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“Seriously, John,” she grumbled. “We’ll be fine.”
“I’ve watched movies,” I said, recalling a film where a bear was hunting Anthony Hopkins and not wanting that to happen to us next. “And the bear hunts them through the woods. A man-killer or something?”
I felt her laughing. “The Edge?” she questioned, turning to lie flat on her back next to me. “That movie?”
“Yes,” I said, remembering the movie’s name. “That fucker hunted those poor souls. It was unpleasant.”
“John,” she said in a tone my mother would’ve used to calm me down in a crappy situation. “The bear outside our tent is not a grizzly bear.”
“That’s wildly reassuring,” I answered her.
“It’s a black bear native to California. Unless it’s starving to death, it’s not coming into this tent to eat us like in the movie. Now, shut up before it senses your fear and busts in here just to teach you a lesson.”
“That’s the thing,” I said, smiling and finding comfort in her calm demeanor while I was being a huge chicken shit. “My fear is enhanced by the fact that there is basically nothing standing between it and us.”
“That bear isn’t coming in here unless you brought food in here.” She stopped abruptly and shot up, “Please, God, tell me you didn’t bring food or water in this tent.”
“Who’s the chicken shit now?” I teased.
“Did you?”
I stayed quiet. Of course, I didn’t bring anything in here, but I was enjoying that Mickie was finally as scared as I was.
“I will grab your balls and twist them off if you don’t answer me,” she said.
“If that’s what it’s going to take for my balls to get a little action with you, then I’m down, Mick.”
“Very funny,” she relaxed some. “From your smart-ass comment, at least I know you didn’t bring anything that bear would want.”
“And if I did?”
“The bear would be making this tent its next stop to get a drink of water.”
“How are you so fucking relaxed?” I asked, not understanding how the woman could be so calm with some thousand-pound bear outside our tent, looking for a free meal.
“I’m not completely relaxed,” she said. “I just know that we’re fucked either way. We don’t have a bear horn—because that would’ve been a smart purchase for you on this trip.”
“We do,” I immediately answered her.
“Then why are we talking and not using it?”
“Because it’s in the truck,” I said, clenching my teeth.
We both got quiet when we heard a noise that sounded like the bear was walking alongside the tent.
“Oh, God,” she said. “Either this bear is going to finish off your hot dogs and beer and get out of here, or we’re going to listen to this shit all night.”
“You don’t think it will come in here?”
“How should I know? I’m not the fucking bear,” she said, annoyed. “I’m the idiot human in here with the other idiot human who baited the goddamn thing. So, I have no idea what’s on his wildlife mind right now.”
“Fuck,” I said in defeat.
“Fuck is right. Just be quiet. Hopefully, it will just leave, or a ranger will drive by and scare it out of here.”
“What if we yelled?” I questioned. It was becoming clear that when I was scared shitless, I was the jackass who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It would seem that I was a nervous talker. Who knew?
“And risk pissing it off? I’ll pass,” she answered.
