". . . Harry ever tell you about the time they tried to take her in a bar?"
"Take who in a bar?"
"Man, get Harry in it. The guy checkin' her ID asked her how old she was. She says, 'Twenty-one.' Hell, the guy laughed. He knew she wudn't any twenty-one."
John hated to think anybody laughed at Harry. It was easy to do. "Sure would pay to be a polar bear," he said. "Dave got lost looking for her place, and she's believing I'm going to get lost."
"What's bein' a polar bear go to do with it?" Mel asked.
"I was reading about 'em."
Mel eyed John, slouched in his chair.
"These scientists were tracking a bunch of polar bears and trying to find out what they do during the mating season."
"A lot of humpin' is what they do."
"They wanted to see how far the bears went before they found one another."
"How far they went?"
"Yeah, after they stop eating and sleeping. They're fighting so much of the time; by the time they reach the place, their coats are hanging on 'em loose. Some of 'em don't
even make it."
"Goddam," Mel exclaimed bitterly. "Maybe they can't even get it up now."
"It's tough, no joke. When they finish, they go back to hunting seals and living a normal life."
"It sounds like a pain-in-the-ass life to me," Mel said. "Damn if that dudn't kill the joy of livin'." He shook his head in a feigned lament. "It can't be too awful terrible being a
bear. He's got fur to cover his member. Dudn't he get to mess around?"
"I doubt it."
"Buddy, people are goin' to believe you've got religion. You're interested in churches; stands to reason." Mel held his cigarette near the floor and flicked ashes on the rug."You got to mess around some," he said. "It's how you find the right bear."
"How serious are you being, Mel?"
"You ought to live more," Mel said simply.
