HELP! A Bear Is Eating Me! - Mykle Hansen [43]
They have really excellent nuts and berries here, I should mention. Of course you’d expect bears to import only the finest nuts and berries. Last Sunday I had Brazil nuts, lightly roasted and salted, and a bowl of strawberries with whipped cream. The whipped cream didn’t do much for me but man, the berries were exquisite. I’ve started agitating for trout, but Doc Panda doesn’t like it. Doc Panda wants all the good food for himself.
Thump thump thump? Speak of the devil! Over the hidden intercom comes a furry imitation of a caring human voice: “Hello Marvin. May I come in?”
Forward and back. Forward and back. I’m really not in the mood, but you have to humor them. The electromagnetic door lock hums and in waltzes my Case Coordination Panda with his clipboard and his turtleneck and his little round bear glasses, trotting up on his hind legs like a pro. From a distance he might look human, but his snout sticks out too far. Look, he’s brought a chair, and he sits on it backwards, folding his arms over the back and facing me in this let’s-have-a-friendly-but-highly-confrontational-little-chat way of his. Stupid panda can’t even sit on a chair right.
Hello doc-tor. How goes the revolution?
“I’m very well, thank you Marvin for asking. And how are you today?”
Forward and back.
“I spoke with your friend Ms. Pennington today. You remember Marcia, don’t you? She says she hopes you’re feeling better … and she wants you to know that her nose is healing nicely.”
Forward. Back. Doc Panda pretends to jot a note on his clipboard, pretends to adjust his glasses. Hah. Doc Panda watched too many doctor movies in bear terrorist training camp. What a ham.
“You know, your friends care about you a great deal, Marvin. Every day they call to ask how you’re feeling and what they can do to help. Your wife and your friend Marcia are both very concerned.”
I convincingly pretend to appreciate the fake concern of my former dead bear-eaten so-called friends.
“Marvin, why did you bite Marcia?”
Back.
“Marvin, please use your words. Don’t growl.”
How do I explain this? The bear that ate Marcia walked through the reinforced padded doorway yesterday, wearing the clothes I bought for Marcia and the perfume I bought for Marcia. And in the pumps I bought Marcia this bear’s ass was looking fine. I don’t know, I was confused. So I made small talk, I laid on the charm. It had been forever since I got some. I asked her to sit on my lap, what was I thinking? She started touching me and sniffing me and then the bear that ate Marcia tried to touch Walter, and I saw its bear teeth and the hunger in its bear eyes and I came to my senses just in time to apply Bear Survival Tip Number Three.
But I can’t tell that to a panda. He can’t know that I know.
“You’re a human being, Marvin. Not a bear. You know that, don’t you?”
Forward. Freeze.
“Marvin, any time you feel like talking, I’ll be here.” Doc Panda pats my shoulder condescendingly, then whips it away before my teeth can close on his paw. He takes a deep breath, attempts a toothless grin, and the door hums and clicks. Out he waltzes with his little chair. The door clicks shut with the snap of a loud iron mechanism, a piece of technology that bears did not invent and do not deserve. Then through my little food slot is slid a tray full of supper. But I’m really not hungry.
The sun’s going down in my little window. The bears on the highway are backed up thick and slow. The leaves are falling from the trees, and out there on the big lawn a pair of koala bears push them into little piles with buzzing gasoline leaf blowers. Stupid bears ate all the Mexicans and now they have to tend their own lawns. They just can’t delegate. Stupid bears.
They must have been planning this for years. I’m sure they had secret bases in the woods where they drilled on walking, English, driving, firearms, dressing and undressing, facial expressions … and then they swept down from Alaska and Northern Canada in a wave of