If any of my superiors at work have stumbled upon my blog, I would just like to say that the following is a complete work of fiction. I'll also add that the next paragraph holds no interest for you and you may skip ahead to paragraph three at this time.
For those of you whose income is not a direct result of delegating tedious tasks to me and eyeing me suspiciously when I burst into laughter because I'm watching "Charlie the Unicorn" on YouTube for the hundredth time instead of pretending to work, please note that the above statement is a lie and this is a factual account of the events that transpired today.
Sometimes, when I would rather dive headfirst into an empty riverbed teeming with hungry piranhas that have somehow evolved to live without water than acknowledge that I am trapped within the confines of my boring grey cubicle for the next eight hours, I desperately seek other sources of amusement. This occasionally includes researching and planning vacations that I may or may not ever actually take. Seduced by the idea of lying across a geyser as it erupts and rockets me into the air repeatedly (because they definitely allow you to engage in such activities), I began planning my trip to Yellowstone.
It didn't take long for me to realize that the regular campground is for the weak and unimpressive. They literally have an ice cream stand set up on the campground. If you only need to venture mere yards from your tent to procure an ice cream sandwich, you have failed as an outdoorsman. Bear Grylls would eat you for a mid-morning snack. Even if he was already full off the berries he extricated from some bear droppings, he would still eat you out of sheer spite.
While the regular campers lounge in the air-conditioned comfort of their RVs, peering out the tiny windows at the place where nature used to be until McDonalds chopped down all the trees and killed all the bunnies to erect a wilderness-inspired restaurant, the real badasses are roughing it in the back country. Of course, I want to count myself amongst the badasses.
Self-proclaimed badass I may be, but experienced camper I am not, so I left it in Google's hands to teach me everything I needed to know before my shift was over (because God knows that I will have lost all interest in this by tomorrow). True to form, Google provided endless knowledge on the subject, but I began to notice an underlying theme. It seems that there is something lurking in the wilderness of Yellowstone...something thirsting for human blood.
No, not Edward Cullen. Put your panties back on.
BEARS.
For most of my life, I have naively thought that bears were rather cute and relatively uninterested in humans, I even permitted their fluffy, plush cousins to reside in my bedroom as a child. I now realize that these soft, squishy effigies are just propaganda created by bears to disillusion the public into thinking that bears just want to be cuddled and loved and dressed up like ballerinas. In fact, they don't want any of those things to happen to them. They just want to rip off your flesh.
So, Google, how am I to deal with these truculent creatures? At first, Google suggested a slew of passive tactics aimed at keeping the bears at bay so that I could enjoy my travels through the park. Google didn't understand that this was no longer about nature hikes and fireside Kumbayas; this was about rising victorious against the bear race. After explaining this to Google, it offered one final solution: bear repellant.
'This is it.' I thought, 'This is how we win against the bears.' I clicked triumphantly on the link, but was met only by bold, red text.
One thing was clear - my employer is on the bear's side.
On an unrelated note, minutes later, I accidentally clicked on an advertisement touting discounted airfare and was redirected to a site offering scantily clad Eastern European women as mail-order brides that I had to frantically click out of and may be fired for tomorrow. Really, IT department? You were too lazy to block that site, but still bored enough to find and block a site about bear repellant. If I get fired for this, I'm punching each of you in the esophagus on my way out.
You may have won today, bears (with the help of the IT department), but I'm onto you. While we stand idly by, fretting over the national debt and gradual decline of talent on American Idol, blood-thirsty, maniacal bears are picking us off one by one. To protect the human race, we must launch a large-scale counterattack on the bears using the following steps:
Step 1) Realize that bears hate you.
Step 2) Discard any plush bears bears you have in your home, as they are spies.
Step 3) Find out if your employer is secretly working for the bears. Listen closely to water cooler gossip to determine if it contains any bear innuendos or randomly scream "Bear!" throughout the day and take note of people's reactions. If they don't seem terrified, they are probably a bear.
Step 4) Find a secure, private computer and order as much bear repellant as you can afford.
Step 5) Locate bear.
Step 6) Employ ninja sneak attack moves. (Tip: Summersaults work nicely.)
Step 7) Spray bear repellant onto bear.
Step 8) Watch bear disintegrate.
Tip: Don't get attacked by a bear before you are able to attack it. This gives them the upper hand and you will likely die.
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