Mark and Kyra Doing Dumb Stuff Pt 1 (Written by Kyra Organa)

How To Survive A Bear Attack

One time, Mark Swift and Kyra Organa were walking in the woods. They were hiking across the Smoky Mountains because of a challenge one mutual friend of theirs suggested. Thanks a lot, Steve. Deep in bear country and miles away from civilization, Mark decided to eat some summer sausage for lunch. As he was cutting the meat, the smell attracts a fierce black bear. Leaping out of the woods, the furry beast roared, a wild rage glinting in it’s empty eyes. “Mark!” Kyra screamed, eyes wide “it’s all your fault!” “This is no time for inside jokes,” retorted Mark, remaining motionless “And it was your idea to bring the sausage, so it’s your fault.” “As you said, not the time; what do we do?” Kyra asked, scanning the surroundings. “Die, maybe?” he joked, “Nah. I’m gonna run.” Before Kyra could say anything he was off. The bear turned rabidly to Mark. The creature sped toward Mark, quickly overtaking him and tackling him to the ground. “Did I forget to mention Black bears can run twice as fast as a human?” Kyra said nervously. “Yeah, you kinda forgot that,” Mark groaned, preparing for the worst. “Hey, hair ball!” Kyra shouted, “Want some sausage?” She began to wave the cylindrical tube of meat in the air. The bear turned and charged. “Aw, nuts,” she breathed. She dashed up a tree, but the bear followed, shredding the trunk into ribbons. “Mark!” she shouted, “Will ya help, or continue to play dead?” Mark sat up and smirked. “You never let me have any fun.” Kyra began to kick the bear’s wet nose with her boots. It growled angrily, but seemed less confident. Mark jumped onto the bear’s back and began to beat it with a stick. Kyra kicked it square in the jaw. “Mark, you keep the bear busy,” Kyra said as she leaped down from the tree and began to casually trot toward the bags. “Anytime now,” Mark growled through clenched teeth. Kyra began to dig through the bags as Mark continued his dangerous game if wack-a-bear. The bear reared up on it’s hind legs. Mark grabbed onto its deep brown fur. The stick fell out of his hands. “Oh no,” he groaned. “Got it!” Kyra exclaimed. She victoriously held up two pans. “Are you kidding me?” Mark said, kicking the bear. “Nope,” she smirked. She unbuttoned her jacket and began to stomp in the dirt, banging her pots together and doing some sort of demented chicken dance. The bear lowered himself back down to his four legs and flattened his ears. He nervously backed away. Mark slid off the bear and rolled away. “Make yourself bigger and make more noise,” Kyra ordered. Mark stood tall and spread his arms out and began barking. The bear backed into the bushes and was gone. “You’re fault,” Kyra promptly said. “What? It was obviously YOUR fault,” he argued. “No way,” Kyra replied. “Yes way,” he said. Thanks a lot, Steve.