Bears and explosions: Everything a zoo should be.You leap the hurdle blocking the entrance to the park and, to the startled cries of onlookers, you jump the barrier to the Sun-Bear exhibit and duck through the maintenance door. A surprised young Native American man in a beige jumpsuit quickly tucks something behind his back. "It's cool, man," you assure him, "I'm cool." You make a Fonzie double-thumbs up gesture, because that is cool. "The fuck you doin' here, man?" He's still hiding something behind his back, and you subtly try to maneuver yourself around him to get a better view. He seems perturbed by your incessant circling. "Hiding from a giant Eskimo and an immense pile of a woman," you reply. Behind his back you make out the telltale signs of an illicit substance: a brown paper bag wrapped about a non-descript bottle. "Whatcha got there?" You inquire. "This? This is uh..." he eyeballs you suspiciously for a minute, but a few more mimed Fonzie gestures seem to set him at ease, "man, you're already fucked up! Haha! Okay, this is a little mix I made up for the days I gotta clean the bear cages."
If you want to get messed up with a strange Indian in the back room of the Sun-Bear enclosure, turn to page 4.
If you want to get really messed up with a strange Indian in the back room of the Sun-Bear enclosure, turn to page 5.
PAGE 4You and Alex the Indian take turns hitting the bottle and sharing long-winded anecdotes about how bosses suck. As the hours pass, you find yourself bonding with this mysterious and fascinating man. He tells you that he likes to "get online and look at titties," and you agree wholeheartedly. You give him your email address, and later you become fast friends. Throughout the years this friendship allows to assuage your white guilt by telling everybody that your "best friend is a Native American." Your heart will later be broken when you learn he is actually Puerto Rican.
Hittin' it Sun-Bear style."Can I hit that?" You ask, though you have already wrestled the bottle from his hand and have been drinking deeply for several minutes. "Shit! No! Not so much!" He jumps at you, but you deftly avoid him by falling over sideways, "You drank the whole fucking thing? This is peyote tea, man. You are fucked. You're so fucked..." "I can handle my shit," you inform him, flopping on the ground like an epileptic fish, "I'm a shit-handler!" "Fuck. Whatever. Listen, I guess you can hide out here for a while, but if anybody finds you, I don't know you. Alright? I gotta get back to work..." He closes the door softly after him, and that is the last sound you hear before the darkness overwhelms you. You awake to a complete absence of light and stumble about the room, trying to recall where you are. There are colors in the blackness. But they are soft and slippery. They distract you for several minutes. Why do your color-friends avoid you? Eventually, you find the door and stagger out into the park. It is night-time; the zoo is closed and long since empty. But there are animals here still, and you instinctively feel that you "understand" them now. You are part of the animal world, after all, and all animals are one, aren't they? Yes, you decide. Yes they are. And this is fucking adventure time.