Does a Bear S*** in the Woods?

I think bears are so cool…

From a distance.

One of the scariest things I have ever seen on the internet was a story showing (supposedly) the last sight a person had who died right after. It showed an angry (of course it would have to be angry wouldn’t it dumbass?) bear ripping open a tent and the inference is that the bear made a meal of the ill-fated photographer.

Chills.

Not to be insensitive or anything, but the bear did not pack his things and his camera and go camp in this guy’s back yard.

Every time I hear shit like this, I automatically start on the animals’ side.

Unless it ever happened to me.

Then I would definitely be on my side.

Bears are too slow to be the dominant species on Earth, but some of those bigger bears can really haul ass.

And those are some big asses.

In my book I set it up to present a story for emotions starting with each letter of the alphabet (think anger, bashful, criminal, etc).

Each letter has a preface which is basically, well, here is the preface for the letter “C.”

C

          A lot of awesome emotions under “C” and I moved the location to Canada, one of my favorite places to visit. On one particular salmon fishing trip there, my father, sister and I were enjoying a great day of drinking. Not so much on the fishing part of the fishing trip. After a case or so of Labatt’s Blue and a liter of Dr. McGillicuddy’s 100-proof Peach Schnapps, we were ready to start drinking some more. At least that was the plan. This is where the story becomes a little fuzzy.

          I woke up at about 2am (I think) and the first thing I noticed was my eyes were wide open and I could not see anything. Only darkness. Was I blind? I turned my baseball cap around and my sight was miraculously restored. The next thing assaulting my senses was the horrendous smell of shit. As I propped my throbbing head up on one elbow, I reached back to rub my aching spine which was partially resting on a bed of pine cones. As I rubbed, my fingers found the slimy stench beginning on the top of my pants. Oh my God, I crapped myself!

This was not good.

          Pan to me pounding on my sister’s cabin. Her lover actually got up and helped me to the washroom cabin.

          “I’m a senior citizen, I shat myself,” I shouted as she sprayed me off with a hose. After cleaning me off, she threw me a towel and I kept yelling my thanks as she returned to her cabin.

I toweled off, and as I peeled off my soaked but clean clothes, I saw that there was no evidence whatsoever of any excrement inside my pants.

          I have never been so proud to have gotten blind-drunk and fallen asleep in a big pile of bearshit in my entire life.

          This next story is an example of the emotion confusion.

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

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