Bear v. Shark: The Novel

by Chris Bachelder

  But perchance the first news that will leak through into the broad, flapping American ear will be that the Princess Adelaide has the whooping cough.

  Hey, you’ve been reading Thoreau.

  As you know, Barbara, he’ll be joining us next week.

  50

  Accordion Knot

  Back at cruising speed, it’s family time: Mr. Norman calls home to retrieve phone messages while Mrs. Norman does a little back-to-school shopping for the boys on the Internet while Matthew plays Bear Killer and the other boy (the younger one) listens to headphones and plays Deep Sea Gore III and does some e-shopping for his main squeeze back home.

  Matthew says, “Hey what’s a Guardian knot?”

  Mrs. Norman says, “I think you mean a Gordon knot.”

  Curtis, talking too loud because of his headphones, says, “I always thought it was Accordion knot.”

  Bear Killer says, “I vanquish thee.”

  Matthew says, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Curtis says, “Well neither does Guardian knot, butt lick.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “Curtis, don’t call Gordon a butt lick.”

  Matthew says, “It’s Matthew.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “Each of your errors makes quite a bit of sense, each in their own special way.”

  Deep Sea Gore III says, “My femur is shattered, Hank.”

  Curtis says, “The Accordion knot was essentially a knot to tie up Phrygian bears, but the bears cut the knots with their pipin’ swords.”

  The first day’s drive is nearly complete.

  Matthew says, “So how does Accordion knot, which is wrong, make sense and not Guardian knot?”

  She (the answering machine) says, “You have fourteen new messages.” Her voice is husky but demure. Wow.

  Mr. Norman feels exhausted, but also something else.

  Curtis, loudly, says, “In Cub Scouts we learned the carrick bend, the Blackwall hitch, and the slipknot.”

  Nauseated, yes, and dizzy. Bloated on sodium, goes without saying. Disoriented, numb.

  Mrs. Norman says, “You won’t get to tie up bears until Boy Scouts.”

  She (the answering machine) says, “Press one to review first message.” So selfless, staying home to take messages while the family goes abroad.

  But something else, too. There’s something else in him besides the beat and burn of his heart.

  Matthew says, “You could hold a bear with a damn granny knot.”

  The answering machine says, “Touch two to save message.” That voice is something else. It’s difficult to tell how sexually experienced she is.

  He (Mr. Norman) feels restless, maybe that’s it. No, not restless, exactly.

  Curtis says, “Yeah, that’s what the Phrygians thought, and then they got a little taste of bear steel.”

  She says, “Ooh, touch two again.”

  Lonesome.

  51

  Discussion Questions

  An obscure and alarmist media critic once wrote, “In America we are never denied the opportunity to amuse ourselves.” Write about a time when you were denied this fundamental right. How did it make you feel?

  Explain the significance of the archetype of the journey in the Western Literary Canon (WLC). Is the author employing and/or manipulating this archetype in this work? How does that make you feel?

  Interview your family members and do some research on the Internet. Why or why not? Explain. Discuss. Compare and Contrast. Use appropriate Margins. Dont cheat. Dont disappoint us. Take the Princeton Review course whatever you do. Remember: The French and the Indians fought together during the French and Indian War, and how does that make you feel?

  What does the use of present tense indicate about the utter obliteration of memory, history, and critical reflection, and what direction do you think hemlines will be moving in the fall?

  Who do you think would win in a fight between a bear and a shark? Show your work.

  Write about a time when Cultural Transmissions made you feel weak, passive, obedient, vertiginous, alienated, isolated, atomized, brand-loyal, spiritually comatose, compliant, simultaneously gullible and cynical, politically impotent, numb. How did this make you feel?

