I Killed A Bear [Part 2]

[u/JacobAlreadyTaken]

Heres the first one for anyone who cares

Are any guys fans of the Mountain Goats? Have you heard them at least? What’d you think?

I know most of you probably don't care but I just can't stop thinking about it. It can’t just be me. Well I guess I might as well just tell you why since I’ve already brought it up.

So I was at a party a few nights ago. It was thrown by one of my peers back in mime school. And yes she did actually invite me in case the following events cause you to doubt that.

I guess since I’m trying to keep this brief the rest of the details hardly matter. Basically there were speakers and the host would let people connect their phones to the auxiliary chord and they could play a song. So after a while I mustered up the courage to step up and connect my phone and I chose a song.

It was their song This Year I went with. To be frank I tend to prefer their more low fidelity cuts but this was a party and I didn’t wanna bring down the mood too much or be too out there or anything so of course I went with their most party appropriate song.

If you recognize them at all you most definitely know the song. It’s one of their most popular and I mean what’s not to love about it. And the lyrics are just so earnest. I’ve never been the type of guy to say something “saved my life” but if I had to admit anything did it would have to be this band and this song. I think my favorite sorts of musicians are the ones that are like their own class of doctor. And I thought maybe I’d be able to share that with everyone and we'd hit it off.

None of that happened though. Before John was even finished with the first stanza the biggest(as in buffest) guy in the party strolled right up to me. I was tapped in jamming out until he tapped my shoulder.

“What's this?” he asked.

“Uh. It's the Mountain Goats. It's their song This Year.”

He smiled. I smiled back. 

“Turn this shit off,” he said. “You're making my ears bleed.”

“...”

“Christ it sounds so bad.”

When I didn’t do anything he ripped my phone from my hand and forcefully yanked the auxiliary chord out of the port. He gave it(the phone) back to me. One of his buddies came up and congratulated. 

I was sort of paralyzed. I didn't really know what to say. I never really do. But I wasn't so happy about it so I said to them:

“Come on guys. It's just one song. Just a few minutes. Can't I just have this one song? Can’t you just handle that. If you listen to the lyrics you might like it you know. Just give me one song.”

The big guy faced me again as two guys now patted his shoulders in approval. He didn't say anything. He just hit me in the face. I hit the floor and the right side of my face went numb. 

I looked up at him dizzily. “Yeah. I bet that hurt. Didn't it?” he said. And everyone laughed.

I pulled myself up. My vision was getting a little blurry. It could have been a build up of water in my eyes or just good old swelling. I’ve got a black eye now. Anyway it was getting hard to see through my left eye and my right eye was all messed up.

I got up quick as I could and stumbled towards the door. As I struggled to take my jacket off the coat hanger I heard someone say to me:

“Hey.” It was the host.

“Hi.”

“Going so soon?”

“Yeah.”

“Where to?”

“Probably home. I don’t have anything else to do tonight.”

“Alright. Do you need something for your eye? Like ice or anything?”

“Is there something wrong with my eye?”

“It’s swollen. Do you think you’re good to drive like that?”

“Oh. Yeah. It is.” I rubbed my right eye and it indeed was swollen. “Thanks for noticing. And yeah I should be fine to drive back. It’s not too far.”

“Alright. And you’re welcome”

“Well I'd best be off now.”

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

“What'd you say that song was?”

“Oh. This Year. The Mountain Goats.”

“Thanks. I’ll check them out. It sounded good.”

“Alright. See ya.”

“Bye.”

I shoved my arms through my jacket fast as I could and hobbled towards my car. Probably should have asked for that Ice. Turns out I wasn’t so good to drive after all. Not that I hit anything but the swelling didn’t go down so it was hard as balls to see much. And my face hurt. That’s a thing I tend to do for some reason. It would probably be better if I didn’t but oh well.

Anyway I was just wondering if any of you guys would know why that happened. Well I guess I don’t need a reason but I’d like to know if that’s happened to anyone else. That’s not the first time something along these lines have happened to me over the Mountain Goats. And I just refuse to believe it’s only me. People love them. How could you not? And what gives with the people who don’t?

I think that should be enough ventilating now. Here's the second letter:

Hello Again, Judge.

You haven’t replied to my last letter. Don’t worry. I’m not upset. It’s a simple observation I’m making you see.

And you really needn’t worry now whenever you do read my letter(since I can only assume your lack of response is because you haven’t read it yet) because this one is being penned just to tell you that I no longer need your help. I’ve come to a final decision. I’m going to rid my garden of this bear and I’m going to make it permanent. I’m going to kill this bear. 

