The Bear Monologue

“Jed, you seeing this?” Asked George, as if I hadn’t already locked eyes with the beast.

“Keep quiet George, you’ll scare it off.” Snapped Chuck. George obeys, and they both look to me, but I refuse to acknowledge them, fearing any movement on my part will frighten the deer.

“Well, what’d we do?” Whispers George, though not nearly as quiet as I wish he’d be.

“Kill it, what else?” growls Chuck.

“Yeah, but who’s gonna do it?” George bugged, ever excited at the prospect of food. We’ve hit hard times on our expedition. Good game has been scarce for the past week or so, and we’ve had to resort to eating the gelatinous portable soup they packed for us in case of famine. It’s food, so I won’t complain, but George nearly wretches every time he

I make a sharp left turn towards the river to evade the beast. Unfortunately, only the grizzly follows me. Both George and Chuck turned right. I call out to them, but am only met with the insatiable growls of the bear.

Determined not to die today, I charge onward towards the rushing water. If anything, this should buy me time.

I muster all my courage and with a valiant leap plunge into the frigid water. I turn around, and I’m face to face with the grizzly on the bank. A thunderous, heart-stopping roar reverberates through my body.

I thrash backwards, trying to distance myself from the beast. I’m about ready to accept my fate when I take in the sharp popping of a gunshot.

One, three, seven shots it takes until the bear is dead. Triumphantly, Chuck and George march toward me, drenched and freezing.

“I’ve never been happier to see you two!” I call.

“As you should be!” George answers

I laugh, “You think we should tell Lewis and Clark that there’s bears around?”

“Sure, once you finish your swim,” Chuck jokes.

The two then help me out of the water. On the way back to camp, George ponders, “Hey, do you reckon bear meat is any good to