenly, Jayson started shouting attack commands to Duke, trying to get him to maul me. I started baby talking Duke, ‘Come on big fella, how are you Duke?’, etc. So Duke lays down on his side for me to scratch his belly, and so I scratch his belly and drag him out the door. I said to Jayson ‘OK now pay up’. Jayson says ‘OK I’ll be right back’ and goes back inside the house and upstairs.
After a minute or two, Jayson comes back down with a double barrel shotgun. Without a word, he pumps a round into Duke’s side and then blows his head off with the next shot. He then reloads, points the shotgun at my head from a foot away and says ‘Schintz, get this ******* dog cleaned up and out of here, or you’re next.’ I said ‘Please Jayson, just don’t kill me.’
His brother and I ended up picking up Duke and taking him to a spot on the property and burying him. Jayson had gone to bed by the time we got back to the house. The next morning I woke up, walked into the kitchen, and there was Jayson wearing a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, making pancakes with a big smile on his face, acting like nothing had happened.”