Have A Very Beary Day (Chapter 7: Conquering the Earth, One Bear at a Time)

I caught up to my nephew inside Build-A-Bear, and found he had already infiltrated the sanctity of the checkout counter. What was he doing behind the counter? Nobody goes behind the counter except for specially sanctioned Build-A-Bear personnel. He had no khaki pants, no powder blue square dancing shirt, and no Build-A-Bear Dream Technician nametag, so he stuck out like an extended middle finger.

“Hey Wyatt, what are you doing behind the counter? Get back over here man. These people have a job they actually think they’re doing.”

He looked up at me and acknowledged what I was saying, but then in a brief psychedelic instance of slow motion, I saw the words I had just uttered actually enter in his left ear dancing with good intentions, then exit out the right in a hurried fearful panic. Reason had been excommunicated.

The man behind the counter was a large, big-boned, husky guy, or if he were a woman, society would have unfairy called him a fat chick. He looked like the chubby, mean one from Abbott and Costello, because he had one of those out-of-date-so last-year Hitler moustaches. I felt bad for this guy cause, I mean, shit, he was a middle age guy stuffing bears for a living.

“Hey man, sorry about that. He has a raging case of ADD. His mother is getting him on elephant tranquilizers next week.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it Daddy.”

He then turned to my nephew.

“Hey there buckaroo! Are you ready to have a very beary day? I’m here to make sure all of your dreams come true. Tee-hee!”

OK, I’m not a violent guy, but if all my dreams had come true, that very minute an Amtrak train would have crashed through the walls and we would have been searching for the dental remains of our Dream Technician. What he had just said was wrong for three reasons and I felt like approaching him with the following questions.

First off, why are you assuming I’m the kid’s daddy? Who died and made you Maury Povich? Do I look like Father Knows Best to you? Can’t an uncle take his nephew out to the mall without having to submit to a DNA test to satisfy the curiosity of complete strangers? The kid ain’t my kid G, you got that?

Secondly, what’s up with this “buckaroo” thing? OK sure I give the kid nicknames all the time. But I’m his uncle and I can do that. And the names I give him aren’t dorky. I come up with winners like Captain, Chief, Sporto, Chilly Fresh Kid, Playa Playa, Dawg, Little Man, Tutankhamen, Maestro and sometimes, when the situation fits, even Little Shit and Little Fucker. But Buckaroo? NEVER. Do you think you are on the Howdy Doody Show or something?

And finally, what’s “tee-hee” all about, huh? A guy should never say “tee-hee” to another guy, period. I don’t care of it’s in your script, ad lib if you have to for god’s sake. If you want to giggle like a girl go over to Victoria’s Secret and try on some crotchless panties. From here on out we laugh like this “Haha!” or “Yuk Yuk”. You got it?

Oh yeah and one more thing, does the Fuhrer know you stole his moustache, and does Hee Haw know you raided their wardrobe? That is all.

But I didn’t say these things because, hey, I’m a nice guy. Plus, even though he was a giggly dorkasaurus, he was way bigger than me and could have squashed my onionhead into onion soup mix if he had any kind of temper. So I just grinned and bear-ed it, ba-dum-bum!

“O Felicity, come hither” he sang like Ethel Merman.

I turned around and there before me was an absolute angel, my lady in red. OK, she wasn’t in red, she was wearing the same powder blue square dancing shirt and khaki pants that Husky Hitler was wearing, but let’s just say she filled them out rather nicely, ROWR!

“Felicity, this is Mr. Onionhead and his little buckaroo nephew Wyatt. It’s Wyatt’s birthday and he would like to make himself a special little friend. Do you think you can make all of his dreams come true?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to put a smile on your face” she said to Wyatt in the most Michelle Pfeifferish voice I have ever heard. Damn I wished it were my birthday. If she wanted to put a smile on my face I would be easy. Just take off that square dancing shirt and work bear-breasted (ba-dum-bum) and my special little friend would be fine. She turned to me and stared into my dark, naughty soul.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Onionhead. I feel like we have met somewhere before”

“Um…Um…Um”

Although my response was less than smooth, I did feel like I knew her from somewhere too. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe that outfit was throwing me off, or her ponytail, or those glasses. Damn…Felicity… just didn’t ring a bell.

“Come, follow me,” she said as she took his hand and walked away.

