Hehehe...
I was four... I don't think bear-wrestling would've been something I was particularly good at. >.<
And I don't recall having been armed. The most I ever did with knives for a long time was, once in a while, I'd use a kitchen knife for something minor... and it was a bit later that I grew an aversion towards guns. (My dad held it for me, and I pulled the trigger... and got a bullet shell in my eye... story that's already been told.)
But, yeah... I've noted it a couple times, but I've yet to say anything about it (I intended to...): the story was flawed... my sister was there, when we ran to look out a window, but we looked out it, later, to try to see if the bear was still there. She also asked what was going on, and I answered her like that... but, it was afterwards... I went to look out the window, after Mom threw me in, too, but I was alone. I mistold the timeframe, and where my sister was, and all...
Meh... silly memory...
But, yeah... instead of doing anything with the sandwhich, I just stared at the bear, and said, "Mom, there's a bear." repetitively, as I said...
