Hills Like White Ursus (Mircofiction)
Schick, whoomf; schick, whoomf.
“I said I was sorry.”
“No, you said ‘I said I was sorry.’ You didn’t actually say ‘I’m sorry’.”
Schick, whoomf; schick, whoomf.
“…well I am.”
“What?”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“I’m sorry I wanted to see the polar bears.”
Schick, whoomf; pause.
“That’s what you’re sorry for.”
“You wanted it too!”
Schick, whoomf. “Right. Shift it on me. Unbelievable.”
“How is this my fault?”
“Just dig the damn snow.”
Schick, whoomf.
Schick, whoomf.
“Nobody made you come.”
“Right, I’m just supposed to let you go off on your own.”
“You could have!”
Schick, whoomf.
“You never trust me.”
“Oh, I trust you plenty.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’re losing daylight.”
“You think this is my fault.”
“Well, it wasn’t me who packed sausages, so…”
Schick, whoomf; schick, whoomf.
“I thought-”
“We’d have trouble finding bears. I know.”
“It’s a big tundra!”
“It certainly is.”
“It worked, didn’t it? We found them.”
“Really? Because I’d say they found us.” Schick, whoomf. “Which is why-” Schick, whoomf. “-the guide-” Schick, whoomf. “-said not-” Schick, whoomf. “-to bring-” Schick, whoomf. “-bloody-” Schick, whoomf. “‑food.”
Pause. Schick.
“There. That should be deep enough.”
“The great outdoorsman.”
“I’m not… just start packing walls.”
“Whatever.”
Fwomp. Pause. Paff paff paff. Paff paff paff.
“You probably think the skiddoo was my fault too.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
Paff paff paff.
“How was I supposed to know what fuel it took?”
“Mystery.”
“Right, because you speak such good Norwegian.”
Paff paff paff.
“You know, I’m pretty sure ‘diesel’ in Norwegian is just ‘diesel’.”
“But it didn’t take diesel, did it?”
“Yes, but by the simple process of elimination you could’ve- you know what? Never mind. It’s done. Let’s just focus on the shelter.”
Paff paff paff.
Paff paff paff.
Paff paff paff.
“Don’t put snow there.”
“Why not?”
“That’s the entrance.’
“It’s tiny.”
“Yeah, we’re gonna crawl in.”
“Great.”
Paff paff paff. Paff paff paff.
“What if the bear comes back? What’s your plan then?”
“I don’t know. Wave? Taste delicious?” Paff paff.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.” Paff paff.
“Really? You’re just going to lay back and get eaten?”
“Well, I mean, if we had a gun, I could-”
“You know how I feel about guns.”
“Strongly enough to die for, apparently.”
“Guns kill people.”
“Well, so do polar bears.”
Paff paff. Silence.
“Alright. Good enough. Get inside.”
“Fine.”
Swish-swish-swish-swish-swish-swish-swish. Pause. Crinkle. Criss-cri-crissk.
“Thanks.”
“Pull it tight, don’t let the heat escape.”
“Toasty.”
“It’s all we’ve got.”
“We look like a baked potato.”
“Good, maybe then the bears won’t eat us.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re carnivorous.”
“…I don’t get it.
“Never mind.”
Silence.
Silence.
“I’m sorry I left the gun.”
“It’s fine.”
“And about the petrol.”
“It’s fine.”
“And for painting your skiddoo white.”
“It’s fine.”
“I just thought it would look nice.”
Silence.
“Did you at least get some good photos?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“The lenscap was on.”
Silence.
“Great.” Crinkle. “Happy Anniversary.”