As I was following them I noticed that Build-A-Bear, though on the outside seemed like a very dreamy place with its soothing pastel colors and happy-cracky kiddie music, was actually a dark and sinister den of evil. Hanging up on the walls everywhere were the lifeless skins of baby animals. I could just imagine before the store opened a leathery- faced bounty hunter with a tacky Indiana Jones hat wheeling in a cage full of squealing baby animals. Lions, and Tigers, and Bears, Oh my! Penguins, and Piggies, and Cows, dear lord! Horses, and Gators, and Sheep, for the love of God!

“I got some good ‘uns this time, Boss” he says as he’s gnawing on a stick of beef jerky.

“Oh goodie!” says Husky Hitler. “We can’t make all the children’s dreams come true unless something dies. MUAH-HA-HA!”

“No! No! Please spare us. We are only babies. We want our mommies!!! WAHHHH!!!” cry the helpless voices in the cage.

“SILENCE!!!” screams the bounty hunter. “If you don’t stop that racket I’ll go back and get the rest of your families and I won’t be as compassionate with them as I’m diggin’ their innards out.”

“NOOOOO!!!!”

“Tee-hee!” giggles Husky Hitler.

And with that he pushes the condemned baby animals through the door labeled Employees Only and commences to clubbing each one dead like a baby seal, including the baby seal.

I was so disgusted that I decided, right then and there, that I would become a vegetarian, for the next three hours.

Felicity walked along the wall of skins, like Vanna White showing off each carcass.

“As you can see, there is so much to choose from. Make sure in your heart of hearts you pick the very best one.”

“I want the Tiger!” shouted my nephew pointing at a lion hanging by his under-developed shoulder blades.

“O, you mean this lion over here?” said Felicity as she pulled the hooks out.

“Yea, Yea, Yea the tiger, the tiger!!!!”

“OK, are you sure?”

“YEA YEA YEA !!! THE TIGER! THE TIGER! TIGER! TIGER! TIGER!”

“Are you 100% sure?”

As his uncle this is where I felt the need to step in. She was getting him all worked up over this and I felt like if it continued, an unfortunate poo may be produced, and frankly I was really not in the mood for that again.

“Umm, we’ll take the tiger.” I said.

“Sir, this is a lion. Tigers have stripes”

“I knew that.”

She then led us to what looked like a huge pop corn popper, but instead of a light healthy snack inside, it contained the innards of baby animals, which looked a lot like pillowy fluff to the non nature lover. She opened up a box of little hearts.

“OK now Wyatt. I want you to pick out a heart here for your little friend. This will make him love you forever and ever and ever.”

“COOL!”

He started meticulously looking through the box of hearts, picking each one up and shaking it, and squeezing it, and holding it up toward the light.

“C’mon Wyatt” I pleaded, “they’re all the same.”

“Oh no, Mr. Onionhead, they are certainly not. Each one is very different. He needs to choose carefully.” She said.

“Don’t you think you are taking your job a little too seriously?” I asked her.

“OK this one!” my nephew yelled.

“Oh, that’s a nice one Wyatt. It’s so big and full of love.” She cooed.

Yeah I bet you tell that to all the guys, I thought.

“Ok now Wyatt” she said, “We have to put his voice box somewhere so he can talk to you. We can put it in his left or right front paw or his left or right back paw. When you squeeze it, it will make him roar”

“Hmmmm…” he said as he scratched his head.

“Hey Wyatt,” I said, “Why don’t you put it down here.” And I pointed between the lion’s legs. If there was one area I would roar if someone squeezed real hard it would be down there.

“Umm, I don’t think that’s an approp…”

“Ohh yeah Unco Onionhead, right there is peeeerfect. In his pee-pee.” he said interrupting her.

Over-ruled.

With that, she placed the voice box in his nether region and inserted the back of our tiger into the popcorn popper.

“OK, now I’m gonna step on this pedal here and start filling him up with stuffing. When you think he has enough I want you to let me know OK?”

“TIGER! TIGER! TIGER!”

“I’ll take that as a yes” she said and bent over and started filling the beast up.

After a minute or so she pulled it off the popper hose and started hugging it and handed it to my nephew.

“MMMM, that’s nice and soft, do you want we to make it harder?”

Why doesn’t she ask me these questions?!? YES! YES! YES! Make it harder!

“No” my nephew said emphatically. “It’s perfect!”

Amateur.

Felicity then directed us to a computer area.

“Now you need to name your little friend.” she said.

“I call mine Excalibur.” I revealed.