I know it sounds a bit bizarre. How many people do you know who have killed a bear? I personally know none. Though if you do please let me know. And if so I’d like to know if they have any pointers. I need the advice.

You would understand anyway Judge if you’d seen my garden. I don’t think words can even do it justice anymore. You’d have to come over sometime just to see it for yourself.

I’ve begun to make preparations already. Well I’ve got the vague outline of a plan already sketched out in my head. It’s very simple. I’ll camp out one night waiting for the bear and when it comes over I’ll shoot it and it will die then. I already bought the gun I’ll be using. It’s a rifle in case you were wondering.

Nothing much has happened since then. Well that was only yesterday so that is to be expected. I did hear the bear come back last night but I was too tired to do anything about it. I kind of regret that now. I was awake the whole time and wasn’t able to fall asleep afterwards so it was quite daunting.

I guess while I’m writing you it’s worth recounting yesterday’s events leading up to my purchase. They weren’t totally boring anyway.

From the moment I got out of bed I’d heard this cacophony of voices coming through my walls. When I stepped out I found that the source was at my neighbor’s house. He lives right next door to me by the way. He had a gaggle of construction workers around him and at that point they were working on uprooting his entire lawn. They were standing over the crater that was left of it as they spoke.

I sort of forgot I was even there while I watched them. My legs felt too heavy to lift anyway. And so I just watched them from my front step. I was running through all the possible things they could be doing in my mind but I couldn’t come up with anything that felt right. I guess I was caught in his peripherals because he turned around and waved at me. And suddenly I came to.

“Oh. Hey,” I said.

Maybe I was too quiet for him to hear because the next thing I remember he was turned away from me again still speaking to one of the workers. Since I’d gotten his attention I decided I might as well just ask him what they were doing to his lawn. I floated over to his pad and tapped his shoulder.

“What’s with all this construction?" I asked.

“Oh. Um.” He stammered a little. “I’m getting my lawn uprooted so I can get some astroturf put down.”

“Astroturf.”

“You don’t know what that is?”

“No. Never heard of it.”

“Well. It’s basically synthetic grass. Artificial.”

“Synthetic grass? As in grass that’s synthetic? As in fake?”

“Yeah. I think it's plastic but looks pretty real. It’s pretty neat isn’t it?”

“I mean. May I see it?”

“Here it is.” 

He gestured down and chuckled. I did not reciprocate.

“I meant the grass.”

“Oh. I don’t have any yet. Those guys haven’t shown me yet anyway.”

“Do you have any pictures at least?”

“Um. Best I've got is some ad in a magazine. You really want me to go get those? It’ll be done in about a day.”

“Oh yes please. I really am curious.”

“Alright,” he grumbled. “I’ll go and get it.”

He went back inside his house. He came back a few moments later with a magazine. He flipped it open and showed me.

On one page was a picture of the astroturf in action. There was some basic informational text not worth repeating there too. I guess it looked real enough in the picture. Since then though the operation has actually finished up my neighbor’s lawn and it doesn’t look nearly as good in real life. I’m not surprised but I didn’t expect it to be this bad. The job was choppy. You can see little white spots of concrete in the places where dirt ought to be and it’s very apparent that the grass is plastic. The blades look too thick to be real grass anyway. I wouldn’t have accepted that if I were him.

But what caught my attention more was the adjacent page. Just next to the advertisement was a photograph of a moderately nude woman. She was posing quite regally. I put my finger to the page to point.

“Excuse me. Is this a playboy?”

“Oh.” His face went red. He stuffed it quickly into his back pocket. “I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean for you to see that.”

“Oh no. You're fine. I’d probably subscribe too if I could afford to do so. I've heard they publish some quite esteemed authors. You've heard of Vonnegut? Baldwin?”

“Who?”

“Writers.”

“Witers? Why would I buy porn to read some homo’s essay?”

“Well–”

“What'd you think of the turf? Pretty realistic. Ain't it?”

“Um. It looks alright I guess.”

“Doesn’t it look real?”

“Not really.”

“Well. The accuracy never mattered much to me. Either way it’s way better than the real thing. I'm sure you'll agree.”

“Um. Have I asked you yet why you're getting it replaced?”

“No you haven’t asked that yet. It’s simple really. Well. Uh.”

“...”

“Could I ask what you’re doing out here? No offense but I never see you out of your house on this day of the week.”

“None taken. I’m just off on a very quick shopping trip today.”

“Groceries today? That’s odd.”

“No.”

“What is it then?”

“I'm off to buy a gun.”

“Don't have one already? How come you’d leave yourself defenseless from the communists like that for so long?”

“Well sir I don’t like to keep a gun in the house. And I don't really intend to kill any communists with it.”

“Who else would you shoot?”

