They’re out there, sitting outside my office window. They’re lying in wait. They’re waiting for their most opportune moment to strike. As I sit at my desk they hide away in the bushes. They’ve painted their furry brown coats with army camoflage spray and I can see them breathing. As I write this a dark cloud has formed overhead in the sky which means only one thing; The bears outside are harnessing the dark forces in the universe to unleash upon me the moment I’m freed from the shackles of work that tie me to my desk, forcing me to work hour after hour day after day. Although it’s nothing compared to the dark powers that the bears outside will use against me.

But where did all this violence stem from?

Once upon a time in a… time a few years ago, I was younger. No really. Honestly. I used to be a child. And one night when I was scurrying around the house on my little tiny legs I stumbled across a horror so horrific that it was horrifying!

Someone had stolen a cookie from the cookie jar! But not just any person. Or any cookie either. A bear had stolen the last cookie from the cookie jar.

So I went outside and stole the bear.

Suffice to say the mommy bear and the daddy bear weren’t very happy. I tried to use my powers of reasoning and understanding from the knowledge I had gained from books such as “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” but in trying to do so, I learnt something I had never known before; The author lied.

It’s true! No amount of porridge could protect me from the bears outside. Whoever wrote that book must have been dealing with tamed, zoo bears because the bears outside aren’t so civilized. They just didn’t like the porridge. Neither do I to be honest. They swept it out of my hand and threw it back in my face. I’m beginning to think that they may perhaps have possibly grasped the concept of irony. But I’m not sure, because I haven’t.

One fateful afternoon I looked out my window to see that they were holding my white cuddly lion (aptly named “Lion-o” after the character of the same name in Thundercats) hostage. Afraid, my legs shaking, I stepped out into the world outside (a place I was not very familiar with, partly as a result of Thundercats and a minor childhood addiction thereof). My cuddly lion did nothing to defend himself from the bears outside which leads me to think that the bears had drugged him.

They’re smart, they’re cunning, and they have drugs. They’re dangerous and will stop at nothing.

So, trembling in fear, I shuffled forward. They suddenly surrounded me and I was deafened by their growls and roars. It turns out that all they wanted was their bear back except, there was one tiny little problem…

I was so desperate for my cookie back that I couldn’t wait any longer. I thought long and hard about the location of the cookie which the bear had just eaten. I had two options;

1. Wait for him to poop it out, or
2. Perform major surgery and retrieve the cookie myself.

One thing that I was sure of was that, whilst I enjoy chocolate chip cookies, I didn’t want to eat a bear-poop-covered one. I also couldn’t perform any surgery because at that age all my knives were plastic.

So I ate him.

That’s kinda where the big problems started. I figured that with the cookie inside him and him inside me that he may be digestible and release the cookie whilst in my stomach. Unfortunately, the bears also thought along the same lines and so now after all these years they’ve been after me in the hope that by eating me I might release the little bear inside me.

I don’t think they understand that I’ve most probably pooped him out by now.

So surrounded, I looked for the biggest, meanest bear of them all and tried to stare him in the eye. Unfortunately that wasn’t as easy as I had originally planned because just moments before I did so, they grabbed me, tied me upside down to a tree and put a bag over my face before hanging a sign of my legs that said “I molest trees”.

They’re so organised.

They then started chanting in a way I’d never heard before and it wasn’t long before a herd of hippies came running at me. The bears had laid a trap and were just waiting for me to pay the price before finishing me off themselves. But fortunately their plan was foiled because the hippies took it upon themselves to explain to me the concepts of making love to people instead of making war… or making love to the local wildlife.

The bears were foiled that time, but every day I live in fear, knowing that they’re planning something bigger, more cunning, more dangerous and more likely to make me wet myself as I tremble before them. Every time I look out my window, I know that somewhere out there in that big old crazy world of ours, they’re there.

And they know I’m here.

So they sit. And they wait. Their teeth sharpened, their claws ready. Waiting. Just waiting. Just for that one opportunity to lunge out and claw my stomach right open and rip out my intestines before decapitating me and taking turns to bite me whilst I’m still alive. My question though is, what happens when they realise that baby bear isn’t in my tummy anymore?

I’m scared of the bears outside…

This entry was posted on Monday, June 19th, 2006 at 3:21 pm and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.