“I’ll make a note of it.” she rebutted and walked off to unintentionally seduce another dad, uncle or brother. Where did I know her from, where, where, where?

“OK Wyatt, we need to make a birth certificate for your pal here.” I said as I scanned over the computer instructions. “What do you want to name him?”

“How about Certificate?”

“Listen dude. Certificate is not a name for a lion. It’s not a name for anything. Try something different.”

“How ‘bout Dude!”

My nephew was obviously lacking in the creativity department, but I wasn’t about to get into a philosophical debate with a 6 year old over what to name his stuffed pal. So Dude it was. I printed out Dude’s birth certificate and handed it to Wyatt.

“Here you go pimp daddy. Let’s Box Dude up and get outta here.”

“But Unco Onionhead, he’s naked. We need to get him some kawose.”

I looked at the price tag on Dude’s paw, and he was only worth 25 bucks. Since my card was for $50 I figured what the hell.

“You know Wyatt, you are right. He can’t be walking around with no clothes on. This ain’t France.”

“Yeah this ain’t Fwance, haha!”

So we walked into the wardrobe section, which was bigger than most men’s departments I go too. I sat over at a “changing table” and gazed at Felicity from afar as my nephew started picking out attire for Dude. Where did I know her from? It was bugging me to the point that I couldn’t think about anything else, not even hot snacks.

“OK Unco Onionhead, I’m done.”

I looked over at the changing table and I saw no nephew, but I did see about a 3-foot mountain of clothes and shoes piled up. Holy Imelda Marcos Batman!

“Umm Wyatt, I don’t know how you think I’m living these days but I cant afford all this stuff. You’re gonna have to put some of this back.”

“Noooooo, he needs it.”

I started picking through Dude’s pile of needs.

“Ok what about this spacesuit. What does he need that for?”

“To fwy in space”

Ask a dumb question, get a dumb answer.

“OK what about these roller skates? I hate to break this to you pal, but lions don’t roller skate.”

“I know but tigers do”

Ask a good question, get a dumb answer.

“Alright, what about this Spiderman outfit?”

“That’s his twick or tweet costume.”

Of course, how silly of me.

“Ten pairs of shoes Wyatt. TEN. I only have four pairs of shoes.”

“Oh, you should get some while we here. I can pick some out for you”

“No thanks. OK now what’s with the construction worker outfit, the Indian costume, and the cowboy gear. Is Dude trying out for the Village People?”

“Yup.”

There was no reasoning with him so I just started picking stuff up and putting it back on the shelves. I did this for several minutes but the pile was still there, in fact it seemed like it was getting bigger. WTF? And why was he so quiet and where the hell was he? I looked over the pile and there he was working like an industrious army ant. For every one thing I put back he was replacing it with three more things.

“Hey, I see what you are doing over there. Stop it right now, you hear me?”

“NO YOU STOP IT!”

“NO YOU STOP IT, I’m in charge here and when I tell you to stop, you stop.”

“You’re a big DOO DOO HEAD.”

“What? A DOO DOO HEAD? O yeah well you’re a little FARTMONGER.”

This exchange would have gone on for hours, except Husky Hitler came over to break it up as we were disturbing the peace with our potty mouths.

“Boys, boys, Please! No more fighting. Build-A-Bear is a happy place.” He turned to my nephew. “Now little buckaroo, I want you to tell me why you are upset.”

“Um,Um,Um I picked out all these cool kawose for Dude and he’s making me put it all back.”

He next turned to me. “And sir, what is your side of the story?”

“Um, Um, Um, I can’t afford all this stuff, and he called me a doo doo head!”

He turned back to Wyatt. “Now Wyatt you shouldn’t call your uncle a doo doo head. That’s not a very beary thing to do.”

“I’m sowwy” he said as I stuck my tongue out at him to add insult to injury.

“Now I think what we need here is a compromise. Now uncle, you need to tell the little buckaroo how many outfits he can pick out, and Wyatt you need to stick to that number, no more than what he tells you, OK?”

We both nodded in agreement and shook on it to seal the deal. As he was picking out the outfits I started talking to HH about his store.

“This place is a real cash cow isn’t it?”

“I can’t complain. We do well here.” He replied modestly.

“I bet. The kids want the power to make their own bear. So you lure slackers like myself in here under false pretense with your guilt-free gift certificates. The kids of course want more than just the bear, and Build-A-Bear is more than happy to comply by making a billion different outfits, accessories, and costumes, thus the challenge of keeping the bear in current fashions becomes a lifetime monetary commitment. It’s brilliant, even more so than Pokeman. In fact, it’s deliciously evil.”

