You're killing me here. Not literally, of course. That would be bad, and it's my hope that this letter will serve as a mediatatory step between where we are right now - which is a really unhealthy, angry, one-sided relationship - and one of us getting killed (you.)
You see, Bear, here's the thing. This started out OK. To be honest, it was kind of cool having a bear hanging around a little bit. The kids haven't seen you yet, and I was hoping that might happen somehow in a safe, manageable way where no one felt used or endangered or inappropriately spectated like some kind of zoo critter. And that time you went up the trail about an hour after Scanlon went down the trail and we got it all on camera - hilarious. Well-played. Your comedic timing, I felt, was spot on that time, and I applauded your style.
|back when you were funny.|
|(Seriously though, thanks for not eating Scanlon.)|
OK, let me get into it here, and please be sure to read this to the end so we're on the same page moving forward.
1) I can no longer tolerate you ignoring me screaming at you while you are eating from my trashcan. Let me be clear - that's not to say you can't eat the trash. It's fine if you want to pick through it now and then, and obviously your ice cream addiction is something you don't really have a handle on yet. I get that. I relate to that. I see how you push aside the leftover vegetables that my kids won't eat either in order to tear apart the ice cream container and lick every inch of it dry. I've DONE that. So let's be straight, it's OK from time to time. But when I step out not onto the porch at 4 AM in my underwear and I just had a vasectomy 3 days ago and I'm pretty sore, and I yell for you to beat it, do NOT, ever again, under any circumstances, give me your fuck-you-I'm-a-bear face and continue to eat the trash. I will not be ignored.
2) When I go back inside, get my shotgun loaded with bird shot to scare you off, storm back outside angrily, and shoot said shotgun in order to scare you off, I need you to at least ACT scared. Run off. Hustle for once in your life. A slow walk with a fuck-you look over your shoulder again will not be tolerated. It's a SHOTGUN. I need you to at least act like you're somewhat put off and repelled by my white-trash-shotgun-shooting-in-my-underwear rage. Do not simply walk to the edge of the yard and wait for me to go back inside so you can resume eating trash. I'm watching you, you slippery fuck. Also, if you could remind me that my 500 gallon propane tank is right there and I should be more careful with my shotgun warning shots so I don't blow up the entire zip code, that would be sweet.
3) You need to be more gentle with the trash can. I know this is difficult for you because you don't have opposable thumbs, but you are really destroying it. It's not a live, wild animal that you have to stalk, hunt down, and kill. It's entirely inanimate. It's not going to get away. Take your time, calmly bite through the bungie cord that holds the top on since you destroyed the hinges, and have yourself a nice meal. Light some candles, dude - enjoy the moment - it's fuel for your soul too, you know. If you spike the trash can off the heat pump one more time, I swear to God it's on.
4) No more diapers. Period. End of conversation. Those weren't even diapers that came from my trashcan, so I know you're two-timing me at the very least. Not cool.
5) No more daytime trashcan raids. Look, I know you get antsy out there sleeping all day, and the ice cream is calling or whatever, but you gotta stay put until nightfall at the very least. Preferably between the hours of midnight and 5 AM should be fine. Also, Shannon sometimes goes running at 5AM or some ungodly hour that I don't ever see unless I'm awake and trying to manage the fucking crazy bear that won't stop eating our trash, so if you can finish up early on those days that would be super helpful. In fact, if you can just try to manage your behavior in such a way that my bride doesn't have to lay down a suppressive fire with the shotgun from the front porch while I shovel trash back into the house in the middle of the night, that would be a good step towards her not shooting you for realsies.
I think that's it. Really, Bear, I don't feel like I'm asking too much. We've got young kids here, lots of people coming out to ride the farm at all kinds of hours, and as a general rule no one wants to party with a bear that wants to party back. Let's all try to get a handle on our tempers here, act like good neighbors, and return this to a healthy relationship that I know it can be.
I believe in us, bear.
Up, up, up.