**A full tray of lasagna. One bear. **

I've eaten worse odds before. But it was hot. Hot like the kitchen was personally holding a grudge. And somewhere around the point of no return, the lasagna stopped being food and started being a negotiation, one I was slowly losing.

Keep an eye on the shirt. Dark blue when we started. By the end it's two very different shades of blue, and neither of them was my idea. You can watch the sweat redraw it in real time, section by section, like a map of exactly how much effort this was costing me.

So no, I didn't finish. I got close. Close enough to be annoyed about it. Because that's the part nobody posts: even a hungry bear has off days. Sometimes the belly says yes and the room says absolutely not.

But I don't like leaving you empty-handed. So I made it up to you at the end: that same shirt, the one that spent twenty minutes soaking up my failure, doesn't survive the video. It stretches, it strains, and then it stops being a shirt. Consider it compensation. Consider it revenge.

One of us was going to break today. It just wasn't going to be me twice.