BEAR 21... The Story of a Man and Her UmbrellaSection 1: The First 6 Days of Terror
Section 2: In One Day Your Whole Life Can Change
Section 3: Dangerous Love
Section 4: The Tragic Demise of Some Loser
Section 5: This Life Already Happened*
Section 6: Prophecy 14
Section 7: The Present That Already Happened Holds Enormous Implications for a Future That Might Not Exist
Section 8: The Yellow Pearl is Upon Us Now, We Must Fight Back
SECTION III: Dangerous Love
Life began taking a plunge towards the darkest pits of illogical despondency beginning May 1st. On May 1st, bizarre things began happening irregularly on an inconsistent basis. It had become obvious that the fallacious world known as the reality in which I had been delegated a key figure was taken over by incompetent talentless writers who were poorly devising a terrible script. Like Katy Perry, these awful writers honestly thought they were creating something worthy of International praise; only these authors were 2nd rate amateur comedians who assumed their cliché filled script and irritating pranks were even mildly amusing.
There was no sufficient evidence as to what had caused the drastic changes that may or may not have been meant to be, to mean something, to have any meaning whatsoever. At first, I suspected that it might be the new apartment… that my life had become cursed upon moving into this place. Prior to moving into this apartment, while still residing in Milwaukee, WI, I had a dream about this building—a rare dream in which I did not die in the dream.
That also coevally occurred when Bowls Department Store hired a new manager. When she was mysteriously assigned a prominent role in the upcoming 1-star film, the plot shifted drastically and maybe she was the cause for the audience walking out of the theater. Those who abruptly exited the theater, however, were fans of the film that I had been writing, not these assholes. Unfortunately, people remained in the theater, enamored with the success presented on the big screen. This movie was intended for her, not me, and I was now somehow playing an intricate role in somebody else’s movie. I am leading the life intended for her and not me. This is yet another means in which Bowls Department Store will be attributed to my death, because it is obvious that I am considered a blemish in this particular script and the writers are attempting to kill off an unpopular character.
It would make more sense for both parties to walk away from this conflict peacefully. I had only arrived in error and do not wish to be here either. Ideally, if they were intelligent, they would simply remove me from the script by temporarily installing elements from the film in which I actually belonged—which would be far more entertaining for all parties involved.
The opening of this particular mishap occurred in the store. Just one day out of the blue, totally unexpected, there was a Tupperware container filled with cookies in the break room. Because Bowls Department Store does not pay enough for me to maintain a healthy eating schedule, and because this was around the same time in which I was mysteriously charged a $35 fee for a 47 cent overdraft that I had immediately covered, I viewed these cookies as lunch and went to town on these mother fuckers. It was one of those days when I was glad that everybody had called in sick because this meant more cookies for me. I don’t know if it was because all I had eaten in the past few days was shitty Ramen soup, but those were some God damn good ass mother fucking cookies that I shall cherish for the rest of my life.
“Who brought these cookies in?” I asked one of the miserable bastards who actually showed up for work that day.
“Who the fuck’s Carrie?”
“Tony! You need to watch your language around here.”
That’s the main thing that I do not like about working at Bowls Department Store… people still think certain words are mother fucking inappropriate and its fucking bullshit that I have to listen to this God damn mother fucking crap all the God damn time. Fuck that shit. This bitch was shitting a brick about mother fucking curse words and said nothing about the fact that I had just demolished a significant portion of the gifted cookies and probably had crumbs all over my face like a savage Bowls Department Store customer who had been raised in a cave by bears; the break room had to have looked like a Level 4 disaster struck (probably unnoticed because the Shoe Department had been hit with a Level 5 again.)
“Carrie is our new manager!”
I felt that I needed to redeem myself for accidentally cursing around this sweet aging country woman.
“Well, these mother fucking cookies are God damn wonderful!” I said this as I removed yet another cookie from the Tupperware container, set it on the table, crushed it into crumbs with the side of my fist, divided the crushed cookie into lines, and then snorted the crushed cookie up my nose with a rolled up dollar bill.
