Forget those other 36 triumphant moments. This time it's for real. Sure thing. No, really.
The Bear looked in the mirror for the first time in two months. He has turned into a scary grizzly bear. Ursus Horribilis. He has lost as much weight as he does when he hibernates.
Next time, he will avoid chapters that take place on complex terrain, in the middle of the night, with a bunch of people running around doing different things, while poor Bear painstakingly makes sure they all hear the same number and types of gunshots and animals at the same time in their separate narrative timelines while trying to avoid too many flash-forwards and flash-sideways.
The Bear's driver, bodyguard and factotum, Red Death helps. "What about the atomic bomb that is set to go off. You just kind of forgot about that."
"Oh, shoot. You're right. But I don't want an atomic bomb any more. I'll just delete it."
"But I think you've had people talking about it, transporting it, setting it up, and stuff, since Chapter 1."
"No problem. I'll just use Word's find and replace function to change all references to the atomic bomb to 'the cake.'"
"That won't make any sense."
"Neither did the atomic bomb. Why do you think I'm getting rid of it?"
"And, by the way, I don't like the redhead character. I think you're weirdly too fond of her. Kill her off. Now."
"But, sweetheart, she's the eponymous character. I'd have to change the cover art and rewrite the whole thing from scratch. Besides, I just can't. In fact, there's something you need to know."
"Do not tell me you are leaving me for a character you invented."
"She says our marriage isn't valid. We were teenagers. It's a Pygmalion thing. You wouldn't understand."
"How does she get to make this call?"
"I made her a canon lawyer. Not hard. 'The redhead, who was a canon lawyer, sat herself upon the Bear's lap.'"
"This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Tell me. How does this work, I mean running off with your own character?"
"Easy. I wrote myself into my novel. 'And the Bear and the redhead lived happily ever after.' But don't worry. I wrote a happy ending for you, too. 'And Red Death and _____________ lived happily ever after, too.' Just write in whoever."
Red Death snatched the Bear's little MacBook and typed. "There," she said. "Both problems fixed. The Redhead drove the truck with the atomic bomb off the edge of the Grand Canyon, and it exploded, killing her. Red Death and the Bear toast her death and live happily ever after. Got a problem with that?"
Okay. Maybe things are getting a little weird in the attic of Bear Manor, where the Bear now lives and works, surviving on a pawfull of tofu once a day.
The Bear also came up with a name for the penultimate chapter. "Kissology."