T'was the Night of the Twenty-Fourth of July
BY MAUREEN NOWOSAD
T'was the night of the twenty-fourth of July
And the sun was gleaming down from the midnight sky
The children were all sleeping safely on the back seat of the truck
As The Wife and I stared out the window, completely dumbstruck
A grizzly and her cubs had come to pay us a visit by this peaceful light
Scaring us to death as they cheerfully tore into our campsite
And like uninvited in-laws come to stay, they settled into our tent
Slashed our sleeping bags, and in the side of the cooler made a huge dent
How quickly they raided through everything, I could not help but admire
Even laughed a little when they threw my fishing rod on the campfire
But watching them stomp my digital camera was unbearable
And worse yet was what they did to my hiking boots, which made them forever unwearable
To protect my family, I knew I had to do something
But these things take time and careful planning
So go ahead and whine and pout, but for your information, my dearest wife
I have absolutely no intention of fighting ANYTHING with my Swiss Army knife
As the stars twinkled weakly through the windshield now coated with summer frost
I shivered and added up in my mind what all this quality time was actually going to cost
Then watched in the rear-view mirror as our dog slunk into the truck bed to hide
While those cute little cubs ripped off the bumper and tossed it aside
After a while, things were getting desperate because The Wife had to pee
But I still hadn't come up with a plan that came with any sort of a guarantee
And besides, since our pickup does not have doors and windows that seal tight
I was feeling kind of drained by the ten-million mosquito bites
To get to the ranger station, I was idly contemplating being heroic
Picturing myself as all super-cool and stoic
Even had my hand on the door handle in case I was forced to do something rash
When all of a sudden, from the RV next door, there came an almighty crash
A plump old man with a bushy white beard, and dressed only in red long underwear
Leaped out, swearing in French and firing a shotgun into the air
His rosy-cheeked missus followed behind, banging a frying pan with a wooden spoon
Dancing a jig and howling at the moon
Now, I don't know if it was the explosion or their insane rants
But both the bears and I pooped our pants
Into the forest three furballs fled in a flash
While I tried to squeeze in under the dash
The Wife slid me a look of disdain and mouthed something I suspect was rude and stinging
But I couldn't hear because my heart was pounding and my ears were still ringing
Mister yelled, "You can come out now and get your keys, they're good and gone."
But I had every intention of staying exactly where I was, until dawn
All the noise awoke my sleepy-eyed son who yelled, "Look Dad, it's Santa Claus!"
And I agreed without a moment's pause
After all, up here so close to the North Pole, who was I to tell him he was mistaken
And that it was probably just an old prospector who had saved our beer and bacon