I was talking with my friend Sjofn and was reminded of a story I had written a few years ago. It was about one of my first dates after my divorce. I took the lovely young lady to a Build-A-Bear shop and this is what I took from the experience…
And now I bring you,
The Teddy Bear Incident
I took Chii on a date yesterday. She had let me know a couple of weeks ago that she really wanted to go to one of those stores where you can build and dress your own teddy bear. Being a guy that’s willing to take a hint in order to make a date enjoyable for a girl, I took her there. What follows, is my somewhat surreal take on our time in the shop. My apologies ahead of time if I destroy anyone’s sense of innocence when it comes to their teddy bears. I did have a fun time with Chii while she built her bear and am considering taking her there again in the future.
We walk into store and the haunting refrain of a happy teddy bear song assaults my eardrums. My neck begins twichting convulsively, but I get it under control before my head falls from my shoulders.
I notice an employee standing behind the counter and we approach to get the low-down on how this works. As we walk to the counter, I notice her lean down slightly to talk to someone behind the counter. I figure it’s an employee stocking until I hear her whisper, “It puts the conditioner on it’s fur or else it gets the hose.” She notices us approach, straightens up and plasters a smile worthy of Jack Nicholson on her face before welcoming us to the store.
“Have you built a teddy bear before?”
Chii, obviously missing the sinister aura coming from the salesperson still has her voice and answers, “Nope.”
“Well, first you choose your body. We have several here on the auction block to choose from. The cocker spaniel is a new and limited body, so they’re on that riser there. You choose a body and then follow the checklist we’ve left in the ear piercing. If you have any questions feel free to ask.”
We walk over to the auction block and study the bodies available. A small man in a turban stalks behind the display of bodies offering commentary to any customer making the mistake of eye contact. “This one good sir is of fine stock. It will suffer through many hugs. Look at the full torso on this cocoa breed, it has been bred to withstand and camouflage the stains of mud and the blood of skinned knees.”
Chii chose a rather average body. A brown bear with a white muzzle and inner ears. Rather cute actually. The slave merchant had only this to offer concerning her choice, “Mistress certainly looks as though she knows quality. While there is nothing wrong with the body of this, there are far better and longer lasting available. Perhaps Mistress would consider the unicorn as a playmate for this?”
Chii was happy with her choice and delivered a swift kick to the slaver as we checked the list and headed over to the sound stand. What is a sound stand? Well, it’s where the customer chooses a vox ursus for their new stuffed animal. There are about fifteen choices. All very standard and potentially annoying after the first five times they are heard. Chii sampled the voices and opted against getting one. Her new bear is a mute. Considering the lifetime of bondage the poor bear would have to suffer, I felt it a wise choice to deny the poor thing any chance to cry out in misery.
The next step is stuffing the poor bear. The bear stuffing is held in one of three machines straight out of the Wonka factory. A wizened crone sat at the only operating machine while we were there.
“So, you’ve come to have your bear filled with eviscerae? Hand his body to me. What will happen is this, I will impale your bear on this chrome tail pipe. You will then work the foot pedal as his insides are filled, going no more than 70psi. I will fill the body and you will have the option to perhaps over-stuff him if you see fit. Once you are satisfied with that amount of stuffing, you will take one of the beating hearts our priest of Kali has left in that bin. You must take a bite of the heart while making a wish and then thrust the pulsating heart into the chest while chanting , ‘Om nom Shiva‘. While you chant I will seal the heart into its new vessel for all of eternity.”
Chii began working the foot pedal and I observed the stuffing of the bear. It was much akin to watching a liposuction operation in reverse. The chrome tailpipe was brutally thrust into the limbs and chest of the bear over and over packing the stuffing as far as it would go. I later observed this happening to another bear. The small girl had chosen the “I love you.” voice. The bear would proclaim its love for the child and it’s torturer each time the pipe was forced into its body.
After Chii finished filling the bear the wizened crone pulled a rusty needle from out of nowhere and attached it to the catgut hanging from the ragged ends of flesh in the bear’s back. She pulled the stitches tight and then smoothed the flesh of the bear to lessen the scarring. From out of her robes then appeared a pair of scissors a Fate would be proud to own and severed the catgut microns away from the bear’s flesh.
Handing the bear to Chii, she pointed us to the next station. It turned out to be a cleansing and indoctrination station. Another pedal waited for Chii’s tread. When she pressed down on the pedal a blast of air combined with a aerosol to weaken our resolve against the slavery of bears flowed from two shower heads that had once hung in Charlie Manson’s prison shower. After blow drying the fur, Chii combed and groomed the bear like a mother chimpanzee.
Next in line was the bear’s identification papers. Chii and I crossed the store to a line of computers. The computers were all tied to a database holding the IDs of all the bears currently owned in the U.S. Chii entered the unique color markings on the fur and choose a name. I forgot to mention. When the Fate was sewing up the bear’s guts, she inserted an identification chip alongside the heart. If Chii’s bear ever makes a break for the Underground Teddy Bear Railroad and is caught, they’ll be able to send the bear back to her clapped in ursine-sized chains. This is also the point at which Puff named her bear. The bear is forever to be known as Coz and no longer to be called Grrwrvvor (which means Kunta Kinte in Ursine).
Now that the bear had been filled and marked it was time to dress the bear. The walls were covered in various clothing styles. Almost any possible costume choice is available here for the new owner. We looked over the options and were taken by a few of them. Most notably the super hero costume and the small leather jacket for the bear who is lucky enough to own its own Harley.
Chii, dressed like one of the most adorable punk girls I’ve ever had or wanted on my arm, decided to dress her bear in a very traditional way. A pair of blue jeans with a hole cut in its ass, a nifty red shirt, a blue baseball cap and white tennis shoes. We also looked at a nifty tatami and some camping gear for the bear. Not wanting to encourage Coz making a run for the Underground Railroad, she opted out of the camping gear and tatami.
Finished we approached the counter again. The poor bear kept at the bottom of the well had finished applying the conditioner to its fur and was now calling for his mommy. Chii was handed her ownership papers and Coz was placed in a small, portable jail cell. Happy with her purchase Chii and I exited the store and began walking the mall with poor Coz rattling the bars of his cage and pleading with his eyes to be let go.
Coz looked like this before being ordered to wear human clothes.
