Laidback Jack

How can a bear go on a date with the class hottie if his father won’t get his feet wet?

‘A girl can’t live on honey and nuts alone.’ Precious Rare Bare said after I asked her to the Annual Bears’ Picnic. ‘Fish Corry,’ she said ‘Bring me fish.’

And that’s my problem. Laidback Jack, that’s my dad, refuses to get his feet wet which makes it hard for a bear to catch fish.

Corry, that’s me. It’s short for incorrigible. Some people also call me Shorty, because I’m kinda short for a thirteen year old bear. And I’m not really a mischief maker. It just happens.

Take this morning. I climbed a tall tree by the stream in front of our cave. About half way up a single branch thrust straight out over the water, and half way along hung the most perfect beehive. I was crawling along to get it and yep you guessed it. The branch snapped in two. Luckily for me Grandpa Grizzly was having a drink right underneath and broke my fall. Unluckily for him his raised posterior made a perfect target for a trizzillion angry bees. One moment Grandpa Grizzly was sipping at the creek the next whoosh, off he went like a moon rocket. He landed like a lump of concrete in the middle of the stream right on top of the beavers’ dam. Thump, bang. Thar she blows me hearties, the dam waters broke and all the fish went with it.

‘Fish,’ Precious Rare Bear repeated in my mind. ‘Fish, Corry, no more honey and nuts.’

And now all the fish were swimming happily downstream in a bear free zone. ‘Catch me some fish,’ her voice echoed.

‘Ask your father,’ my mother, Petite Bear, said.

‘I’m too old,’ Grandpa Grizzly grizzled. ‘Pass me that cushion.’

So it all came down to Laidback Jack. Now Dad is a really cool guy and takes everything in his stride, except water. We were sitting outside catching some late autumn rays when a sudden thunderstorm drenched us.

Now’s my chance. ‘Will you teach me to fish Dad? I mean we can’t get any wetter.’

‘No point son,’ Laidback Jack said in his soft. ‘After your episode with Grandpa Grizzly all the fish are swimming happily downstream in a bear free zone. Besides I’ll have to redo my hair.’ He went back into his den and spent the rest of the morning watching the game on TV while Petite Bear dried and combed his fur.

I slumped down by the side of the stream trying to figure a way of getting Laidback Jack to teach me to fish. Then tragedy struck.

‘Oh you are so clever.’ Precious Rare Bear’s voice carried to me from around the bend.

I snuck into some bushes and nearly died. Idol Bear was sitting in the middle of the stream with a large salmon wriggling frantically between his teeth. Idol Bear is one of they kids we all love to hate. You know the drill; perfect looks, blond hair, blue eyes, square shoulders, six pack stomach, rich folks. He also stands head and shoulders above me, but then so does everyone else even Precious Rare Bear. All the girls idolize Idol Bear, so I guess his folks named him right.

‘I’ll just catch some more for the sleepover.’ he said in his deep manicured voice.

Great. If Idol Bear spends a bear sleepover with Precious Rare Bear and her folks she’ll forget all about me by spring.

I needed a plan and fast. I sat back down by the stream. The sound of the water twinkling over the rocky river bed as it rushed past made for good thinking music. A couple of honey eaters buzzed by and hovered mid stream, With beaks touching, tail feathers twirling in the water and wings flapping back and forth they looked like a pair of skaters on ice.

That’s it. The answer hit me like the smell of a rotten egg in a turkey’s nest. Laidback Jack has always fancied himself as a dancer. He and Petite Bear waltz and tango all around our den all winter. I guess that’s why he’s so laid back the rest of the time. They met backstage on ‘So You Think You Can Dance.’ Petite Bear was the hat check chick and she mistook Laidback Jack for a hat rack. Funny how romance goes. Laidback Jack never made it to the big time, or any time at that, but he never stopped believing.

‘Don’t forget the sleepover.’ Idol Bear’s words came back to me as a sudden gust of cold wind told me winter was coming. I had to hurry.

‘Well son,’ Laidback Jack said we sat watching the rest of the game. ‘If you want to dance you need to be fit. No good running out of puff halfway through the routine.’

‘And it wouldn’t hurt for you to lose of few pounds either.’ Petite Bear reminded him.

Laidback Jack was always conscious of the way he looked to the picnickers. It didn’t work well if you looked too well fed while trying to cadge a free lunch off them.

