Grizzly Prospects

I used my vast collection of Thanks-For-Charging-It VISA Points for a gift card to use online at Cabela's.
If that seems an odd choice on my part, you're right!  A Brit might cry out:  "Spot on!"

Hunting, archery, and shooting -- not the favored pasttimes you'll have noted here at elle est belle la seine. 

What does Cabela's offer for someone as refined as myself?  What might I actually order from an outfitter of camouflaged Bambi assasins? 

{sniff}

Why, Bear Repellent, of course!

Not the wimpy 1.9 ounce spray designed for suburban joggers to bring down some average and unimaginative -- though admittedly fast -- miscreant... Not that fifth-of-a-second's bit of perfumed spray that hangs on a keychain, either.  We are talking over 13 ounces of Predator Defense, enough to erect a Wall of Wicked WhoopAss from 35 feet away.

If I could walk, I'd swagger.

My WhoopAss Bear Repellent was not designed to be used on humans. Nowhere in the sales points or in the WhoopAss Bear Repellent literature is use on humans condoned or advised.

Therefore, I immediately set to work on a moving, yet clearly exculpatory, Penitent Confession to commit to memory -- because I fully intend to release my beast on Mortal Man. 

(Unless Marlinspike Hall is invaded by grizzlies ineluctably drawn by the abundance of Koi and MoatMonster Fish.  Grizzlies are, il faut le dire, not exactly common in Tête de Hergé [très décédé, d'ailleurs].)

The Former-Inmate-Turned-Security-Advisor consulted by an alarmed -- but notably absent -- Captain Haddock, has directed me to attach the Bear Repellent to the right arm of the wheelchair, within easy reach but sufficiently out of the way that it won't be set off accidentally.  I am also instructed to always have a phone on board -- though if it takes the police an hour to respond, I am not sure that matters.  I get the sense, from the epic number of winks winked my way, that the old Haddock family charm may have reached out to local law enforcement... so, fine, I will give Tante Louise a buzz during or after our next break-in.  (Tante Louise is our area's version of an early response system!)  During or after, but not before I unleash The Beast and deliver my personal brand of WhoopAss upon the Intrepid Interloper!

The spray comes with a handy guide, called "Bear Safety Tips." I set about reading it straight away, of course.

You know those humor segments that feature "the world's dumbest X" -- robbers that choose to enter via the ceiling and get stuck between floors, the thief who leaves his wallet behind, the calculus teacher that can't do basic math?  The common element, what makes us guffaw, is the lack of expertise exhibited by the purported expert -- the trapped robber, the identified thief, the ignorant schoolteacher.

Consider the parents described in my handy "Bear Safety Tips" booklet by UDAP Bear Defense Spray President Mark Matheny:

In the past, bear spray has received some negative press because, when used incorrectly, the odor of the bear pepper spray can actually attract bears.  Some individuals, under the mistaken impression that bear spray acts as a repellant, have sprayed their personal items with it in an attempt to deter bears from getting into their gear.  Parents have even sprayed it on their children and themselves like it is OFF or DEET insect repellent.  DO NOT SPRAY PEPPER POWER BEAR DETERRENT ON PEOPLE!

Can you imagine spraying your child with anything without knowing what it was, without any idea of what it might do?  I mean, if you wish to be an idiot, do it on your own time, and on your own mucous membranes...

What?

Did I notice that last sentence?  "DO NOT SPRAY... ON PEOPLE"?  I've already stated my intentions and not even a phrase in all CAPS is going to make me act any differently.  My Penitent Confession isn't quite ready for use, but in the meantime, should another Intrepid Intruder decide to climb through our glassless Fresh Air Access Modules (preceded by his useless hammer), were I to accidentally confuse him for a rabid grizzly bear, who is going to cry "Foul"?

I promise that during the hour spent waiting for the police to finish their Monks Fudge down at the Cistercians' Place I will gently bathe the eyes of the whimpering behemoth that I mistook for Ursus arctos horribilis... while La Bonne et Belle Bianca Castafiore serenades the savage beast, most likely with a selection from Gounod's Faust.

I wonder what else my Thanks-For-Charging-It Points on my Tête de Hergé VISA might deliver, in terms of protecting The Manor?


photo credit:  Mathieu Belanger/Reuters