Richard held the flashlight unsteadily in front of him as he walked. The boards creaked underfoot. He directed the flashlight beam at the darkest corners of the attic, hoping to find them as empty as they were supposed to be. This attic was strange: it was narrow but had twists and turns, and would sometimes switch back on itself, almost as if it were a maze. He turned the corners warily, half expecting something to be lying in wait behind each one. Finally he reached a dead end. As he moved his flashlight across the wall his heart skipped a beat and he stifled a yelp; there was a chair against the far wall.
Richard's soul filled with dread as he trained his flashlight, hands shaking, on the malevolent piece of furniture. The well-polished wood shone with malice, and the flower-patterned back seemed to him to be twisted into an evil sneer. Suddenly his fear was replaced by indignation. What kind of a fool did the chair think he was? Every middle-schooler knew that chairs had been illegal for almost 25 years now. It was obvious what was going on here.
"You think you can fool me?!" Richard asked the chair, incredulously.
"You disguise yourself well," continued Richard, gaining courage with every word, "but I know what you really are; a black bear!"
Without giving the chair time to deny this allegation, he jumped forward, heaving his heavy Mag-Lite above his head and bringing it down on one of the sinister furnishing's legs, before winding up and smashing downward on the seat, which snapped in two, bringing the entire beast down with it.
Panting, he regarded his slain foe. It still looked for all the world like a chair, albeit now a broken one. He had heard that black bears were masters of disguise, but he doubted that they could disguise themselves after death. Before he could stop himself a deafening laugh burst from his lungs.
As he continued to laugh, he remembered he hadn't paid much attention in middle school. Perhaps he had misheard his teacher when he was talking about black bears and their common disguises. Perhaps he had only been talking about quadratic equations again. Come to think of it, were chairs even illegal? He was fairly certain he owned several himself. Maybe it was only fully automatic chairs that were illegal. His chairs were all semiautomatic.
"Catherine! Catherine, it's all clear! Come up!" He shouted loudly enough that he could be heard downstairs.
Catherine rounded the corner to join him.
"Catherine, you'll never believe what just happened-- I was convinced that chair over there was going to maul me!" he said, between guffaws. He turned to face Catherine, and was struck all over again with how beautiful she was. Her black hair had a pleasant shine to it, her deep, dark eyes drew him in, and her exceptionally large jaw hinge, leathery paws, and sharp, curved foreclaws capable of piercing the soft vital areas of her prey were a sight to behold.
"Catherine," he said suddenly, "I love you." How long had it been since he had said those words last? They had been married for eight years now, and he sometimes forgot to remind them both of this fact.
"Grrraaaaaawwwwwwrrrhhhhhhhh," replied Catherine.
Catherine had a sore throat, Richard remembered. She always seemed to have a sore throat, so he always just imagined what she was probably saying. "Why thank you, Catherine, I also think that I am spectacular at everything I attempt and have essentially no faults," agreed Richard.
Suddenly he sensed movement behind him. He whirled around in time to see part of the wall detach itself from the rest of the wall and begin walking towards him. "Grraaaawwwhhhhhhrrrrr," intoned the figure. It was a bear. His blood ran cold.
He was about to shout for Catherine to save herself, but suddenly he felt a claw close around his ankle. He looked down to see that the ground he was standing on was not ground at all, but rather a bear. In fact, upon closer inspection, all of the ground around him was also bears. "Grawwrrhhhhhhh," growled several of the floor-bears at once. He wondered if the floor had a sore throat too. He didn't have time to dwell on that thought, though. As he struggled to get free of the floor-bear's grip he grabbed the wall to steady himself, but suddenly pulled his hand back with a gasp as he realized the wall too was bears, one of whom bit the air where his hand had been a second ago. He was suddenly aware that the whole room was bears, and the walls and the ceiling and the floor were all masses of hairy, toothy bears, all growling and gnashing their teeth. He turned to Catherine to exchange last words but she too was advancing on him.
He flashed back to times they had been together, when he might have realized what she was if he had paid more attention. Maybe he should have realized when she started sustaining herself on a diet of insects such as bees, yellow jackets, ants, and their larvae. Maybe he should have realized when his friends pointed at her and said "that's a bear". Or maybe he should have realized even farther back, on their wedding day, when she mauled him and several of his family members. He had just chalked it up to cultural differences; he had heard that her parents were Swedish.
As the bears closed in around him he tried to make sense of the situation. His house was bears. His wife was bears. Was it possible everything was bears? Was he bears? Had science gone too far?
"CURSE YOU, SCIENCE!!!" he roared at the heavens, as the bears surrounded him and his vision faded to black.
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