‘Maybe we could start with some swimming.’ I said eager to get to the water bit.

‘A gentle stroll might be better.’ Laidback Jack said as we started out towards the stream.

Dark clouds were gathering on the horizon and the north wind blew stronger. Winter and sleepovers were coming. On the opposite bank a family of three was setting up a picnic table. The father carried a large picnic basket out of their small blue sedan while the mother spread a red and white checked tablecloth over a long picnic table. A girl about my own age sat on one of the benches reading.

Soon the spiced aroma of freshly baked apple and cinnamon pie and honey custard tarts wafted across the water to tease us. Then the sweet sickly smell of butter and maple syrup assaulted our nostrils as the father started cooking flapjacks on a small stone fireplace.

It was too much for Laidback Jack

‘Watch this son,’ Laidback Jack said with a wink as he started to stroll across the stream on the beavers’ newly repaired dam. ‘I’ll show you how to win a free lunch.’ He stood tall on his hind legs and sucked in his stomach. With outstretched arms and teeth fully bared in what he must have thought was a cheesy grin he started to sashay towards the picnic party.

The result was immediate. For a brief slow motion moment the family stared, eyes wide in horror before fleeing down the road screaming for the ranger.

‘Now what did they do that for?’ Laidback Jack asked with a touch of hurt in his voice. ‘I was only trying to be friendly. Ah well, waste not want not.’ he bent down and picked up the picnic basket.

‘We’re in trouble now.’ I pointed down the road towards three lone mounted rangers that were galloping towards us.

In a flash Laidback Jack took off in the other direction, bounding along on all fours with the picnic basket clenched firmly beneath his teeth. ‘Forget the flapjacks son, but bring the maple syrup.’ He called over his shoulder.

I just took off after him. He kept looking over his shoulders and I could tell he was really worried. The last time he had been caught scaring apple pies off the tourists the Head Ranger threatened to send him to the North Pole. And that has far too much ice for a bear that doesn’t like getting his feet wet.

Laidback Jack was too concerned with what was coming behind to see what was in front. It was no contest. The small red convertible, with the top down, and large brown grizzly bear with the picnic basket collided in the middle of the road. The car spun into the air before landing on Laidback Jack as lay sprawled face down on the bitumen, the picnic basket still clenched firmly between his teeth.

‘We’ve got him now.’ The Head Ranger called. ‘North Pole here he comes.’

Laidback Jack sprang into action. Lifting himself on all fours he shook the car off and ran. I followed. The rangers kept after us as we tried to lose them in the forest. Bit it was no good. They kept getting closer as we weaved through large fir trees and scrambled over pine cones. My legs started to ache and my lungs felt like fire but still the rangers kept coming.

Suddenly we were out of the forest and back at the picnic table by the stream. Laidback Jack stopped at the waters edge, gulping in air. He looked over his shoulder at the galloping horses and then back again across the water. I could smell the sweat off the horses’ flanks and hear their jagged breaths. Still Laidback Jack did not move.

‘Come on Dad,’ I said. ‘We have to cross. They can’t touch us on our side.’

‘But my feet will get wet.’

The Rangers spread out and we were cornered. The Head Ranger reached into his saddle pack and pulled out a tranquilizer gun.

‘What’s worse,’ I said. ‘Wet feet or frozen feet. Let’s go.’ The rangers moved in slowly. I stood behind Laidback Jack and placed my small paws on his ample rump.

‘Come on ‘I said giving him a mighty push.

Nothing. Laidback Jack would not budge and the Head Ranger took aim.

‘Well, well,’ He said as a large grin spread across his face.’ It looks like one big bear going for a long sleepover on the North Pole.’

Sleepover! No way. The image of Precious Rare Bear and Idol bear all warm and cozy playing Xbox all winter flashed before my eyes. Not if I could help it.

I concentrated all my energy and being into my arms and shoulders. Sweat poured down my face and dripped off my nose. With a mighty push I bit Laidback Jack on the rump.
‘Yeow.’ He cried out hurtling through the air, across the stream before landing safely on the other side, picnic basket still clenched firmly between his teeth.

I fell into the stream and thrashed around wildly in the cold water, tumbling this way and that. Finally my feet found the bottom and I stood coughing and spluttering, a wriggling prized salmon firmly between my teeth

In his own way Laidback Jack had done it. I knew I could rely on him. He had taught me how to fish.