That day at work, I spent the entire day visualizing what Carrie actually looked like. The cookies were excellent and that was already a step in the right direction. As all quality, classy employees do, I visualized her to look exactly my dream woman… and that I would be sexually abused and forced to sit underneath her desk all day.
It is increasingly common for people to engage in sexual fantasies involving their bosses. Receiving a promotion to manager immediately thwarts a person into the elite status of an employee’s most recurrent subject of sexual fantasy. Being as I am already considered the extreme example of the word “submissive,” having a desirable manager is the primary issue of importance when obtaining a new job. This criteria is further heightened if she displays abusive characteristics and also possesses a lustful yearning for scrawny little douchebags who she can make fulfill all of her sick and twisted feverish sexual desires without any repercussions whatsoever.*
*No repercussions = One Restriction. I can keep quiet and never tell anybody that I had been brutally raped by a female manager regardless of what cruel and inhumane tactics are employed in order to ensure that she may have her way with me. However, I will press charges for the scandalous violation if she forces me to listen to any songs featured on the Bowls Department Store playlist at any time during the excursion. Even if she commits no other violation whatsoever, if I am subjected to hear shitty Bowls Department Store music outside of the store, then I will spread rumors and lie to the police with accusations that she had committed numerous Aggravated felonies; if I hear of anything being reported stolen, I will report her to the police claiming she was the suspect who committed the Grand Theft. The last person who played Katy Perry in my presence is currently serving an 18 year sentence for Aggravated Smuggling of a Uranium Enriched Substance from a country in which she had never even visited.
However, I didn’t wish to jinx anything due to my current vexation of sexual fantasies never coming true. Therefore, I pictured her in the worst image possible. That she would enter the store with tubes draping from her nose while chewing Kodiak dip and spitting black shit all over the floor… bearing resemblance to many of the customers. I questioned what was actually in those cookies.
Regardless of her appearance, I was pleased to know that she was at least a nice person due to the fact that she had displayed such a generous act of kindness by bringing in delicious cookies that she obviously took immense effort into preparing in order to warm over her new associates. That takes a special kind of person to do something that nice and pleasant. You think my ass has ever brought in cookies anywhere? Fuck no! That’s why I am commonly considered a stupid prick by most people.
Later that evening, the woman who I had accidentally used profanity towards cornered me in the break room again. She informed that there were guidelines as to what language was appropriate and I should discontinue using any language that may be deemed in offensive in the work place—I could get into a lot of trouble for shit like that. Furthermore, there was a new manager, and she might not be willing to put up with objectionable language being spoken in the store, and that I needed to consider that.
After I offered my most sincere reconciliation, with a warm pleasant smile, I removed yet another cookie from the container, placed it on a spoon from the break room silverware drawer, lit my lighter underneath the spoon until the chocolate chips were melted, poured the purified chocolate chip cookie into a hypodermic needle, tied a band around my arm, tapped my arm a couple times, and injected the purified chocolate cookie into my vein.
"Shooting up cookies is even better than eating them!"
On that note, I am going to bake cookies soon and bring them into whatever new job I finally land. That is now my primary goal.
Finally, I saw some random white woman conversing with the other managers. Upon starting my shift, they called me over and informed me that several people had once again called in sick; rather than work in one department, I would be assigned to work in 153 other areas, all at once, with no increase in pay whatsoever. Technically, I think that if I have to perform multiple duties as a result of covering areas in which a different associate had opted to not show up for work, that I should receive not only my pay, but be compensated the pay the person faking an illness would have received as well.
I had no idea who the woman was, and there was no introduction. In fact, she did not say one single word to me. Therefore, I simply suspected that she was some random visitor from a nearby village.
As days passed, people had asked what I thought of the new manager. “Beats the fuck out me,” I kindly answered, “I’ve never seen her monkey ass.”
Finally, one day I asked the woman in the break room, "who the fuck's that white bitch I see walking around here all the time?" Apparently, that strange visitor from the nearby village was Carrie, but the lady in the break room acted like she didn't even fucking hear me.
