A Bear With No Name

He sat in the office down the hall. I never really spoke to him. All I ever said was "Good morning" or "Have a good weekend" and that was it. One day there was food at the table next to his office. I stood there looking at it. He saw me. He came outside and said "I went bear hunting this weekend. I prepared this myself. Try it. It's delicious with crackers." I was intrigued at the fact that those were the most words he's ever said to me and the fact that there was bear meat a few inches from my hand. So I grabbed a chunk of bear meat and a couple crackers and thanked him and walked back to my desk.

I took a bite. I thought about the flavors in my mouth. The texture, the taste, the smell. It was disgusting. I spit it out and ate as much crackers I could to get that nasty flavor out of my mouth. I can't really describe the taste of it. It was almost like a hamburger patty that had been left out on the kitchen for a week. The texture was kinda like a rubbery meatloaf. The smell was horrible.

But I am glad to tell people that I've tasted bear. And I never talked to that guy ever again. His office got moved.