Free Help! A Bear Is Eating Me! by Mykle Hansen Page A

the one who knows. I am the one who thinks. You are the one who shuts up. That is the thing you get to do, and also you get to pull me out from under this car and take me home — pronto , as in yesterday! The spare tire is under the floor in the cargo hatch. Don’t climb in the car, it’s sitting on me . Just lift it out gently … would you get going for fuck’s sake, before Mister Bear gets back. Come on, you guys, show me some hustle here. I’m still in danger, you are too in case you care. We’re parked in the Bear Zone!”
    Edna and Frank exchange a look, and just like that, they dismiss themselves. “Hey! Where are you going! I’m still talking here! Hell lo! Edna! Baumer! Front and center! Right now!”
    Incredible. The fuckers. The fuckers are ignoring me! They’re just plain not doing what I tell them to when I tell them to do it! I must be hallucinating. Of all the inappropriate times to mess with the Beast … Frank Baumer, I will fire you and then rehire you so I can fire you again, over and over until you beg me to leave you fired. Edna, you just bought yourself a quarter-pounder of trouble and a side of french-fried hurt. Where’s Frink when I need him? That pussy would never dare walk away when I’m talking. That pussy understands teamwork.
    But these pussies … Edna and Baumer are having some sort of private whispering session a few yards away. All I can see is feet, and all I can hear is little breathy esses and tees, like little kids talking in class. They are standing curiously close together, those two. Is Baumer unable to smell Edna’s fetid breath and noxious french purfume? Is Edna not concerned that Baumer might accidentally shoot her in the foot with that flimsy sidearm he’s dangling in his hand? What are they talking about? What could be more important right now than getting me rescued?
    Oh come on. No way. I didn’t just see that. Edna stepping up on her tip-toes and leaning into Baumer? Tell me, did she wipe some kind of turd-stain off his nose? Tell me they didn’t just kiss. Jesus. What the hell is going on here? Frankie?
    And look, now here comes innocent little thrice-fired Baumer to talk to me again. Like … like it’s a sunny day and unicorns are licking our butts.
    “Frank … I’m actually kind of dying down here? What’s the hold-up?”
    “Yeah, you’re stuck pretty good there, Marv. We’re gunna have to go get some help.”
    “Help? Frank, for Chrissake, don’t get help; be help. Jack up the car and I won’t be stuck. Change the tire and we’re home free! I’ve still got half a tank of gas. We can be in Anchorage by morning and there’s a hospital there, but Frank, there’s just not much time. I’m low on everything here, beer, food, blood, I need to get going. Frank, look at me.”
    Frank Baumer ponders this, but he won’t look at me. “It’s just, it’s … it’s not that easy, Marv. Those legs won’t get you anywhere, and really I don’t think it’s safe to move you. You need hospitals and stuff. That’s the first thing they tell you about the scene of an accident: don’t move people. Edna and I will go for somebody in the morning. You gotta just hang in there, boss.”
    “The morning! What, after breakfast and coffee and yoga? After your beauty sleep? Go now for Christ’s sake. Look at me, Frankie! I’m meat on the hook here! Could you at least pretend to be concerned?”
    “Look! I’m really sorry! We just … we can’t drive out at night, Marv. There’s parts washed out, there’s a lot of off-roading and stuff. In the morning we’ll go. You’ll be okay, you gotta believe me.” And then he reaches under and pats my shoulder like I’m his little Papillon. “Be brave, Marv. Don’t worry, you’re gunna be fine. Just hang in there, tiger.”
    I grab his loathsome, condescending sleeve. “Not fine! Worried! Just jack up this car and I will nurse my own god damn wounds and drive myself the fuck home! This is a Range Rover! It’s