  Italo Calvino once wrote, Satire is not the approach [to comedy] that I find most congenial. One component of satire is moralism, and another is mockery. Anyone who plays the moralist thinks he is better than others, whereas anyone who goes in for mockery thinks he is smarter. In any case, satire excludes an attitude of questioning and of questing. Well, then. Gosh. (a) Do you find this book to be roiling with moralism and mockery? (b) Do you think the author thinks he is better and smarter than you? (c) How does this make you feel? (d) How do you think this makes the author feel, lying in bed in the dark? (e) Dont you think the author lying in the dark often wishes he had written a more serious and questing book? (f) With penetrating insights into the human heart? (g) Dont you just kind of get the sense that the author masks his sorrows behind layers of jokes, this chapter being one of them? (h) The word roiling being one of them? (i) Each damn character being one of them? (j) Didnt Barthelme do this quiz stunt back in like 1965 or something? (k) Would you believe that the author is genuinely sorry? (l) Beneath the crusty strata of irony? (m) Sad and sorry? (n) And do you think that maybe, with all due respect to Mr. Calvino, yet another element of satire is the satirists heartfelt and heartbroken sense that things really could be better than they are? (o) Much better? (p) Why point it out and make fun of it otherwise? (q) Arent satirists just sentimental and oversensitive cranks who just wish the world were a kinder place and furthermore sort of believe that it could be a kinder place and it is therefore tragic that its such a cruel and stupid place? (r) Do you think you might like to come over to the authors little apartment sometime to talk and have coffee if he promised not to be so arch and droll? (s) Not even for that long, maybe like forty-five minutes? (t) If he apologized for the whole bear porn thing? (u) Doesnt it seem like that could be neat and meaningful? Please discuss.

  52

  www.bearnaked.com

  Click here for the world’s raunchiest ursine porn site. We’ve got hundreds of hot, wet bear sluts, just the way you like ’em!

  We’ve got bear onion, bear beaver, bears in panties, bears in leather, bear on bear, two girls and a bear, teen bear, circus bear whores who can’t get enough, Big Mama bears with eight titties, schoolgirl bears, French maid bears who love to go down, bears in bondage, dildo bears, cubs, doggy-style bears, bears in heat, footlong bears, sleeping bears, and much, much more.

  Visa and MasterCard accepted. Must be 12 or over.

  53

  Plugged Inn

  The Normans locate their hotel off of the interstate. It’s a Plugged Inn, a quaint new American-style chain that offers, in its upscale rooms, two Televisions, Internet access, and scores of virtual amenities, as well as a real swimming pool.

  The idea is that you can stay connected in style. It’s like you can work and play just like you were at home, except youre not at home, youre in a hotel room somewhere. The idea is that you never I mean never have to miss a cop show or a video conference or a sexy chat-room discussion. It just doesnt matter how far you are from home. It’s really just like being at home, except much smaller and more expensive.

  Mr. Norman, heck, what a long drive, says, “What?”

  Mrs. Norman reboots.

  While Curtis programs his General Topics of Personal Interest, Matthew programs his General Topics of Personal Interest.

  Mr. Norman says, “How about a swim?”

  Mr. Norman’s family stares at Mr. Norman, six eyes on the guy who said swim. Mrs. Norman actually does a double take, sitcom style. Nails it. Then, realizing what she’s done, she does it again a second double take, thats four takes in all but this second double take is stilted, mechanical, self-conscious, and she knows it.

  She (Mrs. Norman) says, “Shoot.”

  Curtis’s GTPI: Martial Arts, Extreme Stocks & Bonds, Aust
ralian Rules Football, Art with Blood, Window Treatments, the Dutch.

  Mr. Norman says, “Come on, honey, let’s take a dip.” He looks at her, well, funny. He winks and twitches. He says, “There’s nobody in the pool right now.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “What?”

  Mr. Norman says, “No lifeguard on duty.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “But I want to check the Internet to see where we’ve gone today.” She logs on at the bedside port.

  Matthew watches a show that shows a blindfolded contestant touching a series of objects and guessing which one is her husband.

  Outside the real window the sun sets in pretty chemical hues.

  Curtis’s picture: Edgy handheld footage of inexpensive homemade curtains.

  Picture in picture: Edgy faux low-budget handheld footage of a dike.