It seemed as if everybody else knew her except me. I had seen her around, but never spoke to her; she never said a single word to me either. How the fuck do you all know her and I don’t? You mother fuckers don’t ever even show up for work. Imagine the pain I felt—the suffering—the gloomy loneliness—the thoughts of suicide.
They described her… matching to an exact tee the woman from the nearby village who I merely assumed was some ordinary associate on the verge of developing a lingering illness that requires missing work at least once a week. They stated that she had been walking around the store, introducing herself to all of the employees, and supposedly, she seemed nice.
For reasons I’ll never fully understand, she never introduced herself to me nor even spoke to me. I found this to be a bit puzzling, to say the least, and was curious as to why I was singled out—an omen that I was about to be fired. In fact, I had walked past her numerous times and she abruptly turned her head away from me in order to avoid making any contact. This is even more baffling considering the fact that I am plagued with some sort of disorder in which random people feel that they absolutely have to say something to me... even if it is completely irrelevant to anything happening in my life.
As far as looks were concerned, she did bear more resemblance to dream visualization over the nightmare. I mean, she wasn't exactly my dream woman, but I could possibly endure the most explicit of sexual abuse for at least 3 months before finally seeking a new job.
The first time she ever talked to me was over the radio in which most associates are expected to wear. A mysterious voice came over and said, “Tony, you can go to lunch now if you want.”
I had no idea who it was and simply responded that I couldn’t go to lunch until 6:14. There was a prolonged silence and then the mysterious voice inquired as to why it had to be 6:14. Then, I kindly explained the unjust $35 overdraft fee that I had been charged due to a 47 cent overdraft, that I finally disputed the fee, and they reimbursed the charges… but it would not take effect until the end of the business day. So, blame Wells Fargo for any inconvenience.
“Who the fuck is this person?” I asked a co-worker, Natalie, somebody that I was permitted to be myself around her presence.
“That’s Carrie… the manager.”
More days passed with the same treatment as before… we simply never spoke to each other. I had no idea why she took such great effort to never speak to me, but assumed she merely thought I was a total loser for over-drafting my bank account. Also, it took 6 days to resolve this issue at the bank, and I was a bit choleric towards the entire world. It did not matter to me though; I do not like talking to people anyway. The only time she did speak to me was to nastily tell me that I wasn't allowed to leave an RF with the cashier.
Q:) What’s an RF?
A:) Who the fuck cares!
Bowls Department Store has an array of shit that is simply dubbed with various exclusively Bowls Department Store terminology… such as Z-Rails, E3’s, gray carts, and a belief that Lindsey Ray has any talent whatsoever.
Then came an obsession with making rules and leaving ridiculously worded notes of condescending oppression in the break room. These rules had no reason and many of them were downright ludicrous. She decided that associates were no longer allowed to have their shifts covered… in a place that already suffered a terrible attendance problem. To make matters even worse, she began this letter with the words “Moving forward, …”
Therefore, I did not follow any of the rules. And those who did, suffered as a result. Although, the “moving forward” note was finally taken down and disregarded (based on that rule, it would have been much more beneficial to simply not show up for work without even calling) new rules kept multiplying until finally every single person at Bowls Department Store despised her.
How do I know everybody disliked her? Because I disliked her… and if I don’t like somebody, nobody does… it’s just the way it is. I have my ways of finding this out… all the way from grumbles such as (realizing she is the closing manager) “great, and we also have to deal with this bitch tonight” (uttered by the same woman who opposed using profanity at work). People have come to me openly complaining about her.
My moment happened one day in which I started work at 5:00. For whatever reason, she still refused to speak to me. At 5:24, she asked Natalie if she had seen me… in a manner in which she assumed that I was either late or possibly had not shown up for work (despite the fact that I had never missed a day.) Also, I was wearing a radio and could hear everything. Then, she angrily told Natalie, “well you need to tell Tony that if he hasn’t gone on break yet, that he needs to go on break right now.”
This was such a ridiculous remark that I had no choice but to laugh about it. Starting at 5:00, break would generally come around 7:30. Somebody else even came over the radio and declared, “Tony just got here.”
