I had wondered what to do with a three-day-weekend coming up and no plans of any kind made yet. Work days were longer and hotter now that summer had arrived. Hot days made one want to run off to the lake or the river to cool off and maybe do some fishing.
I was wiping the sweat off my face when I heard the ringing of my cell phone. What now I thought as I was sure it was the wife wondering if I was at work. Darn these phones! Now the wife could call you and ask what you were doing and were you at work?
You could not even lie about being at work with those tracking apps installed on your phone. I had to ask Ron about that he was a lot smarter than I was. Well at least in some things.
I dug the phone out of my pocket and took a deep breath an huffed it out as, I got ready to answer my ol lady. Oh, good it was not the ol lady but only Ron calling.
I wondered what was on his mind that he would call me at work. Work oh yeah, he was working today too. Well duh! He worked upstairs mostly sat at his computer not having to sweat out in the field like us normal workers.
But knowing Ron, he would call us the abby-normal workers funny guy that ndn. He had given me an Indian name one day as he talked to me out in the field. He noticed how much sweat ran down my face so of course he named me “He-who-has-sweat -running-off-his-face” or just “Running Sweat” then he said “I meant white running sweat. Always reminding me of my whiteness. Yet he laughed saying more of a red face when it got sun burned.
That dang smarter-than-alex, ndn.
I answered with “what you wanu’em injin?” He did not mind since, he made fun of himself, and other injins that was his word for Indians.
He answered in his best imitation of Tonto with “hey kimo soppy you-wannum- go-a-camping?” Ohh wow an answer to my quandry about what to do for the weekend solved. Though I could and would have put with his jokes too.
Actually he could at times be funny, but just sometimes. Like his commentary about the me setting up my white man tee-pee or the modern ndn’s wally-mart store bought fake ndn tee-pees. When I told him he had a store bought, tee-pee too his comment was at least mine is red for redskins.
Nope Ron was not a cigar store ndn neither since he did not even like cigars.
We made plans and on Friday after work to meet at the river.
We parked our trucks and set up away from all the other round tee-pees or as Ron said “those igloo shaped ones.” He wondered if there were any Eskimos camping out in this hunnert degree heat. He asked me if thought if they might melt from the heat.
That is Ron just being Ron.
We went down to the river and splashed around a bit like two big whales. One being a big great white and the other a lesser brown one.
We sat around our campsite and had our dinner. I smoked my calming weed as Ron joked about it making me stupid and lazy. What does he know he quit smoking over forty-five years ago.
Ron started telling of his camping experiences in Colorado, Wyoming, Montana the Dakotas both north and south.
All of them being grizz country according to national geographic. Then he said “Killer Grizz” country!
He said “his wife always wanted to see a bear.” The ones in the zoo were enough for him.
When I kidded him about the native Indians hunting bears and wearing necklaces of bearteeth. He said “yea but I’m a civilized ndn and I do not need necklaces.” Neither do I need to get my body ripped apart by a “Killer Grizz!”
He resumed telling me about their trip.
They saw a little bear playing on the side of the hill and stopped to watch it the second day.
paw prints on one of their hikes. “Hiking without a Grizz Killer gun is scary in itself” he said.
The second sighting happened as they drove back to their campsite. seeing one mom grizz with her cubs about three to four hundred yards away. Plenty close enough for him. I kidded him about being a brave ndn.
He said “brave yes but not stupid.”
On the third day they came upon one as it came up the road towards them. He made no fuss with it as it sauntered in the middle of the road. He told me bear had the right of way and he was not about to argue the point with it.
His little PT cruiser would be like a plastic toy in the Grizzs claws!
I gulped down another shot of Jim Beam and finished my joint relaxing and a getting more bleary, eyed. We talked a little more of razor claws ripping flesh and long sharp teeth crunching bones. You know the good stuff about camping out.
It was late and the fire had died down we were both sleepy by now and decide to pack it in.
Ron said “don’t have any nightmares of a Killer Grizz” chomping on your neck” and he laughed.
Real funny ndn that Ron!
I unzipped my tent and crawled onto my side of the sleeping pad. The ol lady was already asleep and snoring away. Normally it would be hard to sleep but the whiskey and the joint made had done its’ work.
As I zipped the tent up, I remembered how she came to be with us.
The call from Ron had given me an excuse to get away from the ol lady. Only this time she had insisted on going along with me and Ron. I gave up arguing and said “well ok” rather huffily.
I knew Ron at least would not mind he coming along. And besides he never had to put with her questions.
