Let me tell you something about where I live. We have a pest problem. Some people’s pests come in the form of rodents, crows, pigeons, etc. Mine comes in the form of bears. Black bears. A fucking gang of them.
Okay, maybe it is just one this year. But I know this black bastard is one of the cubs from the crazy bitch mother we had last year.
Last weekend, this cuddly little fella hit our garbage behind our garage on Sunday night. Annoying. Then, he had the balls to show up again on Monday night, after we had taken the garbage out to the road for pickup.
Based on these behaviors, our ears have been tuned in to any sort of noise that might indicate that he has come back for more of our precious trash.
Last night’s experience included Chad hearing it out by the road, coming back in to get a flashlight, then making me stand in the driveway while he hopped in his truck and took off down the driveway. I thought he was going to just drive around the neighborhood (it’s a circle) and sneak up behind it. 15 minutes later I realized that I was obviously mistaken. He drove to the store for some skittles. But that isn’t the point.
Upon his return, this is the conversation we had:
Me: I feel bad that he dragged our garbage into the neighbor’s yard.
Chad: (picking up garbage) Did you throw away these taco shells?
Me: I honked my horn at him and he ran up around that way
Chad: Yeah right, he is probably sneaking around to flank us right now!
Me: Um… oh.
Chad: I am going to spear this mother fucker!
Check back soon to find out how Chad ultimately decides to remove this bear from our lives. Just now he was muttering about how he is going to get a tranquilizer gun, shoot it, and wait for it to go and pass out in the neighbor’s backyard.
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