Bear Dada

matt loves this one..

“Fourscore and seven years ago” the caterpillar began, “all beings were dedicated to the universal notion that every animal is created equal. We were highly resolved in those days to the proposition that the dead did not die in vain, but for the greater good of these woods. That was when,” the caterpillar swayed his body to the right with whip like rhetorical force, “this place was divine.”

“It still is,” said the bear, who had an optimistic disposition and didn’t like anyone running down his home. He yawned, slumped against the tree stump. His bow tie was crooked, his hair matted with leaf bits and broken twigs, and he looked as if he were recovering from another drunken night.

“Don’t interrupt,” the caterpillar said, trying to look as large and as dignified as possible. He gave a speech every day, but could tell that this was going to be a particularly good one. “it is for us, the animated, to be devoted to the work which they who fought on this hallowed ground here have so honorably advanced. For instance, we had in those days a family of fairies who could make a delicious casserole, using nothing but butternuts and tree bark.”

“I’m glad they’re gone,” said the bear, yawning more dramatically, hoping the caterpillar would get the message. All the other animals had already gotten bored and wondered off; only the bear was polite enough to listen. He had a bad reputation, as a rogue and a dandy, but his manners were exquisite. “That fairy, the one who made the rose petal slippers, she was a horrible gossip.”

“Shut up!” shouted the caterpillar. “You’re making me forget what I'm saying.” He glanced down at his crib notes, etched onto an acorn beside him. “Whenever, if ever, we admit we are created by the four winds, our souls shall perish from this earth.”

“Amen” said the bear. “Is that it?”