Finally, I spoke and told her that going on break at that moment was not a desirable option for me. She declared that it was my only option, that now I wasn't getting a break, and that I was being relocated from the shoe department to the register (elegantly referred to as “POS 2” at Bowls Department Store, yet another term in which outsider spectators frequently ask, “what the fuck does that mean?”) because all the cashiers had called in sick. I never took a break, never asked, for I refused to take a break that night.
Somewhere along the lines, she legitimately thought that I had clocked in at 5:00 and had already completed my 15 minute break before 5:24… that I came in, clocked in, and immediately sat my big ass at the table for the first 15 minutes of my shift.
Somewhere along the lines, she legitimately thought that I had clocked in at 5:00 and had already completed my 15 minute break before 5:24… that I came in, clocked in, and immediately sat my big ass at the table for the first 15 minutes of my shift.
While conducting my cashier duties like a bartender, I was joking and having fun with a customer at the register (as I always do) and she attempted to join in the conversation and ruin it… I gave her the look like she was not welcome to be part of our group. The customer stated that she had forgotten her coupon, and I jokingly told the customer that we tacked on additional fees for forgetting the coupon rather than honoring it. She replied that if I did such a thing, then she was going to drag me out into the parking lot and "wear my little ass out." I responded by telling her that if she did such a thing, that we also apply an additional $35 Wearing Out the Cashier fee. Carrie interjected and declared that we did not have any of these fees. At first, the customer immediately took my side on this issue, and nastily told Carrie that we were just joking and having fun. However, I suspect that she considered dragging me out into the parking lot knowing that there was no such thing as a $35 "Wearing Out the Cashier" fee.
Those cookies seemed like a distant memory. In fact, I suspected that so many had missed work then because she had poisoned them… and that I was immune to the poison because I was malnourished during the point of consumption thanks to Bowls Department Store shitty pay scale; my body had simply digested the poison as a new and improved form of Vitamin B12 and therefore my immune system now ranked in the top caliber of the universe… AKA, the answer to the other frequently asked dilemma, “So that’s what’s wrong with him.”
I was on the verge of jacking off to Carrie in order to get rid of her once and for all. However, I refrained from pulling the trigger because I was still clinging to the pretension that hooking up with her would someday become a reality. But, after the lunch debacle, she no longer had any appeal to me and her rating dropped to a 0. Therefore, I was planning on quitting Bowls Department Store because I knew that I would never survive Carrie as the manager.
Then came the aforementioned Carrie Incident… The night of 06/13/13, I fell asleep on my floor dreaming that I was actually lying in her bed with her arm around me.
That was that night. After that, I never thought about any of that shit again.
Until, 6/17/2013, four whole lousy God damn days.
I had to work as a cashier on this day, which I generally do not like anyway. On that day, there were some mother fuckers in the store from Corporate. Corporate people all act the exact same and I hate all of them. They look the exact same too, even though they come in 3 sizes… the fat one, the not-so-fat one, and the woman. Somewhere in the back, the not-so-fat one was lurking, while the fat one was doing some sort of work near the register in which I was working.
These mother fuckers were under severe boycott and I was hoping to engage in some sort of confrontation with them. They were the reason in which I was not being paid the lucrative salary that I deserved… and why this shitty ass fucking Taylor Swift song was playing again. This one store does over $25,000 in sales every single day. The labor cost for those actually working in the store is less than 3%--yet they claim they are unable to afford any hours or pay raises. I know this to be factual because they post the previous day sales figures on the bulletin board in the break room, and list the total allotted hours at the bottom of each day’s schedule.
Unfortunately, this place has a Corporate Office whose department generates ZERO revenue. This instilled pretension that a corporate office serves some value drastically fluctuates the accrued labor costs. Billions of dollars are completely wasted annually to compensate those supposedly “working” in the useless corporate office with salaries that more than doubles what is paid to people such as myself… people who would completely waste these assholes in an intelligence contest.
