If Bears Could Talk

The campsite was quiet, save for the sounds of snoring coming from the three tents that were surrounded by trees and bushes. The fire pit contained ashes and food wrappers, indicating that the party had roasted something for their dinner the previous night. Two bears had made their way into the campsite, hoping to find some leftover food the family had forgotten to store in their automobile. Both were very hungry and hoped the family had carelessly left some food outside.

"What do you think this generous family left out for us to eat this morning?" the first bear asked. His name was Rumble.

"I don't care, as long as they have something," said Grumble, the other bear. "I'm so hungry. Someone ate the whole freakin deer last night." When he said this he turned his furry head to glare at Rumble.

"Dude, seriously. It's not my fault you had to wash out the marshmallow stuck in your fur because you wanted to go eat those kid's smores. If I had left that deer out for you to come back, it would have gone bad. Was I supposed to just leave it there, half eaten?"

"Whatever. Hey I don't see any food on the tables."

"Check that cooler. I'll look around the tables." Both bears lumbered around the campsite, being careful to not make too much noise to wake up the sleeping campers.

"Man, there's no food anywhere!" Grumble said. "Let's go." Grumble started lumbering towards the direction of another campsite. Rumble began to leave, but the fire pit caught his eye. Suddenly, he had an idea.

"Hey, Grumble. I dare you to pee in the campfire," Rumble said.

"What! I'm not doing that. Grow up." Grumble replied.

"No, I dare you! Come on. If you do, I'll let you eat the next deer we find."

"No! Wait, what? The whole deer?"

"Yeah. I'll even help you catch it."

"A whole deer. That sounds really tempting. But you can't bribe me with food. These people haven't done anything to me. If I do something mean to them without any cause, I worsen an already inaccurate stereotype that we are violent, killing machines. I don't want to perpetuate the stereotype."

"Aw man, Larry was totally right." Rumble whined. "You are seriously no fun. All business, never cracking a joke, playing a prank, always about eating and sleeping."

"Larry said that?" Grumble asked.

"Yeah. I didn't believe him at first, but now I see he was right." Grumble thought about this for a moment.

"Just because a couple of stupid bears call me names, I'm not changing my mind about this," he finally replied.

"What could go wrong? Besides, this family didn't leave any food out for us. Now we got to find another campsite.

"But if I pee in their campfire, I'll be wasting time that could be spent finding human food. Forget it." Rumble searched the ground and found a ten-dollar bill.

"Ok, look, here's ten bucks. Now will you do it?" he asked.

"Rumble, we're bears! What am I going to do with human money? Walk into a McDonald's and ask for a Big Mac and hold the tomatoes? They probably won't appreciate that."

"Fine, here's my final offer. If you pee in their campfire, I'll let you know where Larry keeps his hidden stash of honey." At this, Grumble looked up from examining the fire pit.

"He told you where he hides his honey?" Grumble asked.

"No, not really. I kind of followed him one day," replied Rumble. He knew that this last offer had peaked some interest in Grumble. "Nothing is going to happen. And I won't tell anyone you did it. I promise."

Grumble looked at the campfire, then at Rumble, then at the campfire again. Finally, in a low, slow voice, he said, "Ok I'll do it." Rumble smiled and ran to hide behind a tree, giggling all the way. Grumble let out a sigh, then stood up on his hind feet. He couldn't believe what he was doing. It was like seeing his body act on his own, and he was just there to watch the show. But as he carried out the prank, Grumble found himself enjoying it. A feeling that had never penetrated the fur and skull that protected his brain began to trickle in. He forgot the stress of being a bear. He remembered the happiness, the freedom, of being a cub.