« It Is Hard Being Yabu | Main | Run Fred Run »
April 14, 2007
Bear With Me
I was camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains with a friend of mine, and our women. We pitched our tents beside a stream full of rainbow trout, and we took our share. Life, and dinner, was good. A Park Ranger stopped in on us early the second night, and he ate well…he was a good guy…but, he was the Law, and he now knew who we were.
The next morning, about an hour after sunrise, I wandered off to take care of some business. The rest of my tribe was preparing a breakfast of coffee, bacon, fresh trout, longnecks, and hoecakes. You could smell it for miles. So could the Bear.
Everyone knew I always kept a large caliber revolver in my pack. Yes, it was in my pack and not with me…stupid on my part…that will never happen again.
As I came out of the woods, there was a fairly large Black Bear on site. I guess he was hungry.
He saw me. I did a quick scan of our site for my friends…not there…I looked for my pack…not there...not that I could’ve gotten to it. In a split second I’m thinking, “I might be fucked”. The bear turned in my direction, but didn’t charge…he moved several yards closer, and the hair on his back was raised, but he didn’t charge…he was staring me down. My nuts were tight. Real tight.
About five seconds later…seemed like hours…the bear started after me, and I heard five shots…boom…boom…boom…boom…boom. The bear was down, and if I hadn’t just done my business…I would’ve done it in my pants. The next thing I know, my friend in running toward me, with my gun, and he puts number six into the back of the bear’s skull…point blank. Dead bear…hell, he was already dead…I think the first five got him…who knows? My friend is reloading my gun…the girls are flipping out…I’m in fucking shock…
So, I thank my friend for (possibly) saving my life with my own gun, and then start thinking. I know someone heard that…but it is early…we’ve got to do something …fast. The Park Ranger knows who we are. Damn.
Our cars were about a mile away, fortunately all downhill. I said, we’ve got to take the bear with us, or we could be in deeper shit. We were already in deep shit. If you find a bear with six .357 hollow points in it…well…you know.
We broke camp…in a hurry. We rolled the dead bear onto a makeshift dragger (tent and two poles), and drug that fucker back to our car. Actually, it was an RV. We loaded its dead ass into the back, and broke for cover. Remember, the girls loved this. It took all four of us to hoist this dead bear into the RV, and all four of us to conceal the body. Everyone was doing the Watusi, if you know what I mean.
My buddy is driving, and as we’re coming down the mountain…we get pulled over for some taillight shit. Must have been in the stars. Everyone in the RV was tight…real tight. I mean we had a dead bear in the back. We gladly took the ticket. The cop never even considered searching in the back, which is amazing because we were all nervous as hell. I’ll never know.
We finally get to Charlottesville, and pull into our bar. With some help from the grill man, the manager, and a couple of other friends…we put that fucking dead bear into the dumpster out back.
Never heard a thing about anything.
Anyway, I gave the gun that my buddy most probably saved my life with to him.
Wouldn’t you?
I have since replaced it.
Posted by Yabu at April 14, 2007 09:12 PM | The Past
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://badbadjuju.com/mt/mt-tb.cgi/814
Holy Bear-shits Batman!
Posted by: Braden at April 16, 2007 10:34 AM
