Skunky and the Bear
The Halloween of my 13th year proved to be one of the most memorable Halloweens I ever celebrated, and it all started with a suggestion from my childhood buddy and partner in mischief, Skunky Wilson.
“Hey, after we’re done with tricker-treatin’ let’s mosey over to the circus and check out the action there,” Skunky said.
The one-tent circus that my buddy mentioned was brought to our little township every Halloween by the city fathers of Booger Holler. Its purpose was to provide older kids an alternative to vandalizing the town with their Halloween high jinks.
So, after we had our fill of trick-or-treating, Skunky and I headed to the field just outside of town where the circus tent was pitched.
“Hey, look at that!” Skunky excitedly said. He was pointing to a banner over the doorway of the tent and read out loud, “Seventy-five dollars to anyone who can stand toe to toe wrestling Bruno the bear.”
“Are you crazy? I wouldn’t take on a bear for a thousand dollars!” I said in a tone of disbelief.
“But seventy-five bucks is all I need to buy that go-cart I’ve been saving for all year! Do you know how many lawns I’d have to mow to earn that kind of cash? And heck, it’s fall; there aren’t enough days left in the lawn mowing season to earn that much money.”
"But, Skunky, read the whole banner," I said. "You have to wrestle Bruno for five minutes and must be standing when the ends!"
Well, that didn't faze his enthusiasm, and by the look of determination on his face I knew it would be a waste of breath to try talking him out of this one.
We stepped into the tent and as Skunky signed up to wrestle Bruno I looked over to the center of the ring as the bear’s first match got underway. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
"Hey look!"I whispered as I tapped Skunky on the shoulder and pointed to the center of the ring, "it's old man Wedbetter." Wedbetter, the town pharmacist . . . and town drunk, was wrestling the bear.
“Well I’ll be switched, he’s the other contestant. Only two of us were brave enough [personally, I thought it something other than bravery] to wrestle Bruno. I couldn’t make out his chicken-scratch on the sign up sheet, but it is him.”
Watching the two wrestle, we soon realized that the owner of the circus had the presence of mind to de-claw and muzzle the bear. Still, the sight of old Mr. Wedbetter grappling with an adult black bear was unsettling to say the least.
As time ticked away and Wedbetter just kept hanging in there Skunky got a little scared. But finally, at the four minute and thirty second mark of the match, our pharmacist took a hard, sobering (which quite possibly was the first time he’d been sober in years), smack across the head from the bear, sending the old man to the ground, face first into the dirt. Old man Wedbetter shook the cobwebs from his mind, gathered himself, and scampered out of that ring as fast as his wobbly legs could take.
“This will be a cakewalk. If old man Wedbetter can last over four minutes with that bear I should be able to go a measly five,” Skunky announced.
The lady at the registration table (who, incidentally, looked like she’d wrestled and lost to a few bears in her day) stood up from her chair, and in a gruff, hoarse voice hollered, “Next up to wrestle Bruno is Skunky Wilson!”
The crowd cheered. Skunky raised his arms in the air in a celebratory fashion. Then, as he hopped into the ring, a hush fell over the crowd as Bruno come charging toward my friend.
The bear stood on its hind legs to greet my friend and the two locked arms, each one trying to move the other off balance. Obviously, Bruno was a veteran at this.
Next, Bruno leaned on Skunky, almost pushing him to his knees.
“The go-cart, Skunky,” I screamed, encouraging my friend to his feet.
He managed to wiggle free from Bruno and stood up to once again face the bear and the two locked arms. But this time, with legs apart, knees locked, and leaning into the bear to counter his weight, Skunky stood his ground . . . for a short while anyway.
The two swayed this way and that, trying to outmaneuver each other in an effort to gain some leverage. Then, Bruno feinted left. Skunky bought the fake and tried to counter. As he did so, the bear threw his full weight into my friend and slammed him to the ground. Do you understand what I'm saying here? Skunky was outsmarted by a bear!
Once Bruno had my buddy face down in the dirt he was determined not to allow him to easily get back on his feet. He sat down near Skunky, keeping an eye on him. Every time Skunky tried to raise to a knee that ole bear gave him a whack with a powerful paw and flattened him to the ground.
Bruno toyed with Skunky like that until my friend managed to dodge one of those whacks and scrambled to his feet, Bruno nipping at his heels.
The wrestlers locked arms yet again, but this time, when Bruno got Skunky flat on his face, the bear just sat on him, pinning him to the ground. Ten seconds later, the ring master blew her whistle, announcing the end of the match. Skunky had lost.
On our way home I tried to cheer up my friend, “Look at it this way,” I said, “you lasted longer with that ole bear than Wedbetter did.”
“Gee thanks,” Skunky responded, “that’s supposed to make me feel better; to know the town drunk lasted almost as long with that bear as I did?”
“Well, you might say that you bearly lost the match,” I said with a smile.
No response from Skunky.
“Look, go-carts are a luxury not a bear necessity.”
I saw a hint of a smile on his face.
“Well, I’m here if you need to bear your soul.”
Now even I started to chuckle.
“Wuddya say we drown your sorrow with an ice cold rootbear or a raspbeary shake?”
“Ok, ok,” Skunky chortled, “just stop it, will ya? You’re not beary funny you know.”
With that we both laughed hysterically and once again all was right with the world . . . until we got to Skunky’s home and, while looking for a snack, realized the cupboards were bear.
Sorry, I was on a roll and just couldn’t resist.
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