Yep, them women asked all sorts of dumb questions. Like what should I wear?
Well duh!
“Like clothes” I said you’re going camping, at the river, not some fancy dan hotel stuff or restaurant I told her. At least she was an early to bed person at eight pm she was out like the proverbial light.
Mumbling to myself about stupid bear stories I drifted off into la-la land. Thinking of tomorrow and my favorite sport of fishing. Well truthfully the second one the first being watching women in bikinis. That was why I camped out along the river bank whenever I could.
Sighing and sliding ever deeper into the blackness of deep sleep.
Darkness then came sounds of birds, and rippling water as the early morning fog rolled away. I me, Trace, stood at the ready for any sign of Bass no Perch for this doggone, genuine American fisherman.
I had my guaranteed, fully endorsed, Jimmy Houston Bass catching lure on the best Wallyworld Zebco rod and reel at the ready!
Ready for Bass the fish of fishes for me. A splash and I just knew that sound of meant it could only be Bass! Adrenaline surged into my right arm as I whipped the rod and the line shot out towards the splash!
I cursed slightly as I realized I had broken the cardinal rule of Bass fishing! I had forgot to kiss or spit on the lure. Dang it, I thought!
Too late as soon as the lure hit the water and wallah not Wall-eye I got a hit.
Intent on reeling it in I shoved the sound of a loud grunt from my mind.
The Bass splashed up trying to throw the lure out. I let out a satisfied grunt as I struggled with the Bass.
I heard a loud splash and a much louder grunt as a big brown form hit the water!
Shock hit me hard as my hand stopped in mid pull of reeling in the Bass. I No longer pictured a big record setting Bass, but the real form of a humongous “Killer Grizz!”
It was splashing through the water straight towards me!
It was either “fight or flight” as the stories of bears and razor-sharp claws, and teeth came to mind. Here now was the reality of the joke of out running the Killer Grizz! As I had told Ron many times before “all I have to do is out run you.” Ron would just smile and say “and all I have to do is to trip you.”
Well Ron was not here, but I was!
Turning and swallowing a big lump I turned to run while the bitter taste of Skoal hit my stomach. Legs pumping on their own I ran faster than the wind. Why this thought while running for my life came from I’ll never know?
A thought of that dang Ron saying “you run like a girl.” Him being a cross country star an all at least that was what he said.
Gravel crunched as I raced away from the river towards the trees and our campsite. I huffed and puffed as legs moved of their own accord as my arms pumped furiously along with my heart!
I could see everything in front of me as my eyes watered up and started hurting. I made it to the tree line and crashed into and through the limbs. With my heart and lungs ready to burst and limbs scratching my face and ripping my shirt I ran on.
There came louder grunts and crashing right behind me as the “Killer Grizz” got closer!
I saw the open area of our campsite and my truck! It was a beautiful sight of rusted wheel wells, semi bald tires, faded paint and safety!
I never made it as I tripped over an old dead tree limb!
As I slammed into the rotting pile of dead leaves the thought of that dang Ron saying “all I have to do is to trip you” came to mind again.
I was done for now! Me Trace a white man or as Ron said “a yonag”
I shut my eyes as a roar filled my ears! It grunted and its’ roar ringing in my ears, drool dripping off its razor-sharp teeth bared to bite! A paw wrapped around my chest from behind me and started shaking and pulling me towards him or her! I screamed as a claw dug into my chest ripping my heart out!
A final whimper of ron and I cried.
As the “Killer Grizz” shook me and hollered in my ear!
I heard my name Trace, Trace!
I had told Ron I did not believe in God but was this him? Was he calling my name as I faced death at the claws of the “Killer Grizz?”
I heard my name again and again as the bear rocked me back and forth in its massive paws!
My eyes and mind snapped open to the final roar of this nightmare of the “Killer Grizz!”
I heard my name again the voice closer than ever and an urgency in it!
Trace wake up! Why are you screaming? Are you having a nightmare? My mind started to focus what oh! I awoke in my shirt soaked with sweat! Awareness coming groggily of where I was. I was in my tent with the ol lady. And the reality hitting me of what a nightmare so, so, real. The growl of the killer Grizz had been so real!
And then knowing why and how! Darn it, it, had been her snoring I was hearing “Killer Grizz my eye!
I swallowed a grateful breath of air.
And made myself a vow of…..
….. of not listening to anymore stories by that dang Ron.
“Killer Grizz” indeed!
some are friendly though….
like this one..
