The (sinister?) mystery of the two Langley bears

Lest you think there’s no news worth reporting in Langley, today’s local paper carried a letter to the editor describing the disappearance and return of two teddy bears.

What the hell does it mean? I wondered. Which bears does the writer mean?

Seriously, I wondered if my friend Scarybear had been getting into someone’s garbage again. A picnic bear like Scary has just as much trouble staying away from old watermelon rinds as I do keeping away from the empties. Had this writer spotted some foraging grizzlies? I wondered? And felt affection for them? Could you feel affection for Scary?

And what next? Would someone be writing to the editor about spotting a diminutive, mangy light tan bear rooting through the beer cans outside their house? It could happen…especially since my mum finished the gin.

Turns out the letter’s subjects are more similar to Scary and me than I’d imagined. A couple of years ago Gayle Brown noticed a teddy bear sitting on a stump by a North Langley ravine, which was joined soon after by a second bear, along with an umbrella to protect them from the elements. She enjoyed driving past these whimsically positioned bears, imagining them to be picnicking—although if my parents stuck me outside for two years with, say, Scary, and no TV and no booze, I might call it abandonment.

Gayle seems to be a well-meaning person who, in fairness, believes the outdoors to be a fitting ursine setting. Apparently these bears are tough mothers too:

“…they always looked the same—no moss or mould—just cuddled together in the rain and snow and sunshine… Last week, I noticed only the umbrella was there. What happened to the bears? Where did they go? Maybe they went to a teddy bears’ picnic in the woods.”

I would freaking hope somebody adopted them so they could catch up on Breaking Bad while pounding a six-pack. We “teddy” bears don’t fare so well outside. Like Gayle, I wondered what had happened to them. Had they been abducted? Interrogated? Imprisoned? Did someone make them rub lotion on themselves? OMG!

Holy crap, is “spa” some sort of euphemism for “washing machine”? Only the bears know for sure. I’m going to visit them this week and give them some beer.

Swarm the house?

My parents haven’t even packed more than six boxes and they’re already talking about something called a House Swarming. Holy crap, my fellow inebriates, I have no idea what to make of this. What does it mean? What the hell is a House Swarming?

Will the house be swarmed with people depositing things (liquor?) or removing things (liquor?)…

Or does it have anything to do with liquor at all?

Thoughts?

I gotta feeling…

I gotta feeling

Things are changing at LBHQ. Last night my dad poured us a Scotch, then we hung out and listened to tunes. After I passed out, he tucked me in with the other bears.

And tonight we have company. Yes! Christine (famous for the canvas bag of booze!) is visiting. Two bottles of red wine sit waiting. My mum’s going to cook something boring, and while she does that, my dad and I will get wasted with Christine.

So excited, people! Reviews to come… 😉