That incident was soon forgotten after he showed up to a dinner party riding a bear. At some point he decided the bear wasn’t going fast enough (if you’re looking for speed, maybe ride a horse) and kicked it. It objected to this and tore a chunk out of his calf. To be fair to John, ‘please call a doctor, this fucking bear I rode here has eaten a part of my leg’ is a hell of an entrance to a dinner party. There would be no awkward pauses in polite conversation that couldn’t be filled with ‘so I rode a bear here and the bastard ate me before I could park’.
