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Not bears that are fucking, but fucking bears.
Don't ask me why I am all of a sudden interested in bear attacks, because I've no idea, I think it's only just really dawning on me how easily they can rip the shit out of a person. I remember going camping in the mountains miles from anywhere in Northern California when I was 19, being told to bury shit and not leave food about etc, and thought yeah yeah, they only eat pic-a-nic baskets and ride invisible motorbikes, I'll punch them on the nose and they'll run away. Walking round a lake alone one morning, trying to cut off my friends who were mountain biking through the forest (no pushbike for me, I stayed at the camp drinking, yay!) I saw pawprints and thought, "hmmmm, maybe this is not a Boo-boo size bear, more like a Bungle gone Berserk" so armed myself with a sturdy piece of timber. Luckily I didn't see any bears, they'd have eaten me for elevenses, and picked their teeth with my Staff of Power (or "stick" as it might more accurately be called).
I buried my poo nice and deep after that too, though at the time I was more concerned some rabid bow hunter would see my pink arse peeping out from under a bush and fire some carbon tipped death arrow into me. (Or his blood filled love arrow, equally as bad news)
So come on Yanks, tell me your bear stories, some of you must have been interfered with or done some interfering, right? Anyone used that bear spray, perhaps on a bear or their mates for a hoot? Mr Lawson the Snake Molester, you fucked with any bears in your time? (I bet he has, he's definitely the type to go forward when the rest of sane society is saying "Turn round, leave it, it'll fucking kill you if you mess with it, you've been warned.....")
Oh, and sorry to disappoint any call centre bitches from 12 miles outside Nottingham, by "bears" I mean animals of the Ursidae family, not whatever disgusting deviance you and your Daddy Bear have stolen the term for.
Don't ask me why I am all of a sudden interested in bear attacks, because I've no idea, I think it's only just really dawning on me how easily they can rip the shit out of a person. I remember going camping in the mountains miles from anywhere in Northern California when I was 19, being told to bury shit and not leave food about etc, and thought yeah yeah, they only eat pic-a-nic baskets and ride invisible motorbikes, I'll punch them on the nose and they'll run away. Walking round a lake alone one morning, trying to cut off my friends who were mountain biking through the forest (no pushbike for me, I stayed at the camp drinking, yay!) I saw pawprints and thought, "hmmmm, maybe this is not a Boo-boo size bear, more like a Bungle gone Berserk" so armed myself with a sturdy piece of timber. Luckily I didn't see any bears, they'd have eaten me for elevenses, and picked their teeth with my Staff of Power (or "stick" as it might more accurately be called).
I buried my poo nice and deep after that too, though at the time I was more concerned some rabid bow hunter would see my pink arse peeping out from under a bush and fire some carbon tipped death arrow into me. (Or his blood filled love arrow, equally as bad news)
So come on Yanks, tell me your bear stories, some of you must have been interfered with or done some interfering, right? Anyone used that bear spray, perhaps on a bear or their mates for a hoot? Mr Lawson the Snake Molester, you fucked with any bears in your time? (I bet he has, he's definitely the type to go forward when the rest of sane society is saying "Turn round, leave it, it'll fucking kill you if you mess with it, you've been warned.....")
Oh, and sorry to disappoint any call centre bitches from 12 miles outside Nottingham, by "bears" I mean animals of the Ursidae family, not whatever disgusting deviance you and your Daddy Bear have stolen the term for.
They'd come in the carports and we'd see bear prints all over the car.
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