Yeah, so, The Man loves to hunt.
The Man (also known as my dad) is all about killing animals, camping and all those outdoorsy things that I hate. We do have a few things in common, though. We both have an assy sense of humor, and we both love the San Francisco Giants.
So anyway, when I tell people that The Man is really into hunting, I don’t think they really get it. I’m mean, he’s really into hunting. He travels the world and kills things. It’s not enough for him to kill a beautiful deer in this country. He travels to South Africa to kill their deer, too.
There is a room in my parents’ house in Concord that I call “The Ego Room.” It is filled with my dad’s dead animals. See?
I’m sure it goes without saying that I do not like to hunt. At a very young age, I rejected my father’s lifestyle choice. I think it’s cruel and sad, and I’ve made my objections known to The Man. He spares me the gory details of his hunting trips. When he shows me photos he removes all the dead animal photos first, which is probably the closest The Man has gotten to saying, “I love you.”
Now, with that said, there is one animal in the Ego Room that piques my interest. It’s a brown bear (actually, The Man has informed me multiple times that it is a Black Bear, but it’s brown in color, so there). It’s just standing there with a kinda thoughtful look on its face. You’d think if you are going to kill something so ferocious you would have it mounted in some sort of threatening position; maybe with its mouth open, teething showing and claws out. Nope. This one looks like it’s thinking, “I wonder if my DVR recorded ‘America’s Got Talent?’.”
So, for some reason, I have great affection for this bear. And whenever my parents try to have a serious conversation with me about their will and what they are going to leave to us kids when they die, I just cut them off and say, “I don’t care about your money or your property. I just want the bear.”
One day, The Man finally asked me, “Why do you want the bear so bad?”
“I don’t know. I kinda just want to get a car with a sunroof and drive around with it sticking out,” I said.
And he laughed, because he understands my assy sense of humor.