  A woman on Matthew’s Television says, “Now this is Paul, I just know it.

  Mr. Norman mutilates his swimming trunks with a pair of scissors built into his watch.

  Dent Trilling, the Game Show Host on Matthew’s Television, says, “Oooh, sorry, Mrs. Tanner, that’s not your spouse. Would you believe it’s a chinchilla?

  Mrs. Norman stares into the bedside monitor, reviewing the day’s journey, nodding. She says, “No wonder it was so fun.”

  Mr. Norman studies his twitching and winking in the mirror. He says softly to his wife, “I’m going down to the pool. I’ll see you in a few minutes, you hot thing.”

  Mrs. Norman’s double take lacks that certain something.

  Curtis’s Television says, “The blue chips are pipin’.”

  Matthew’s Television says, “See you next week on . . . [audience yells along] . . . THAT’S . . . NOT . . . YOUR . . . SPOUSE!”

  Offstage Paul Tanner says to crying wife, “Mind telling me how the fuck you mistake me for a small South American rodent raised for its silvery gray fur?

  54

  Non Sequitur

  A Television Personality says, OK, we just have about thirty seconds left. Tell us about your new self-published book.

  The new self-published book author says, My main point, Carol, is that our culture’s information practices have just about done away with the concept of a non sequitur. In other words, we now fully expect things not to follow from other things, such that when things do not follow from other things, they seem to follow quite naturally from other things.

  The Television Personality says, Well, you lost me, I’m afraid.

  The new self-published book author says, The real non sequitur has perhaps become the sequitur, so to speak.

  The Television Personality says, Whoa, the sequitur, huh?

  The Television Show Director says, Five seconds.

  The Television Show Producer says, Remind me never to have another author on the show.

  Roland Barthes (author of Mythologies) says, In fact, nothing can be safe from myth.

  The new self-published book author says, When a point follows another point it seems not to follow at all because we expect it not to follow and when it doesn’t it seems as if it does because we expected it not to.

  That’s a wrap.

  The Television Commercial says, If you have lung cancer, would you rather go to some general practitioner or to a lung cancer specialist? At Green Paint, we don’t just dabble in greens like other paint companies. Green is what we do. So whether you need a lime or a forest, a pea or a hunter, a sage or a kelly, come to Green Paint, where green has been a specialty for over twenty years. And remember: We do lawns.

  55

  Patented Flap

  In the dark, heavily chlorinated pool of the Plugged Inn, Mr. Norman twitches and rubs himself against the shivering Mrs. Norman.

  Through chattering teeth Mrs. Norman says, “Fresh minty taste.”

  Things are going pretty well.

  The poolside Television says, “Nobody wants to be constipated as a result of their diarrhea medicine.”

  Mr. Norman takes Mrs. Norman’s hand and places it on his, well, penis, which is protruding into the chlorine through a hole he has cut in the crotch of his swimming trunks. In the water, his erection looks bent and wavy. It appears to squiggle and pulse. Desire refracted.

  Mrs. Norman gasps.

  Mr. Norman twitches sexily. He winks at her with an eye all red from driving and pool chemicals. His wet hair sticks up funny.

  Mrs. Norman says, “Larry.”

  Mr. Norman says, “I saw it on the Television.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “I saw it, too. Interesting program on prison sex.”

  Mr. Norman says, “Prisoners are still people.”

  He kisses Mrs. Norman on the neck. He licks her, tastes the urine and chlorine. Who would win in a fight between Dirty and Clean?

  A dead cricket floats past.

  Mrs. Norman says, “Larry, I bought those swimming trunks at Griffith’s. They’re durable, yet sporty. They’re safe to one hundred meters. They dry quickly and they’ve got a special patented Antichafe Flap.”

  Mr. Norman gazes down into the dark water at his patented trunks, his shimmering flagellum.

  Mrs. Norman says, “You cut the flap, Larry.”

  Mr. Norman says, “We’ll just get another pair.” He gropes Mrs. Norman underwater.

