Has anybody else ever run out of polyester Bear stuffing in the middle of the night? This is terrible. The left leg of Bear number sixty-seven is too thin because I had to push half of its muscle power into his lopsided belly, and now I can’t close him up because I have no more stuffing. I have hunted through the pile of bags in the spare room – nothing.
Am I addicted to Bear making? It feels like an addiction when breathing speeds up and outrage over lack of stuffing makes me pace the living room floor. If I smoked I would go to an all-night convenience store to fill the need. Unfortunately there are no all-night polyester stuffing stores. And no substitutes. I guess batting won’t do. Who wants a layered Bear? I have no horsehair in the house. Oops, I guess that was used in the “olden days” to fill mattresses, not Bears. What about cotton balls? I think they clump. I could slice a pillow open. My down comforter?
It is now one thirty in the morning and I have obsessed over this way too long. As a last resort I could steal stuffing from Bear number sixty-eight’s head, but that might make his eyes cave in and his mouth pucker up. I could use some of the snipped-off yarn ends that I have saved to prove a point. I forgot what the point was, but I would hate to have pink or lime green pieces eventually work themselves out of a rainbow Bear. No need to confuse a child with neon-bright fake polyester.
Go to bed I say, and shop for a bag of stuffing in the morning. Bear sixty-six is patiently standing by, waiting to be featured in a yet to be written story. I think I’ll just post the photo of him coming out of the red overland truck. Now there’s a substitute if I’ve ever seen one. The truck is an old Barbie bus that I picked up at a garage sale for a dollar, spray-painted it, and used it in a Christmas display a few years back. It is full of tiny dolls and ornaments and miniature dishes, all of which I had to take out to make an attempt to squeeze a couple of sleepy Bears into it. But I like the way it looks and shooting it from overhead almost works. It's all make-believe anyway. Only the Bears are real. At least the ones that are properly stuffed.
Am I addicted to Bear making? It feels like an addiction when breathing speeds up and outrage over lack of stuffing makes me pace the living room floor. If I smoked I would go to an all-night convenience store to fill the need. Unfortunately there are no all-night polyester stuffing stores. And no substitutes. I guess batting won’t do. Who wants a layered Bear? I have no horsehair in the house. Oops, I guess that was used in the “olden days” to fill mattresses, not Bears. What about cotton balls? I think they clump. I could slice a pillow open. My down comforter?
It is now one thirty in the morning and I have obsessed over this way too long. As a last resort I could steal stuffing from Bear number sixty-eight’s head, but that might make his eyes cave in and his mouth pucker up. I could use some of the snipped-off yarn ends that I have saved to prove a point. I forgot what the point was, but I would hate to have pink or lime green pieces eventually work themselves out of a rainbow Bear. No need to confuse a child with neon-bright fake polyester.
Go to bed I say, and shop for a bag of stuffing in the morning. Bear sixty-six is patiently standing by, waiting to be featured in a yet to be written story. I think I’ll just post the photo of him coming out of the red overland truck. Now there’s a substitute if I’ve ever seen one. The truck is an old Barbie bus that I picked up at a garage sale for a dollar, spray-painted it, and used it in a Christmas display a few years back. It is full of tiny dolls and ornaments and miniature dishes, all of which I had to take out to make an attempt to squeeze a couple of sleepy Bears into it. But I like the way it looks and shooting it from overhead almost works. It's all make-believe anyway. Only the Bears are real. At least the ones that are properly stuffed.
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