Victoria, August 12, 2023
Sitting in the bar The Bent Mast, just steps from the oceanfront, we’d managed to order our second round of beer when Arthur walked into the dimly lit room. His shift had just ended, but he’d already changed out of his black police uniform and into blue jeans and a light-gray, chunky-knit sweater. Now, it would’ve been hard for anyone to spot the law enforcement officer in Arthur. In casual, loose-fitting clothes and with his ever-present pipe in his mouth, he looked more like a successful artist, a popular writer, or maybe even an architect with a bohemian flair.
“I’m about to tell you guys an absolutely crazy story!” Arthur said in an intriguing tone, ordering a dark beer before diving into his latest tale from police practice.
Here’s Arthur’s story, just as I heard it.
Today at 2 p.m., we got yet another call. A woman phoned the station, completely hysterical, begging us to save her from a “A woman phoned the station, completely hysterical, begging us to save her from a “man-eating bear.” We hit the gas immediately, racing to the address the “victim” provided.
The sturdy wooden house of this supposed “predator’s victim” stood in a forested area north of town. Attached to the house was a spacious balcony, accessible from the yard by a wooden staircase that led directly into the cedar grove. As you know, we have quite a few houses like that around here, and encounters with forest critters are not exactly rare for the residents. Usually, it’s deer, raccoons, or even elk that wander into their yards, but occasionally, cougars and bears make appearances too, though they generally steer clear of people. Of course, bears would likely show up more often if homeowners fed them, but naturally, nobody does that around here. We all know that feeding a bear will only teach it to see humans as a source of food—and possibly even food itself if given the chance, with no hint of gratitude. That’s just how bears are...
So, we hadn’t even pulled into the driveway when the “victim” flung open the front door and rushed toward us. She was a well-built, fair-haired woman of Anglo-Saxon appearance, around thirty-five or forty years old, dressed in a form-fitting, clearly designer athletic outfit—and barefoot. She wasn’t without a certain attractiveness, but any appeal was completely overshadowed by an unpleasant odor emanating from her. It was a mix of stale sweat, feminine odors, and something else—a scent reminiscent of homeless vagrants. The well-kept house and large property sharply contrasted with the smell coming from its owner, leading me to suspect she might be one of those “greens,” the types who try to avoid showering or washing clothes to conserve freshwater, despite the fact that there’s no shortage of it around here.
The woman immediately invited us inside, and what I saw and sensed there only confirmed my initial suspicion.
The house was furnished expensively, though in a minimalist style. Hardwood floors were covered with Persian rugs, abstract and esoteric original paintings adorned the whitewashed walls, and there was a high-end computer, a large-screen TV, and an elaborate sound system. All of this pointed to the homeowner’s wealth. Perhaps I should say "homeowners' " but it was obvious she lived alone. There were no signs that children had ever been in this residence, nor was there any hint of a man’s presence. Most likely, she was one of those who avoid having children on principle, believing that “the planet needs a break” and wanting to contribute to a reduction in its population. These types are becoming more common, but curiously only in the sparsely populated regions of North America and the already declining Western Europe. In overpopulated areas like Africa or, say, India, no one plans on “giving the planet a break,” but our ultra-greens prefer not to acknowledge this, as such knowledge would shatter the carefully constructed illusions of their unrealistic world...
However, the most distinctive feature of the house was not its decor but its smell! There was a persistent, though faint, odor of feces and urine. Some might not be aware, but among our more extreme “greens,” there are quite a few who not only rarely bathe but also avoid regularly flushing the toilet—for the same “water conservation” reasons. They do flush, of course, but usually only once every few days. Over two or three days, their toilets fill up with human waste, lending the home or apartment a particular “aroma.” This luxurious house was yet another example of such a “green” dwelling.
We didn’t have much time to analyze the lifestyle of the “victim” in depth, though. Stammering and sniffling, she recounted how, about an hour and a half ago, she had unrolled her yoga mat on the balcony and practiced a few yoga poses and asanas. After that, she’d settled into meditation and then decided to go inside to pour herself something to drink in the kitchen.
After quenching her thirst, the poor woman headed back to the balcony, and… imagine her shock when, through the half-open glass doors, she saw a massive black bear taking over the balcony and devouring her yoga mat. Terrified, she let out a piercing scream—so loud and shrill, in fact, that the full-grown bear got spooked, bolted down the stairs, and vanished into the forest. All that remained were the shredded remnants of her meditation mat.
We gave her a sedative and offered to take her to the hospital, but, trembling all over, she refused.
What words of comfort could we offer? Of course, we reminded her that black bears, unlike grizzlies, rarely attack people. But we had to add that her mat probably carried a scent that… particularly caught the bear's attention and triggered its animalistic appetite. Naturally, this was a reference to the scent emanating from the mat’s owner, though we didn’t mention that to her directly.
I mustered the courage to advise the lady to regularly wash or at least rinse her yoga mats to eliminate any scents that might attract forest predators. After all, if the bear didn’t suffer from indigestion after eating the mat, it might return in search of other sources of that enticing aroma—and, heaven forbid, it could find our lady and… continue the interrupted feast. Naturally, I omitted the part about a "continued feast," as the poor woman was already so frightened that she informed us she wouldn’t be staying in her house that night and would instead go sleep at a hotel.
Well, to each their own... Though it would probably be wiser for her to reconsider her hygiene habits.
. . .
Arthur's story certainly entertained us, and—let's not kid ourselves—it even prompted cynical laughter and a few crude comments. However, I found myself thinking that there was actually little to laugh about. It’s sad and even repugnant to see how well-off and even reasonably educated people can descend into absurdity. Still, that’s a separate topic I had no desire to delve into that evening, so I chose to enjoy my beer and the company of friends at the The Bent Mast.
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