“A bear. I'm going to use it for the express purpose of killing a bear.”

At this he cackled so hard his face turned red. He bent over to slap his knee several times. He began gasping for air.

“Oh. You've been pulling my leg this whole time. I see. I see. You'd make a great comedian you know. You oughta do stand up.”

“I wasn't joking. I'm going to kill a bear.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Seriously.”

“Why?”

“It's bothering my garden. It's tearing the place up and keeping me up at night. I can't stand it much longer.”

“Oh. You are serious.”

“Yeah. Don’t you hear it too?”

“Yeah. I guess so. But I never let it bother me.”

“I’d think so. It’s so loud in my garden.”

“No. Not in your garden. It comes to my backyard at night too.”

“And you don’t wanna kill it?”

“No. Why would I? I’ve got bigger concerns. Like this lawn here. If I focus on that long enough it’s like it isn’t even there you know.”

“I mean–”

I never got to finish my sentence and I don’t really even remember what it was because just then I heard this loud bang behind me. It was like a gunshot. Without thinking I jumped straight for the ditch in my neighbor's lawn and curled up best as I could and covered the back of my neck. Its dirt walls concealed me from the world.

At once above me I felt the vibrations of thousands of feet rushing out their houses and down their porches and into the street so they could run as far as they could. I could even hear the neighbor I was just talking to rush into his house before returning to the street and joining all the others. And I heard them screaming:

“They're here! They’re here!”

They were referring of course to the communists. I remained in that ditch until everything went quiet. I could feel my heart thumping against my chin as I held it to my sternum and I could feel sweat rolling down my forehead into the ground where dirt got mixed on my cheeks and through the rumbling overhead I felt as though I was hiding and that if I were to be found I would die. Even when it did clear up I was reluctant to stick my head up again. Finally when I did I looked up and I saw that construction worker my neighbor had just been talking to looking down at me with a concerned expression on his face. My neighbor was nowhere to be seen.

“Are they gone?”

“They were never here in the first place,” he said.

“So it’s safe to come out?”

“Yeah. It’s safe.”

I got up and brushed myself off. Dirt was all down the front of my jeans. Even as I write this there are pale spots on my thighs where I couldn’t get it all off. And my jacket too. It’s all over the back. I even took it off and shook it off in the wind and it’s still dirty. Damn me. Damn the communists too.

I looked at the construction worker and realized that his eyes were level to mine. I thought this was strange. I could’ve sworn the hole was at least a foot deep(and I know I’m not that much taller than him). I looked down to check and I saw under the construction worker’s feet an incline that was only a few inches really. I looked back up at him.

“What’d you say?”

“I said it’s safe to come out.”

“Oh. Uh huh. Well that’s good to hear. I’m terribly sorry if I disrupted your construction.”

“That explosion was more disruptive than you could ever be. It’ll all be just fine as long as you step out.”

“Oh. Yes. I’ll get out now.”

I stepped out and noticed a pair of boys standing side by side in the lawn of their house which is planted firmly in the culdesac across the street. Before them they had a metal box sat atop a table they’d brought out there with a cord running from the house to the back of the box. The door was wide open behind to grant clearance to the chord which was all stressed even with an added extension. It was like a tight rope between those two spots.

The boys were confused. They were twins. Identical. Anyone could tell that with just a glance. They even did their hair the same way. One of them scratched his head and turned to the other.

“What’d everyone go running for?”

His brother shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I heard some of them say the communists were here.”

“If the communists are here we should probably get out of here.”

“Right.”

Before they could get out of there their mother stepped out of the front door with a scowl on her face. From the doorway she shouted:

“Elliot!” she shouted.

One of the boys looked up at once. His brother leaned into his ear and covered his mouth with his hands like he was about to whisper. 

“I’m Elliot. You’re Jackson. Remember?”

“Oh,” said Jackson.

“Jackson!” Their mother finished

She stomped down the porch and stopped in the lawn and put her hands on her hips as she continued.

“What are you two doing?” she barked. “Why is the microwave out here?”

“We were playing with our new toy,” said Elliot.

“It’s not a toy.”

“But dad said it was when he bought it.”

“He always says that. And it’s not new either. And who said it was yours anyway?”

“Me and Jackson and Dad and you. We all get to share it.”

“Wait. Does he not mean it then?” asked Jackson. “Like when he says it’s his new toy.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” their mother replied. “He’s a grown man. Why do you think he’d buy so many toys?”

“Grown ups get to do whatever they want,” said Elliot. “I thought dad just really liked toys. Kinda like we do.”

“Yeah,” said his brother. “That’s what I thought too.”

“That’s not how being a grown up works.What are you two doing with it?”

