The Garbage Can

I was in the living room, doing light exercises and watching the television.

It was 10 PM. The temperature had hit 101.5 F at our house. Now it had dropped to 80. I’d gone around, opening the windows to cool us off.

Strong skunk smells began coming in with the cool air. Cursing, I went around closing the windows I’d opened about ten minutes before.

As I was doing this, my wife came in. “I heard something knock over a garbage can.”

“Our garbage can?” I asked. It’s behind a fence so –

“I don’t know where it was. I think it was on the street.”

Confirming that Papi was safely inside, my wife went to the front door. Picking up a flashlight, I joined her, turning on the porch light and unlocking the door. She did a little start. As I went out, she took hold of my shirt and followed.

I shined the flashlight along the dark street. Sirens were rising. Emergency vehicles raced along the main road about a hundred feet below us.

“See any trashcans?” my wife asked.

“Just that one.” I shone the light on a bulky shape across the street.

“That trashcan has eyes,” my wife said.

“It does,” I agree.

At that point, we knew it was a bear. Black bears are common in our area. Down on all fours, the bear looked about four feet tall at its shoulders. It casually turned and took a few steps toward us.

My wife took a few steps backwards.

I laughed.

The bear disappeared behind some bushes lining the street. “Let’s go in the house,” I suggested.

“Okay.” As we went in, my wife said, “I was ready to give you a quick push and then shuffle backwards into the house.”

I chuckled. “I wasn’t worried. I know I’m faster than you.”

She laughed.

I looked back with the flashlight. The beer loped up the street.

My wife said, “I smell skunk.”

We went inside. I resumed closing the windows.