Bear v. Shark Read Online Free PDF

TeleTown?
    Of course.
    What do you know about it?
    Everyone knows about TeleTown. It’s the scenic bivouac featured on so many postcards and calendars and screensavers.
    There’s more.
    Gypsies live there and make cookies. There are a million TVs, with more arriving all the time.
    You don’t know everything about TeleTown.
    I don’t really know what a bivouac is.
    Just know that we’re out here.
    Who? Where? What are you selling?
    Travel well.
    Wait.
    Yes?
    Help me.
    What?
    I’m happy with my car insurance.
    Good-bye.
    Mrs. Norman says, “Who was that?”
    Mr. Norman says, “A mysterious caller.”
    Mrs. Norman says, “Well what did they want?”
    Mr. Norman says, “That is exactly what I don’t know.”

19
A Dead Mouse Is Still a Mouse
    The Normans of America aren’t even out of their suburban driveway when Curtis, the younger of the two boys, starts talking from the back of the Sport Utility Vehicle (SUV) about this couple that had a baby even though the woman had been in prison a long time but the husband had met her on a conjurer visit and they cut holes in their jeans and hid from the security cameras in the visiting room.
    Mr. Norman (driving) says, “Jesus.” He is mildly aroused. The part about the holes in the jeans.
    Mrs. Norman (front, passenger side) says, “That’s
conjugal
visit, Curtis.”
    Curtis says, “What did I say?”
    Mr. Norman, neck cradled in the Vibra-Dream Plus, says, “You said jugular visit.”
    Curtis says, “Oh. Well that’s what they said on the Television.”
    Mr. Norman says, “They said jugular visit on the Television?”
    Curtis says, “Yeah, on the Prison Network.”
    Mr. Norman says, “Huh.”
    Mrs. Norman, feet resting flat on the floor shoulder width apart, says, “No, honey, you said
conjurer
visit.”
    Curtis says, “I could have sworn I said jugular.”
    Mrs. Norman says, “And I don’t really want you talking about prison sex back there.”
    Somewhere nearby something explodes, rattling the futuristic cup holders in the Sport Utility Vehicle. Somewhere nearby someone screams.
    Curtis says, “Well, that’s just what they said on the Television.”
    Mr. Norman says, “Gosh, people do find a way, don’t they?”
    Mrs. Norman says, “Larry.”
    The Normans (husband and wife) have not slept in the same bed in some time. Mr. Norman sleeps not well. Mrs. Norman has turned to Posture. They met somewhere and they fell in love and they both just
knew
it was right and there were nights, weren’t there nights?, all coiled up with their silly, tender jokes and their fingers tracing faces, the ruined sheets, the smell of their bodies, the ache and shimmer of the future, some clock somewhere chiming three, then four, on a weeknight. Curtis says something and then Matthew says something. There were nights, his lips on the pulse of her neck, whispering Sweetheart let’s make love in every state of the union and Vegas, too. Sweetheart I want to memorize you.
    It wasn’t a movie. It may have happened. It wasn’t a movie.
    Mr. Norman drives the Sport Utility Vehicle through neighborhoods lined with splendid trees, their thick trunks columned in classical decay, their black, leafless branches like skeleton fingers reaching over the oily streets.
    It always seemed like her hair, Mrs. Norman’s hair, got curlier while she slept. In the morning a beautiful mess.
    Mr. Norman says, “What kind of trees, boys?” A quiz.
    The boys say, “Dead.”
    Mr. Norman says, “Aha, but a dead mouse is still a mouse.”
    Mrs. Norman says, “It’s all this heat.”
    Mr. Norman says, “I thought it was all those chemicals in the ground.”
    Matthew says, “I thought it was Dutch lime disease.”
    Mrs. Norman says, “Well, yes, but it’s the heat that makes the chemicals so bad. It’s a symbiotic relationship.”
    She (the cordless vibrating pillow) says, “You, sir, are a fantastic driver.”
    Matthew says to Curtis (his younger brother), “
Conjurer
visit?”
    Matthew says,