“You seem to have figured out our little plan.” He snickered.

“And what plan would that be?”

“Our plan for world domination, you silly goose. Conquering the earth, one bear at a time. MUAH HA HA!” he said as he shook with a sinister giggle.

“That’s disturbing” I said “But not as disturbing as a little bear S & M outfit would be. I’m glad you guys draw the line somewhere.”

“Oh those outfits are in the back room.” He said perking up. “It even comes with a bull whip and leather chaps. I can take you back there for a personal tour if you like. Tee-hee!”

CONVERSATION OVER

Wyatt picked out six outfits for Dude. The Spiderman Halloween costume, a hockey uniform with goalie mask, a construction worker getup with hard-hat for safety, the roller derby outfit with glittery disco skates, a rapper outfit with official Rocawear hoodie, and a showgirl costume completed with a sequined dress and feather boa. Oh, and a baby stroller for transportation. All that junk would cost me an extra $75, but it was well worth it to get out of this place.

We got to the register and Felicity was there all perky and bubbly like she was when we first met her.

“Oh Wyatt, I would have picked the exact same outfits. You did a wonderful job and you have impeccable taste for a young man.”

“Tank You” he said, aww shucksing and blushing. “You’re pretty, can I have a hug?”

She came around the corner and bent over and gave him a very beary hug I must say. Damn it, it really is that easy for him. That kid was certainly not afraid of getting cooties like I was when I was his age. Perhaps he was vaccinated. I looked forward to the day when he was my age, and the cuteness factor was long-gone. Then let’s see how many buxomous women give you hugs you lucky shit.

Build-A-Bear was definitely a money-sucking pit of evil, but Felicity was without a doubt a bright shimmery star in this stinky cesspool of capitalism. She was kind, sincere, helpful, and let’s not forget super hot. I felt like she deserved a little extra for making our trip to Build-A-Bear a little more bearable. So I took out a five-dollar bill and handed it to her.

“Felicity, I know you are not supposed to take this, but I just want to thank you for all you have done to make this a special day for Wyatt. It means a lot to me, and I know it means a lot to him. So thank you so much.”

“Oh isn’t that sweet” she said. She took the five-dollar bill and folded it lengthwise and then in half, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her square dancing shirt and placed the bill in between the jiggily twins. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. NIPPLEONIA!!! From the strip club, errr I mean gentleman’s club, of course! She did that dance routine with the spark plugs and the Motley Crue song. How could I forget??

“Hey, I know you!” I shouted.

She just winked at me and pointed out toward the store entrance where my nephew had taken off with Dude in the stroller at a high rate of speed. Shit. SHIT! I grabbed all the bags of clothes and took off running after him. How could he? I waited there patiently while he picked out all those dumb outfits and he couldn’t wait two seconds for his sexually frustrated uncle to hook up with the most bootylicious rump shaker in town.

When I finally caught up to him, all panting and sweaty, I stopped him and Dude in their tracks.

“Wyatt, why did you take off running like that? Couldn’t you see I was talking to Felicity?”

“You want her to be your giiiiiiirlfriend, hahahaha!”

“Now I don’t! I just want to, you know, hang out with her for a few hours. Ok maybe ten or fifteen minutes tops. AHHHHH, what do you know?”

“I’m sorry Unco Onionhead. Dude told me to do it. He wanted to go weally fast in his stwolla. I told him no but he didn’t listen. Do you want me to put him in timeout?”

“No, that’s not really necessary.” I said, but it was too late. He was already lecturing dude for his reckless behavior. He took him out of the stroller and started spanking him.

“You listen to me, I’m the adult and I’m in charge. When I tell you to stop, you stop. Is that cweer?”

Poor Dude. I could already see he would have a hard life. My nephew would blame him for anything and everything he did bad. He would be punched, spanked, stepped on, thrown against the wall, and lectured every time he fucked up, which would be like twenty times a day. I bet poor Dude was wishing he was never stuffed and was still hanging on those hooks looking at Sweet Felicity. O well my furry friend, life’s a bitch sometimes. I’d hate to be you.

When we finally got back to my sister’s house it was already dark. I looked in the backseat and my nephew was sound asleep cuddling with his new best pal. I picked him up and threw him over one shoulder and put Dude over the other and walked inside. My sister and her husband were watching the local news

“Hey y’all, were back, what’s going on?”

