(Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding)
People do not attempt glamping in an area where a bear is running loose. Rather, bears do not, or are not supposed to run around gleefully like happiness on steroids where glampers have set up their tents.
By nature, averse to adventure, Venky preferred to spend time with his nose buried in a Raymond Carver rather than raft across an expanse of turbulent white waters. Hence, when he proudly unfurled a green tent and whipped out the round tickets for the bus his friends were gob-smacked.
It was going well until the god-damned sun bear arrived. At 65 kgs, this was one of the smallest species of them all. But bite matters more than size. The searing pain when the bloody bear plunged its teeth into the ample posterior of Venky as he was stooping to zip the tent, made him scream so loud that the nasty bear jumped up with fright. Both man and bear stood screaming and shrieking for a few seconds.
By the time help arrived, what was once a Blue Jeans lay on the ground torn to bits with Venky hanging perilously from a branch and trying to ward off the bear with a long stick.
(Word Count – 199)
Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit HERE
To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, click HERE
1 comment
Oh, wicked me, I’m chuckling at Venky’s discomfort. But it is humorously told.