In other words, we have to take drastic pay cuts in order to allot for their exclusive benefits just to carry out the horrendous ideas in which they have implemented. Outside of the store, no person in advanced society is even moderately impressed with their accomplishments; the lower paid store associates are often regarded as the more advanced species. In recent surveys and from information gathered from past experiments that had been conducted by the world's leading scientists, those participating in the vote normally guessed that the subordinate associate "beneath" the corporate executive held the most benefits in the United States class struggle; the corporate person was frequently guessed to be the employee who was only hired as a tax write-off.
Once again, the fat corporate person spoke to every single person there… except me; he did not even acknowledge my existence. As usual, most of what he said was the typical seminar lecture clichés that every person over the age of 6 months has already heard over 1,000 times. I was proud that somehow I now induced a perverse image that repelled corporate clichés. Even though he obviously wanted nothing to do with my desired confrontation, I carefully monitored his behavioral patterns in order to gather even more evidence to prove my theories about corporate personnel is 100% accurate.
It was actually I who spoke to him, one sole word in which there was no response. The shitty ass song “Under Control” by Ben Lee was playing yet again, and I spotted the fat fucker lip synching the words as if he were thoroughly enjoying the song.
“Seriously???”I stood there staring at him with a look of obvious disapproval. He glanced up at me, stopped with singing, and simply walked away from the scene.
Carrie mysteriously arrived to work, even though she wasn't listed on the schedule, and assisted Lard Ass with rearranging the clothing display in the Junior’s Department next to register in which I was working. At this point, I recalled that I hated her too and was simply hoping that an armed gunman would enter the store to rob the place… in which I would shrewdly NOT cooperate with his demands so that he would shoot me and put me out of my misery. She entered my cashier work station, and I instantly darted out of the way, staying as far away from her as possible in order to avoid any physical contact whatsoever. I was extremely irate that she selected my station to retrieve something out of the drawer rather than all of the other stations that were currently unoccupied—one of which was far more convenient for her. For a split second, I felt grotesquely violated, and wanted nothing more than for her to get the fuck out of my area or else I was going to call somebody to have her removed from the premises.
But as she reached across me to open the drawer, I saw her beautiful painted fingernails on her lovely hands and remembered that I had fallen in love with her and was supposed to be nice to her from here on out at all times.
As she assisted the fat lard ass corporate piece of shit with the alleged renovations of this month’s display, among hearts floating in the air every time I caught a glimpse of Carrie, I was growing irate with corporate fat boy. To begin, the clothes in which was now being shown on the main display were absolutely ugly and would only appeal to fat teenagers with mental disorders. Also, Carrie expressed her disapproval with one aspect and Lard Ass completely ignored her requests.
In fact, I was not the slightest least bit happy with the way Lard Ass was speaking to Carrie. He was condescending towards her and was obviously a chauvinist who did not value Carrie’s empowerment simply because she was a woman. I wanted to disrupt their conversation, take Carrie’s side on every possible issue, and demand that this fat piece of shit get the fuck out of the store or else I was calling the woman in Loss Prevention to remove his stupid ass out of the store, throw him down on the sidewalk, and commence to stomp him senselessly in front of all the customers. After all, it was her store and she was the one there every day… this fat miserable piece of shit was only here ruining things by inexplicably carrying out bad ideas that his impressionable fat ass assumed was in the best interest of the general public. We wanted everything to be done Carrie’s way and this fat fuck was to have no say in anything.
Unfortunately, too many customers kept entering my line and I was never able to induce warfare on his fat ass. Instead, I planned on conducting a sting operation in which I would break into Bowls Department Store late at night, and rearrange everything the way that Carrie wanted them, and this fat piece of shit would never have any knowledge as to what happened.
Somehow, I had to have this shit face out of my life or else I was going to ruined. I wrote a note that read:
"Embody the Cliché... Become the Cliché"Hopefully he would read it and ask what it meant, but it was no use—he couldn't read. As I conjured 683,455 different scenarios, I came up with the best idea in The History of The Universe. An idea so good, I did not even need to jack off thinking about having sex with him. In fact, this idea was so mother fucking ingenious... (Hold that train of thought until... )
I had recently informed somebody that I was being tracked by a capricious bear and was soon going to be slain while walking home from work. However, she disregarded that notion on the grounds that I was too skinny and no bear in its’ right mind would want anything to do with me... "there ain't nothing there to eat!" I wondered how she would have responded if I'd have said that to her in response to a request for oral sex.
