Help! A Bear Is Eating Me! by Mykle Hansen Read Free Book Online

the eye. The former eye.
    Big Brown’s backing off … he’s turning … he’s walking away. Mister Bear charges at him, screeching and snapping, and Big Brown scurries into the forest like a frightened Papillon. Ladies and Gentlemen … it’s Mister Bear in the first round!
    Incredible. I’m tingly with extreme-sports-feel. Wow. Did you see my bear kick that other bear’s ass? That other bear that was twice my bear’s size? My bear is awesome. Mister Bear, you’re a madman! You’re a monster! You saved my snacks! You’re my hero! Mister Bear, do you want a beer? Let me buy you a beer. Man, you have got to be the meanest, baddest and most omnivorous bear in all of Alaska! You are king, Ichiban, number one! You wear the belt, you pose with the swimsuit models. Woo-hoo!
    Hey, I said that! Hey, I’m saying this! I can say! Mister Bear you have not only vanquished our common foe, you have also cured my laryngitis. Is there no limit to your awesome power? Are you sure you don’t want a Bud? Here, I’ll open it for you. Interested? No? Okay, I’ll have one. Do you want a Slim Jim? No? Here, this one isn’t spicy, it’s Country Turkey and Cheese. Not interested? Well, is there anything, anything at all I can get you?
    Oh … you want that?
    Yes, of course, I forgot … you’re eating me.
    Well all right, go ahead. I already wrote off everything south of the axle. Let’s just — OUCH! Let’s … let’s make a deal: I’m all yours from the knees down, but please, after that, at least try the Slim Jims. After that you’ve got to stop because the rest of me is not sitting under a car, and I suspect the pressure of the axle on my legs is acting like a really expensive luxury tourniquet, I think that’s why I haven’t yet bled to death. But if you eat me on this end I’ll bleed like crazy and not only will that be impossible to get out of my brand new suede hunting attire, but also I’ll die. And I’ll be dead and we won’t have this special relationship of ours any more. You’ll be all alone out here with no one to eat or talk to. And I’ll start to go bad and develop botulism, and then you’ll die from eating me after I’ve been left out too long.
    We’re not so different, you and I. We both dominate. We both kick ass. We both have excellent taste. You are eating me, for instance, and I would eat you, too. I will eat you. Don’t forget, I’m still going to win. But you are a worthy opponent, Mister Bear. I salute you. In a different time and a different place I’m sure we would have been great friends.



6
    Oh science, oh technology, oh medicine and pharmacology, how much do I love you? Let me count … OxySufnix, Percoset, Anctil, Smarmex: you take the pain away and bring me cool fluffy clouds and ultimate smoothness. Performil, Septihone, Winnerol: you remove my doubts and confusion and give me clarity. Sombutol, Codeine, Abnap: you tuck me in and turn out my lights. Ritalin, Rapidol, Viagra, Crystal Methedrine: you put my pedal to the metal. There’s no feeling I ever wanted to feel that the alchemists of modern pharmacy don’t already have a pill for. Drugs, I’m so glad you’re here with me. I couldn’t do this without you. It was very smart of me to stock up on you in Vancouver, where you are available so cheaply and without a prescription.
    Of course I have a prescription. I’m not some twitchy pill-popper. I have several good doctors telling me to take this stuff. That’s how I know they’re good doctors. Edna dragged me one time to see this bad doctor, a real quack, who tried to prescribe me some analysis, some deep probing of my past, some couch time. I told this doctor, Hey Doctor, do you know who I am? I’m Marv Pushkin, and I’m stunningly important! Do I look like I have time to lie there in the greasy indentation left on your fake leather couch by the fat asses of a hundred depressive clients of yours, telling you private details from my fabulous life? You wish! If you