“The principal at our school was arrested at the mall,” my sister said. “You guys were there, did you see any of this?”

I looked at the TV screen and there was a scowling mugshot of Principal Pissypants. Seconds later they showed pictures of our old friends Officer Steve and Officer Bob. They both were bloodied up with black eyes, and looked as if an angry gorilla had mauled them. My sister turned the volume up on the TV.

“There was complete melee at a local mall today when a woman suspected of shoplifting at a Victoria’s Secret store was approached my by two mall officers. When asked to open her bags, the woman assaulted the two men and flipped over their police scooter. A SWAT team was called in and it took ten men to subdue the suspect. The woman has been secured in the county jail and charges are pending.”

Holy shit! Sweet, I guess I don’t have to worry about Principal Pissypants for a long, long time. Funny how things work out some time.

“Nah, I guess we missed it. Must have gotten caught up in the moment.” I said. I handed my nephew, who was still sound asleep all tuckered out, over to my brother-in-law. Suddenly from around the corner, my 8-year old niece, Kaitlyn, approached in her Powder-Puff Girls footie pajamas.

“Master Onionhead. I see you have decided to answer my challenge. I have longed for this chance for revenge. You have humiliated me and brought shame on this house. Tonight you will pay the ultimate price.”

“Ahh, Crouching Platypus. Your thirst for punishment is admirable. But tonight I will finish you off for good. May your end be swift and painful.”

“So it is written, and so it shall be done.”

We both went to the kitchen table and she pulled out the Spongebob Uno cards. Why on earth she thought she could beat me in this game was a mystery. This was my game. I was the master. We decided to make the game more interesting by placing a little wager on the outcome. If I won she would have to wash, wax, detail, and change the oil in my car. If she won, it would be a surprise, she would tell me later. I wasn’t worried about it because I never lose at Spongebob Uno, never. That was until today. I was way ahead as usual and even had UNO, but she slapped a Draw 2, two Draw 4’s, and a Super Absorbency on my sorry ass. I needed a green or an 8. But I drew a Blue 4, Blue 3, Yellow 5, Yellow 7, Yellow 9, Blue 2, and Red 5. I never recovered after that. She went right for my jugular and finished me off a few minutes later. If I had a tail, it would have been between my legs.

“Alright, what do I owe you? Ice cream, a movie, just tell me now.”

“Follow me this way Uncle Onionhead.”

I followed her, skipping just as she instructed me, into her room. There before us, lying on the table, were Cutesy the Horse and Mopsy the Rabbit, in the buck, nekkid in their Build-A-Bear birthday suits.

“Uncle Onionhead, Cutesy and Mopsy have a big day ahead. But they need a little help with their outfits tomorrow. That’s where you come in.”

“Kaitlyn, can’t we just go roller skating or something?”

“NO. A deal is a deal. I beat you fair and square.”

“OK, let’s get this over with.” I said as I reached for one of the dorky outfits.

“No, no ,no. They need their panties on first.” She handed be a bin of miniature satin panties. I started putting the rabbit and pony in their panties and was thinking to myself, can this get any more humiliating? Just then I saw a flash. It was my sister with her camera, who just froze that moment in time for the entire world to see.

“Thanks Onionhead, now I have a great picture for the family Christmas cards next year. Hahahahahahaha!”

How could she? If this day could get any worse I would have been floored.

“Hey Unco Onionhead!”

Oh no, he was back from the dead. And with Dude in tow, wearing his construction uniform with hard-hat. I started heading for the door.

“Dude pooped in his pants and needs to be changed.” He said.

“Well, maybe your mommy or daddy can help you with that, cause I’m out!”

“No Unco Onionhead. You need to change him right now!”

“Umm, I don’t think so”

“YES YOU WILL!”

“NO I WON’T!!!”

And with that he swung Dude and his hard hat at me with such force at my nether region, it medically guaranteed I would never have kids unless they were sun-brewed in a test tube.

“ROAR!!!!!” I screamed so loud I must have woke all the neighbors up within five square miles. I saw little birdies flying around my big onionhead like vultures going in for the scraps.

I limped to my car like the hunchback of Notre Dame. My sister tried to call out to me to make sure I was OK, but I just brushed her off. I got inside the car, sped off, and never looked back. Despite the unbearable pain, as I drove back to my house I was smiling. The buttprint on my couch, a fridge full of beer, and late night cable TV were waiting, and this very beary day was finally over.