But, if I could somehow lure this fat miserable cock sucker to the bear, the bear would not only be fully satisfied, but the bear and I would become good friends as well. After all, I had already been responsible for the deaths of Batman, a hooker, and possibly them God damn kids, getting rid of this fat son-of-a-bitch would certainly ease any guilt I had been feeling.
... the idea was so mother fucking ingenious that it actually unfolded shortly after I conceived it.
Imagine, if you will, being inside a department store, looking up, and seeing a mother fucking wild bear entering through the automatic doors. The overwhelming sense of horror associated with this bizarre incident is completely indescribable for it is totally unexpected and there is no set preparation for how one is supposed to react in this event. All one can do initially is freeze completely without even breathing; then monitor the wild beast and react accordingly because a bear's behavioral pattern in a department store can be wildly unpredictable.
The bear entered, took three steps up the main aisle, then stood on its' hind legs and roared massively. At the sound of the roar, the customers immediately went into a state of panic and ran aimlessly through the store, with some diving underneath the clearance rack. Amidst the chaos, the capricious bear went on a rampage, knocking out merchandise, and destroying complete fixtures in a manner that even a Crack & Barrel shoe customer might even deem impressive. These God damn kids finally had a legitimate reason to scream loudly in the store.
It lurked throughout the store, seeking a prey in which to attack. I remember thinking that it was going to be me, and that I needed to dash to the break room to retrieve my umbrella. However, the humongous bear spotted the corporate Lard Ass and singled him out over the other people in the store. Lard Ass looked deathly afraid the moment he knew the bear had targeted him.
He tried to take cover on a table of folded wife beaters. The bear stared him down and roared, then attempted to climb over the table. Lard Ass grabbed one sole wife beater T-shirt and threw it at the angry 500 pound bear and ran. The fat man was running as fast as he could, periodically turning his head back just to see the pursuing bear gaining on him. His efforts proved hopeless; even his attempts to cut through narrow path sections proved to no avail as the powerful bear obliterated all obstacles in the path and demolished several mannequins.
The chase was a rather short one. Lard Ass was running up the main aisle and was soon subdued. The bear swiped Lard Ass's shoulder with his mighty paw, stood upright, and then leaped onto the fat bastard's back. After the bear dragged him down from behind, he ate Lard Ass right there in Accessories.
People called the authorities to have the bear shot, killed, and removed from the premises… white people with cell phones. The police arrived, entered the store, and shot the half eaten fat ass miserable corporate employee thinking that he was actually bear. Meanwhile, the bear casually exited the store, and I suspected with a briefcase full of cold hard unmarked cash.
Spectators from all over (mostly Wal Mart) had gathered around the scene and somebody asked what happened.
"The corporate manager, like, just totally got eaten by a bear."
The was a brief period of silence, but for some strange reason, everybody on the scene laughed loudly about that remark. They laughed for several hours, dropping to the ground, holding their bellies, coughing, laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. It reminded me of this time when a woman asked some little kid how his Aunt Peggy had been these days, and he responded with, "she got visited by the grim reaper."
Due to the fact that Bowls Department Store shamelessly carries Crack & Barrel shoes, and considering the behavioral patterns of those who purchase them, the damage the bear had done was not considered too incredibly severe. In fact, the store was not in too much worse shape than it normally was… and would be considered in adequate shape for a Wednesday which is Senior Citizen Discount Day.
Numerous friends at Broadway's inquired about the bear incident that had become headline news. People asked if I was harmed, and I told them “not yet.” For the first time, I expressed my fears that my time was nearing and related all of the past instances regarding the bear… beginning with the death of Batman.
“I saw a bear up close and personal once,” spoke a voice from the side. It was the legendary Adam Pitts, who had been listening this entire time and had already known some of the details. The moment he spoke however, the air grew eerily silent and the fire in the nearby lantern perished. He had the full attention of the group who were now suddenly stricken with fear.
