North Florida is like some wild ass backwood adventure land for me. I’m literally an hour and a half from The Bay, but sweet Baby Jesus, it’s the sticks.
So, today Bad Cheddar and I went to the store because dinner for him isn’t the four different ice creams I have in the freezer, and I’m fairly certain he looked at me funny when I suggested as much. We are in the middle of absolute fucking nowhere, mind you, and as we pull into the grocery store, I say, “oh my God, babe, there’s a dog in the street”.
Y’all. This is not a fucking dog. This is, yep, you guessed it, Mr. I Will Rip Your Face Off, bear.
Oh, no, no sir. I don’t want to talk with you. You can mosey your big ass right the fuck on, thank you very much. I like my face exactly as it is.
Later on, I’m outside smoking and I realize that there is literally nothing out there except me and all these damned dogs somewhere in the distance barking. Y’all, I scared myself so fucking badly, it was no longer smoke time, it was “let’s get that ass right back inside before Mr. Bear gets a whiff” time.
I was telling Bad Cheddar about this alleged near encounter, to which he said, “pretty sure you’d drop a fucking bear if he interrupted you smoking”, and I said yes, but then I have to come in here mad as hell and fight you after I just had to fight a fucking bear, and nobody wants that to be how the night ends, now do they?
Puffin has yet to see this alleged bear, but she has already started fights with swamp rabbits, a donkey, some horses, and the head of a snake. As you can see, she isn’t discriminatory, she hates every fucking thing on the planet. What a Bitchface.
Anyway, I’m going to see what I can’t do about this might be a fucking bear out there in my smoking spot. Clearly, this cannot continue to take place, as I almost pissed my pants when I brushed past a tree branch earlier.
Gonna have to square up with this fucking bear, y’all. Someone better call Sara McLaughlin, get some of that sad ass singing for Mr. Bear happening.
Maybe a good time to stop smoking. 😉