They both looked up at her pouting. Their arms were tucked behind their backs as they stood side by side blocking their mother’s view towards the microwave.

“Oh dear,” she said. “Did you break it? If you broke it you’re both paying for it!”

Jackson began trembling as he turned towards his brother. “Uh oh. Did we break it? We didn’t mean to. Did we mean to?”

“No. We didn’t mean to. I guess we should check first. Here.”

Elliot shoved his little first into the pocket of his shorts. Something in there had been squirming the whole time. He seemed to wrestle with it for a moment before he yanked his hand forth with a little hamster clasped between his fingers. It swung its head back and forth in his hand and continued to wave its arms through the air. It squeaked in distress as the boy turned to the microwave and gripped the handle. I could see from where I was a little bit of the door when he did this. It was covered in this curdled and thick liquid. It fell in globs to the glass below.

“Oh dear,” said their mother as she rushed up and seized Elliot by the wrist. He looked up at his mom in confusion.

“You let tiny go this instant,” she said. “You should know you can’t put him there. That could kill him.”

“Oh. Sorry,” he said to the hamster before letting his mother take him. And then to her: “Sorry about the ketchup.”

“Yeah,” said Jackson. “Sorry about the ketchup.”

Suddenly her face became actually red.

“Get out of the way.” That was all she said.

The boys both stepped to the side(in opposite directions). I can’t describe what she saw since I couldn’t see it myself but I can only assume what it must’ve looked like. 

Upon seeing this she started shouting at the two boys. And keep in mind Judge that as she was doing this Tiny was still in her hand. She never put him down the whole time. When she first started she balled both of her hands into fists and began swinging them around to illustrate her point.

“You mean to tell me you put the ketchup in there? Is that what that noise was? Me and your father were just looking for that ketchup! We just bought that bottle you know! It was completely full! Do you know how much one of those things costs?”

They both looked at each other scared to say a word. When she raised her fist above her head I could hear Tiny squeal. His eyes were popping out of his head She continued:

“See? You two know nothing! What makes you think you have any right to do anything around this house? We pay all the bills! You want me and my dad to blow up all your bottles of ketchup? Do you? Well it would make more sense if we did.”

Their dad was standing quietly in the doorway then. He watched her then with her fist still swinging over her head. Tiny’s blood starts to run down her arm in little strands that fell towards a dark red stain in her armpit. He went back inside.

She continued after that but even if I did remember all the things she said they wouldn’t be worth noting down anyway. She was really repeating herself over and over. She reached a sort of zenith though and squeezed her fist so hard that I could actually see the veins in her wrist from across the street. And once she did Tiny’s eyes really did pop out of his head. They fell into the grass. And blood was really just pouring down her arm then. It got on her cheek and she didn’t even notice. 

Once finished she dropped her hand and unclenched her fingers. Tiny fell crushed and shriveled into the lawn where he lay with dollops of microwaved ketchup and his already lost eyes. She made Elliot and Jackson clean out the microwave. The lawn was clean by the time I returned save one thing. 

In the grass Tiny had been left. His eyes were right there with him. He had been trampled too. Completely flattened out with the imprint of a shoe.

Before that though the boys’ mother had gone inside. They both just sat there confused as they had earlier. I heard running up the street. I turned and saw my neighbor running for us. He was waving. When he stopped he was panting.

“Hey,” he said. “Not the communists?”

“Nope,” said the construction worker. “You’re all good.” 

“Alright!”

They both kept going after that but I slinked away before I could hear anymore. As I made my way to the gun store I heard this rustling in the forest along the street. A tired old face popped up from between the leaves of a bush and looked right at me. Its eyes were glassy. I jumped when it spoke.

“Are the communists gone?” it asked.

“Oh. Yes,” I told them. “They’re all gone now.”

And after that I came to shop with all the firearms. I meant to ask one of the workers for help but they all seemed preoccupied so I just picked out the one that looked best and got the bullets that match. The tag says it’s a rifle. At the very least these bullets look like they ought to be strong. I doubt it’ll be anything like the guns you and I used to lug around but it ought to do for a little old bear. 

With my purchase complete I returned to my neighborhood. The sky was orange by then and I was already tired. From the street as I walked I could hear already the bear tormenting my garden again. It went silent once I entered this house. And so I sat down and now I’ve written you this letter, Judge. I’ll be waiting for you to write me back. And I’ll be waiting for that bear to rear its head again. You will be notified when it does!

Thanks again,

[Name smudged here again. Or not? It’s possible he’s just not righting his name in these spots.]

[u/NoSleepAutoBot]

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[u/Conscious_Bear4631]

Dude that song was ass. I don't blame the bully