“It was back in 2006,” he said with calm, intense, seriousness, “right over... (paused while he looked around, then pointed in the North East direction) there. I was sitting out on the patio with Rothgaurd smoking a bowl. Mind you, the dark side effects of the spirited beverage had cast its spell.
We were on the 2nd story balcony and all of a sudden, this bear emerged from the forest and was prowling around in the courtyard beneath us. It didn’t even notice us and was simply walking around in the yard. Somehow, it ended up directly beneath us… the others were frightened and went inside the house to avoid any danger.
Me, on the other hand, I stuck my hand through the rails and tried to grab the bear. My friends thought I was acting like a drunken fool; many feared that the bear was going to strike and bite off my hand. However, the bear did not even see me… he never even noticed that I was just in reach.
Something must have happened off in the distance, and the bear took off trying to pursue it. I looked up and realized that there was a small dog in the next yard and the bear chased after it. Me in my drunken state, climbed off the balcony—and mind you that I could barely even stand up before that—and I chased after the bear chasing after the small dog.
The entire time that I was chasing after the bear, I had outstretched my arm, trying to grab it. For some strange reason, I was bound and determined to physically touch this bear. I mean,
Catching this bear would have instantly put me into elite territory.
"How many people can actually claim to have physically touched a wild bear?"
Catching this bear would have instantly put me into elite territory.
Somehow, I nearly caught up with the bear. Right as it almost came into reach; a little girl emerged from the house and stopped in the middle of the yard. The bear stopped and the little dog ran behind the little girl, who was wearing a pink dress and clutching a doll.
This bear was massive and could have easily pulverized this small child. However, she simply stood there, seemingly enamored with the bear… totally unafraid as to what it was capable of doing.
I don’t know what powers this little girl possessed, but after a brief stare down in which I was but inches away from grabbing this wild bear, it turned around and ran back the other way. This bear completely ignored me as I was standing right behind it when he decided to turn around and run. It was so afraid of that little girl that it ran right past me without even noticing that I was standing there. And, it dashed away so fast, that I was not able to grab it… I just missed it.
But, that little girl… she just stood there, staring at the bear, watching it run away in fear. I am not sure if she saw me either. Once again, I chased after the bear.
Next thing I knew, I passed out on Rothgaurd’s couch.”
Section III Soundtrack Listing:
1. Big Star
"Dream Lover" 3:35
2. Spanky And Our Gang
"Like to Get to Know You" 3:10
Like to Get to Know You
3. The Strokes
"Barely Legal" 4:37
The Modern Age EP
4. King Khan & The Shrines
"Welfare Bread" 4:08
5. George McCrae
"Rock Your Baby" 3:19
Rock Your Baby
6. Grand Funk Railroad
"Mean Mistreater" 5:03
Closer to Home
7. Killing Joke
What's THIS For...!
8. Faith No More
"The Gentle Art of Making Enemies" 3:29
King For A Day/Fool For A Lifetime
9. Bernard Estardy
"La Gigouille" 4:00
La Formule Du Baron
10. The Final Solution
"Where There's A Will" 4:58
Recorded: 1973 but never released because film was shelved; Released: 2008
12. The Besnard Lakes
The Besnard Lakes Are The Dark Horse
"Another One Bites the Dust" 3:38
"Ballad Of The Grim Reaper" 4:11
15. Optical *8
"Night Fade" 8:27
17. Of Montreal
"The Past Is A Grotesque Animal" 11:54
Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer
18. The Fall
"Bury Pts 1 & 3" 6:39
Your Future Our Clutter
19. The Cynics
"That's How I Feel" 3:17
Get Our Way
20. Earl Brutus
"Don't Die Jim" 4:18
Tonight You Are the Special One
21. Zvuki Mu
22. Bluebottle Kiss
"Goodnight Believer" 4:35
23. King Black Acid
"School Blood" 5:38
Loves a Long Song
25. Psychic Ills
"Drop Out" 5:25
One Track Mind
26. The Waterboys
"The Stolen Child" 6:56
"You Lust" 13:03