There was a period back in 80's when I boxed. I was the champion of all the land (in my mind at least). People were always down on my dream of becoming a champion bear, saying things like, "You are too old," or "You are too fat," or "I don't like you," or "Your teeth are so crooked it'd be great if you got punched in the mouth to straighten those suckers up" or "I hope you get knocked out because you deserve it for being such a terrible bear."
These things stuck with me, and fueled my fire. Fueling my fire was a good thing in many ways, as it was a cheap and affordable energy that I could use to not only heat my home but light my cigarettes.
People in the boxing business noticed my amazing skills, and dubbed me, "Great white bear who smokes a lot." I was truly flattered. And then I got flattened. Flattened by another bear, no less!
Gosh, the memories are just rushing back, searing my veins and bringing tears to my eyes... I want, I want to talk about this tragic fight, but the loss to this other bear, the memories still rumble through my brain and make me sink into the deepest of bear depressions.
The good thing about being a bear is that during these bouts of sadness I can go off and hibernate. Hibernating is very therapeutic, even for bears who are down and out on their luck!