  A sign outside the pool says, “The management requests that you relax, enjoy your stay with us, and don’t pee in the pool.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “We can’t get another pair. I got them at a going-out-of-business sale. Sixty percent off.”

  Mr. Norman stops groping and twitching. He pushes the wavy thingy back into his trunks. It pops out again.

  He says, “Sixty percent off everything or just specially marked items?”

  A third-floor balcony Television says, “Plenty of head rheum.”

  The Normans bob and tread, locked and awkward.

  Mrs. Norman says, “Ouch.”

  Mr. Norman says, “This is not exactly what I want. It’s sort of close, though.”

  Mrs. Norman says, “Not here.”

  Mr. Norman says, “I mean, don’t you just worry about the children?”

  Mrs. Norman says, “Every day of my life.”

  56

  Shark’s Belly

  Ever see inside a shark’s belly, like on Television?

  Who hasn’t?

  Like when they split the shark open?

  Stock footage.

  All kinds of detritus and flotsam.

  Damn junkyard.

  Tires, oil drums —

  Other sharks’ bellies, human babies —

  Trees, pirate ships —

  Robots, anchors —

  Plankton, scrod —

  Scuba gear, driftwood —

  Tacos, wildflowers —

  Hash browns —

  Gold ingots —

  Wiener dogs.

  Buoyed lagan, in general.

  Not a fussy eater.

  No.

  Literally needs to eat or it will die.

  Two stomachs like a cow.

  Three’s what I heard.

  Hey you still awake?

  Yeah.

  Ever sat in the back of a pickup at a county dump in almost-Canada Minnesota and watched the running of the northern lights?

  The oriole bolus.

  And then when you’re kind of drunk on PBR and about asleep and think you done missed what you came to see you wake up and see the thick silhouettes of bears amongst the rubbish and offal?

  All in the dumpsters. Upside down and whatnot.

  Ain’t been built a refuse containment system can keep out a bear.

  Among its attributes is a steely caginess and paws that work like hands.

  And a love of syrup.

  Not the lite kind, either.

  Shit.

  57

  A Subtle Weapon of

  Mass Destruction

  Mr. Norman can’t sleep, what’s new.

  The Televisions cast entertaining shadows on the walls.

&nbs
p; In the next bed over, Mr. Norman’s sons talk steadily in their sleep, an ongoing conversation that comes together and then moves apart, loosely braided, like two plastic vines climbing an imitation oak.

  Beside him, Mrs. Norman is asleep, snoring quietly, her headphones whispering encouragement to her vertebrae.

  Mr. Norman gets dressed and wanders the halls of the Plugged Inn. He can hear his fellow travelers in their boxes. In one room, a couple is having a loud and passionate fight, but it turns out to be just the Television. In another room, a couple is fucking up a storm, but it turns out to be just the Television. In other rooms, a father teaches his little girl how to fish, a family mourns the death of a grandmother, a man talks to his favorite beer, a woman successfully juggles a career and all domestic responsibilities.

  The non-Television people are quiet. It’s like they’re not even in there.

  Mr. Norman walks the mazes of the Plugged Inn, looking for something, he knows not what. Something: A smooth, dry, cold-filtered, ice-brewed Brew with no Bitter Aftertaste? A twin-cam engine? A Hearty Snack that will tide him over? Perhaps an expensive and stylishly shoddy haircut that says to the world, Why should I care about my hair when there is so much else to worry about like ozone and poverty?

  He (Mr. Norman), hair stylelessly shoddy, ends up at the small Television lounge on the third floor. The door is closed. He hears voices inside.

  One voice (the Television?) says, “All the lard with none of the guilt.”

  Another voice (Plotter No. 1) says, “Look, I hate Asians as much as anyone, but we can’t blow up the whole fucking country of Las Vegas.”

  Another voice (Plotter No. 2) says, “Well we damn sure got to blow up something.

  The closed door is unlocked and Mr. Norman opens it. He would like some company.