Bear v. Shark Read Free Page A

goes to his bedroom, his handsome wife. Through the blinds are those the first rays of a glorious new day? Is that the Life Giver rising yonder in the East? No. It’s just a streetlight. The metallic frames of bedside photographs gleam, but the pictures remain black, inscrutable. Mr. Norman can’t remember the images inside those frames. Probably him, Mrs. Norman, the boys, squinting in sunshine, mouths turned up to resemble smiles.
    Mr. Norman sits on the edge of the mattress, which is really a patented comfort system with microcoils that overlap and interlock like chapters in a novel.
    Mrs. Norman turns in her sleep. She says, “What?”
    Mr. Norman says, “I mean, just think about it.”
    Mrs. Norman says, “You’re here.”
    Mr. Norman says, “Be as honest as you can.”
    Mrs. Norman says, “Right now. Let’s.”
    Mr. Norman says, “Promise?”
    Mrs. Norman used to be such a great water skier. It’s not like she could do fancy tricks, it’s just that she was so graceful and easy on the water. Smiling in the spray.
    She says nothing but sort of moans from the back of her throat. Her head rests on the merest suggestion of a pillow, just the
idea
of a pillow, really, the UnPillow, lost in a standard-size case, wafer thin and neck friendly, eighty-five dollars plus s&h. Mrs. Norman is a disciple of Posture.
    Mr. Norman looks up at the dark ceiling. He says, “I just need to know.”
    Mrs. Norman says, “I’m right over here.”
    Mr. Norman crawls under the comforter, but he’s on top of the lightweight, wrinkle-free sheet and his wife is underneath it and he can’t find her and they toss and wrestle and grunt, while the mattress subtly conforms and adjusts to their marriage. That’s not her breast, it’s her shoulder, and soon she’s mumbling and sleep-breathing again, her patented spinal corset creaking slightly with each breath.
    Mr. Norman in the dark. It’s going to be a big day, a big weekend. If something is wrong, and I’m not saying something is wrong, but if something is wrong, it will be set right this weekend. Won’t it?
    Mr. Norman says, “Honey.”
    The bedside photographs like small broken Televisions.
    Mr. Norman says, “Honey, am I
fun
?”

10
Bear v. Shark: The Question
    The question is simple, as are most profound questions.
    Given a relatively level playing field — i.e., water deep enough so that a Shark could maneuver proficiently, but shallow enough so that a Bear could stand and operate with its characteristic dexterity — who would win in a fight between a Bear and a Shark?

11
Weather Europe
    You should know by now: The Normans of America are going to Las Vegas for The Sequel: Darwin’s Duel, Surf against Turf, Lungs v. Gills in the Neon Desert for All the Marbles.
    Mrs. Norman and the two boys, Matthew and Curtis, are awake. They’re getting ready, it’s pretty exciting.
    Mrs. Norman’s electronic mail message says, “This is going to be fun!” It (the electronic message) says, “Don’t forget to pack underwear and a toothbrush.”
    Mrs. Norman comes downstairs. Her posture is remarkable, it’s something she’s worked on. She says to Mr. Norman, “How was your day?”
    Mr. Norman says, “What?”
    Mrs. Norman says, “Oh.”
    She says, “How did you sleep?”
    Mr. Norman says, “There was an interesting program last night on the Great Wall of China. Turns out it’s technically a hologram. It’s the largest man-made hologram.”
    Mrs. Norman says, “What do you mean by technically?”
    Mr. Norman says, “You mind if I turn up the birds?”
    Mrs. Norman says, “I dreamed that I found a turtle and I knew I had a CD stuck in him but I couldn’t figure out how to get it out. It was so frustrating because I knew the CD was inside there, it was that Mall Sonatas one I like so much. Inside the turtle.”
    Matthew, the older boy, comes downstairs. Colorful sharks circle his pajamas and lunge at fat lazy seals. He has cut off the sleeves, apparently with dull