Mr. Bear

I was looking ahead to plan my attack,
way out in the woods on a windy single track.

When I spotted a dark mass that seemed out of place,
off to the side in cleared out space.

As I got closer I could tell it was scat,
a huge pile of turds some animal had shat.

Hair tufts and berry seeds mixed in the stuff,
said a bear had dumped, sure enough.

It was an amazing sight to see,
fresh bear poop on the trail in front of me.

The steam off the pile was easy to smell,
and by its size I knew Mr. Bear ate well.

I looked around with a curious gaze,
looking for his shape in the morming haze.

Guess Mr Bear had pooped and fled,
off to find more food and maybe a bed.

I pedaled around his toilet site,
feeling calm as could be with nary a fright.

Cause the bears I encountered in this neck of the woods,
were always shy and hauled their goods.

His tracks were visible where the ground was wet,
Seemed Mr. Bear was in front of me yet.

I paused to look closer in a muddy place,
those tracks seemed too big for the black bear race.

It wasn't as big as a grizzly's paw,
but it was big enough to lower my jaw.

As I compared his foot size to mine ,
a nerve spasm puckered my sphincter and shot up my spine.

I'd felt that spasm on an Alaskan sandbar,
telling me a bear couldn't be far.

He chomped his jaws and gave me a snort,
telling me he wasn't the usual shy-bear sort.

His smell proceeded his approach through the brush,
its reek up my nostrils with a mighty gush.

He made heavy breathing a refined art,
and his body funk was like a bad fart.

I was all atremble with the need to flee,
but full of the dread he'd come chasing after me.

Maybe if I could present myself a bigger kind,
he'd reconsider any mischief he had on his mind.

So I raised my bike up into the sky,
adrenaline helping me hold it high.

I gave a loud growl like I was ready to rumble,
hoping to keep my feet and not take a tumble.

That fearsome beast came out of the trees,
toward me standing with shaking knees.

I hollered "Hey Bear" and feinted his way,
trying to scare him off and save my day.

I am not sure but I think he had a slight grin,
when he swung his big paw against my chin.

I brought my bike down on his head with a thump,
turned to run but he glommed onto my rump.

Me and that bear had a terrible fight,
hitting and biting with all our might.

I suppose you figure that bear would win,
but taking bets on the action would have been a real sin.

Mr. Bear didn't know I was packing a gun,
too busy to reach as we had our rough fun.

When he tore off my arm at the shoulder,
I grabbed it up and beat him even bolder.

He knocked me down when I kicked him in the gut,
he was chewing my thigh when I bit off his left nut.

He crawled off me with a howling sound,
gave me time to get my gun and fire off a round.

I pumped a full clip into his bulk,
made Mr. Bear crawl off in a pitiful sulk.

I sat weak on the ground, a goner for sure,
both me and the bear with wounds and no cure.

The last thought that flickered thru my head,
mess with a biker, you wind up dead.