[dc]I[/dc] often wonder, “What would it be like to fight a bear?”
Hi guy. Photo by me.
Now, I don’t mean hunt and shoot a grizzly, or even a polar. I’m talking about getting in a ring and going three rounds with the snarling beast in a live-action Punch-Out. Winner takes all, which in this case may only be a brand new unicycle or a fresh salmon.
Boxing gloves would be a necessity, as said bear could easily tear me to pieces with its mighty claws—and that wouldn’t be fair, now would it? Cat Scratch Fever, this ain’t. It’d be more like Disemboweled Fever, which is a fever I certainly do not want.
And if I’m insisting on gloves, then the bear should probably have a muzzle as well. It isn’t fair if it could bite me in half.
On a related note, I wonder what Mike Tyson is up to these days? Maybe he could train me for the fight. Or I could just play Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out on Nintendo about 500 times.
In the terms of a muzzle, I don’t mean a full-face muzzle either, just something to cover its dagger filled, salivating maw. Let’s keep it gentlemanly, as there is no reason to degrade the majestic mammal.
My other concern would be the vast weight difference, but I’m already handicapping the bear’s claws and jaws, so I guess I have to let it have something. It’ll be like the time I fought a Santa at the mall.
Even with these handicaps, I’m sure the bear could easily toss me around like a rag doll. They are rather strong, so I hear, and I’m rather scrawny. Maybe if I distracted it with honey—er, excuse me—hunny?
And what kind of bear? There are quite a few, according to even the most casual of Internet research: grizzly, black, brown, gummi, polar, Pooh, Care, panda, and even Chicago.
Great. Now I have a craving for deep-dish pizza.
Why would I do such a thing as fight a bear in the first place? It is a man thing, I guess. We see animals and we want to beat them up, be it bear, hippo, or even bongo. Taking on a bear with only my fists would fill some manner of deep dwelling man-urge, I’m sure.
Wait. “Man-urge”? Let’s rephrase that to something slightly less Freudian: Fighting a bear would Jesus, my mother is controlling…uh.
Ah, hell.
