This is a masterpiece.
This is a masterpiece.
From the moment I hit the street, the only thing I could hear was Bob Seger. Literally. He had taken his family out to dinner in the way that radio personalities go out in public hoping to be recognized. The only difference was that this was my favorite Chili’s.
In a drunken rage he began shouting lyrics from some of his better known songs, but I swore I heard a Michael McDonald tune sewn somewhere in his intoxicated, yet somehow musically brilliant song medley. His singing was eventually drowned out by his nonsensical rambling, but no one could tell the difference. I began to laugh, but as I did so he started to approach me. I panicked. Quickly I scrambled to find something to do with my hands. I reached first for my phone, but to my horror, my pockets were empty! The possibility of faking a text was out of the picture, and every second he was getting closer. As a last resort, I actually pretended to be listening to an iPod that clearly was not there. The king of late 70’s rock was only feet away now, and my heart raced at a dangerous speed. To my surprise, he actually walked by me without yelling a single obscenity.
So there I was, standing outside at closing time, just watching him walk on past.
I scurried home and told my wife every detail of my “night moves”. She decided to celebrate by heating up some strawberry Pop-Tarts in our dying toaster. We spent the rest of the evening chewing on those disgusting little treats.
The bears demanded that I cry at least four tears before they let me go. For whatever reason, I could not muster up enough emotions to birth some “sad drops”. Sadness isn’t necessarily the first feeling to hit you when you’re on the verge of being mauled by talking bears.
They actually dressed really nice though!
I actually offered to be their pet at first. They weren’t threatening in the least, and I thought it would be a great escape from my impending failure at school. I was golden.
This was going to be hilarious, I mean, how many people have been pets of bears or much less actually BEFRIENDED a TALKING one? None, that’s how many. I checked. But I made tons of promises to them, an unrealistic amount of promises. I said I could stack hot dogs in a large, narrow tower that reached the heavens. That one got them really excited which puzzled me. I was joking.
Bears love hot dogs, believe it or not. Every afternoon we got in my car and drove to Dairy Queen to get some of those horrid weenies. I couldn’t eat after watching each bear demolish a stack of greasy boiled dogs. Also, I hate DQ. But one time as a prank I slipped a wee little dachshund into their mountain of Hot Doggies, and they ripped him to shreds as they explored the miniature frankfurter kingdom.
They were horrified by my twisted sense of humor. I nervously chuckled and pulled the ole “C’mon guys, it ‘twas but a jest!” routine. One started to chuckle under his breath but quickly shut up after another bear elbowed him in the lower back. Man, I really hate DQ.
The biggest one picked me up by the leg and held me upside down as each bear took their turn of punching me to bits. Every so often they would pause to scream in my general direction, “Cry! Cry for that hound!” and then commence to beat the hell out of me.
My God. They have finally released more of the Roxy concert. This is the best news of my entire life.