Friday, 13 November 2009

I knew my TV dinner would get cold, but I couldn't bring myself to go back to the living room. Not while he was there. I was just too... tedious...
I shall explain the backstory to this incident. In fact, you will probably wonder why I didn't start with the backstory, and thus recall events chronologically, thus avoiding confusion. The answer is because it's a literary thing, and I'm not.
3 days ago, I had heard a knock at the door. Answering it, I found a large bear in a suit. After some smalltalk, ("Arrgh, a bear!") it turned out he was new to the area, and wondered if I could direct him to a hotel (for some reason, my neighbours have fled the street, which is why - I assume - he came to me.) Since I hadn't had any zany adventures for a while, I invited him to stay with me for a few days. I assumed it would be interesting. I was wrong.
Now, he was sitting in my living room, shouting abuse at horse racing. This abusive, angry, animated bear in my living room was as far removed from his normal personality as possible. Normally, he would sit in my favourite chair, unmoving, saying nothing. When pushed, I could get a few moments of conversation about rainfall out of him, but nothing more.
I must return though. He's been in that chair for some time, and I still know what he does in the woods.

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