The Pakistani Spectator

Do you have any idea what a ‘whim’ is? If not the following tale of sadness and woe will pretty Well leave you without any doubt as to the identity of a whim.

Nick and frank, two idiotic buddies of mine to whom I promised I would never tell this story were camping one fine spring day way up in the Keweenaw Peninsula of Northern Michigan. It was mid-summer and the wildlife was in fine fettle. That is to say that the Mosquito’s and no-see-ums were so thick they at times blotted out the sun.

Nick saw the bear cub first and he called, “Aww Frank, come here quick and see the cute little bear cub.”

 

The two men stood at the base of the small cedar and stared up at the object of their attention in fascination while they talked in low tones.

 

“How much do you suppose the little guy weighs?” Frank asked.

“Oh, if I was to guess I would say twenty or thirty pounds, no more than that.” Nick offered.

 

Now this is where things began to go a tad wrong for here is where the ‘whim’ comes in.

 

Whims by the way come in varying colors but predominately black and blue with a nice coagulated blood red thrown into the mix.

 

The two outdoors-men knew enough to never monkey around with a bear cub in the wild.

 

They were aware of the well known fact that mama bears don’t take kindly to humans molesting their offspring, yes, they knew it but they decided to disregard the facts and go ahead and climb aboard their ‘whim’.

 

Later neither of them could remember who it was that came up with the idea of catching the “cute little bear cub”; in fact they each denied it with great fervor.

 

Someone said, “Man, that little tree would be real easy to climb!”

 

Someone else said, “Yeah, and we have that piece of rope back at the tent!”

Now at this point I am going to let imagination tell the rest of the story.

 

Jake runs to the tent and fetches rope.

 

Frank begins to climb the tree with the rope to catch the “cute little bear cub” at which time he will lower the “cute little bear cub” to Nick and Nick will grab the “cute little bear cub” and hold it until Frank reaches the ground.

 

This part of the plan was wonderful but they had no clue what they were going to do with the “cute little bear cub” once they had captured it.

 

Oh well, something would come to mind, it always does with whims.

 

That is one thing you should remember about ‘whims’, very rarely are they accompanied with plans and when they are the plans are usually used for t.p.

 

Frank climbed the tree.

He approached the “cute little bear cub” and called down to Nick that the “cute little bear cub” looked a lot bigger close up!

 

Frank reached out to place the rope around the cute little bear cub’s neck.

 

What is that old saying about, “the best laid plans of mice, men and idiots trying to catch, “cute little bear cubs” oft-times go awry”?

 

When that rope touched the “cute little bear cub,” for some strange reason known only to itself it suddenly went berserk.

 

Berserk bear cubs have the remarkable ability to transform themselves into meat grinder/wood chippers at a moments notice, with no warning.

 

Yep, “cute little bear cub.”

 

The first clue that all was not well was the terrible yowling and screaming and frantic movement up in the top of the tree.

 

Concerned, Nick called to his buddy, “Be careful Frank, we don’t want to hurt the little guy!”

 

It took only a moment for Nick to figure out that not all of that screaming and shouting was coming from the, “cute little bear cub.” Unless cute little bear cubs can shout things like, “Ouch! Oh no, get away from me! Oh Lord, he’s killing me!

 

Nick, obviously the sensitive sort called up into the shaking cedar, “Come on Frank, leave the little guy alone, you might hurt him. If he falls from up there he might get hurt.”

 

Frank, in full agreement was calmly, ‘gleeping, moaning and screaming’ but the “cute little bear cub” wanted to play.

 

If by chance you ever find yourself in such a predicament as our misbegotten friend Frank there is really only one thing that you can do. Let go and fall!

 

As falls go it was not a spectacular fall, a mere twenty feet and due to the fact that frank hit every branch on the tree at least twice, which usually would be an impossibility, his fall was somewhat broken along with three or four ribs and his pinkie finger on his right hand.

 

Due to the fact that one branch smacked him alongside the head and knocked him unconscious he didn’t realize it when he hit the ground.

 

As he woke Frank was mumbling something about the “cute little bear cub” trying to eat him.

 

Now we know that a “cute little bear cub” of a mere twenty or thirty pounds can’t possibly eat a full grown man so credit must be given to a previously unknown growth gene because the “cute little bear cub” grew into a two hundred pound black bear by the time Frank was able to tell the story the first time and since then it has reached the unbelievable sizes of three, four and five hundred ponds with no sign of slowing its growth rate any time soon.

And in case you are wondering, they didn’t try to catch the “cute little bear cub” again.

You have a nice day now ya hear. Chaz

Last 5 posts by Charles Towne

• I can't find My Keys? - July 3rd, 2008
• MAD MAUDE AND HER TOADSTOOL CASSAROLE - June 25th, 2008
• The Unpredictability of Danger - June 10th, 2008
• The Bear and the Panther - May 31st, 2008
• A Journey of a Thousands Mile : A Parable - May 26th, 2008

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