The Cast Iron Pan

Lindsay picks up the cast iron frying pan with both hands, surprised by its weight. Nevertheless, she perseveres.
“Take one step closer, and I’ll hit you!”

The bear stands there on its two hind feet, its brow furrowed (as much as a bear can furrow its brow) at Lindsay’s threat. It opens its mouth wide, revealing sharp, sparkly white teeth.

“Rar?” it replies, its breathing amplified through the kitchen.

Lindsay looks up at the towering bear. I never thought I’d look up to a bear, she thinks to herself. Its claws are sharp like the knife in the sink. The bear’s scent overpowers the room—a mix of wet dog, skunk, damp earth, and fish. Lindsay plugs her nose. She cautiously steps back, practically tiptoeing, yet her heels touch the ground. I really wish I was wearing shoes. Practical shoes, like sneakers.

The bear continues to look at her, then goes down on all fours. Lindsay realizes she’s backed herself up against the counter. Can I reach the knife? Could I stab it without it mauling me first? No, the frying pan has more power. I have more of a chance.

She says aloud, “I am going to sidle slowly to the side here,” then mutters quietly, then if I can just get to the edge… I think I can make a run for the door.

The frying pan is heavy, tiring her arm, but Lindsay doesn’t notice. The bear takes a step toward her, huffs, and Lindsay gasps. She scrunches up her face and takes a deep breath—two, three, four, hold, two, three, four—and releases, blowing out a forest fire. The bear cocks its head curiously, then sits on its haunches.

Why does that bear look so freaking relaxed? Lindsay wonders. She lifts the frying pan again, first over her left shoulder, then switches to the right. That’s better. Her cell phone vibrates loudly on the counter, like an infestation of cicadas trapped in a metal chimney pipe. Lindsay jumps and lets out a small scream.

The bear says, annoyed, “Rar.”

Lindsay suddenly makes herself big and towering. She’ll stare the bear down—she read that’s what you’re supposed to do with a wild animal. The bear stands up on all fours again. Lindsay shrinks down, cowering. The bear looks at her; she bites her lip. It turns around, and she watches it closely, tightening her grip. The bear walks over to the door. Lindsay suddenly drops the cast iron pan on the floor with a crash!

The bear turns to look at the disturbance. Lindsay looks on in horror and quickly picks the pan up. The bear scratches at the door to go out.

How can I let the bear out?

The bear looks at her, sits down again to wait, and says, “Rar,” then lies down and falls asleep.

This is Lindsay’s lucky day. She snatches her cell phone and runs out the door with the phone and cast iron pan in hand. She dashes outside and, once safely away, collapses on the ground, holding the pan tightly.

She shouts, “Thank god for cast iron pans!” She gives the pan a big, loud kiss and holds it tight. Shaking, she says, “That’s it, I’m selling the house and moving to the city.” She takes a big breath and says, “Siri, call 911.”