Staring out the window of the car, I see an animal scurrying from tree to tree. It's obscured by the shadows. Looks like a deer. I see more ahead, hiding and watching. They're standing on their hind legs, in hunched poses. Then I get a closer look at one of them. It's mangled and bloodied. Half the skin has been carved away from its face. Split torso. Exposed ribs. A walking carcass, cast aside by some poacher. Resurrected and pissed off.
Oh shit. He's got a gun.
The first shot cracks from the rifle and bounces off the bulletproof windshield. The mutilated hunters begin to come out in full force, each taking a shot at the car. Their rifles are useless. Francis hums cheerfully to himself as bullets harmlessly ricochet left and right. He doesn't speed up. He doesn't swerve. His only real reaction to the situation is to switch the song from Mozart to Grieg's In the Hall of the Mountain King. I presume it was for dramatic effect. I have to admit, it was a nice touch.
Seems like we're not in too much danger, all things considered. It's going to take a lot more than an angry herd of gun-crazy venison to put down the platinum cruiser.
But not a hell of a lot more.
A chain whips out in front of us from behind a tree. On the end of the chain is a bear trap. It clamps down on one of the front tires in a spring-loaded death grip. Holding the other end of the chain is...
Oh, f**k me. A BEAR?! Seriously?
Welcome to the Forest of Retribution. Yeah, I get it already. Call off the f**king bears. I can't take anymore ironic vengeance today. I don't know if Mother Nature had a hand in this, but if she did she's being a real c*nt about it. Sure, animal rights is a great idea in theory, but passing out a stockpile of loaded firearms to oppressed woodland creatures? That's just a bad idea. Now don't get me wrong--if this were happening to anyone else but me, I'd be laughing my ass off right now. But I ain't laughing.
The bear walks right in front of our car. We hit him (or her, I guess...not gonna dig through its crotch fur to make a genital scan) like a safety test crash into a wall. Good news is the airbags work.
The bear is wailing on the hood of the car like a bi-polar ex-girlfriend in a drunken menstrual hysteria. Only without all the tears and screaming. And maybe a bit less terrifying. Hell, we might even stand a better chance of reasoning with it.
"You there! What do you think you're doing?" Francis, stupidly enough, actually is going to attempt to reason with it.
***
copyright Mike Lamb
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