Ben Merriman

The Bear

In the Adirondacks one must never leave garbage nearby, in case it should attract a bear. On a certain occasion somebody left garbage nearby, and a bear was attracted. It was right on our porch, eating a chicken carcass and a pile of aluminum foil.

In person, bears are not as tall as one expects, but very bulky. Whether or not they are frightening is a matter of taste, and therefore not subject to dispute. I, for example, hid under my bed, whereas my mother stood right next to the bear and banged a spoon against a pot.

Common knowledge says that one sort of bear flees from loud noise, while the other sort becomes agitated and dangerous. But this bear must have been of a third sort, because it continued to eat its chicken, and regarded my mother like a violinist who comes up to the table and disturbs one’s dinner and who, if treated with sufficient coldness, will go away in a moment or two.

Flash Fiction by Ben Merriman

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