At de Siding

So, then, there was this little bear, of a lovely orange hue, who went trouncing through the lolling hills one day. pleasant day it was, and pleasing to the senses. The sun was shining happily, and adjectives abounded to make the day even more vivid. Soon even adverbs were there as well, painting such a picturesque picture of redundancy that sweet Shannon, for that was the bear's name, was soon quite overwhelmed by it all. He was rather happy, and feeling especially thankful for being alive, despite his fuzzy little head being overful of those deep questions that make life so interesting, or at least mildly challenging. Such metaphysical issues as life, the universe, and everything weighed upon him, like a large book, filling him with wonder and astonishment, but yet through it all, he was decidedly happy. Having procured just the day before a lovely sticker of a doughnut, he thought of it, and the simple pelasures in life. MMMMMmmmmmmm, doughnut. A light glazing made things even better, he decided, although too much could be a problem. In fact, he was rather partial to creme-filled, and especially with the chocolate icing. He had quite the sweet tooth; in fact he had a whole mouth full of them. He wondered if one couldn't, upon the presentation of some starving-to-death type scenario, at least eat a sweet tooth, and receive some sort of nutritive value from it. He reckoned more likely not, though, and trundled along Shakedown Street, on his way to Terrapin Station, where he was to catch the train. It seemed like only yesterday, that he had seen her off on the train. Well, fact of the matter was, it was only the day before yesterday, but you know how things like love and infatuation can distort time, and all other boundaries of the real and not-quite-so-real. What would that train bring when it arrived? Surely there had to be answers, but there ain't no easy answers, that he knew. Hmmm, he sat down, and ate the ceremonial pack of Toastchee's. Food fit fer a king, so he thought. Tasty and good fer what ails ya. He scolded himself for thinking in such an uneducated dialect, but knew it was all good, as no one would be reading his thoughts, except for the narrator, who was, of course, omniscient. Curious, he thought, how is it that you can know what I am thinking? A good question I answered, as I was quite unwittingly drawn into the story line. This was not supposed to happen, as everyone knows one shouldn't write in the first person. But why not, he asked? And shouldn't you be using quotation marks?

"Yes, of course," I answered, reverting back to honors English classes of days gone by. "I suppose correct grammer is important for me as well."

"Good then," he replied. "Can I get on with my adventures?"

"Well, I suppose that since I'm sorta in charge of those adventures, I'm pretty much in charge."

"Well!" He snorted, and huffed "There's no call to be persnickety,"

"Ok then," I agreed, feeling rather sorry for such rudeness- a prime example of absolute power corrupting me. "On we go..."

As the narrator's voice trailed off, he caught himself slipping into the third person, and immediately got back on track.
Back on track, Shannon watched, and realized he should actually not be on track, in case the train were to arrive then. He knew it wasn't due for another long, agonizing week, but still better safe than sorry. A pity he couldn't think so clearly in other situations, but that was all in the past, and he hoped and prayed that nothing would come out of that. Indeed, he didn't know what to think at all, even in a nifty metaphorical sort of way. He was quite at a loss to remotely parablize the situation, so he decided to get on with things.

And get on he did, as the universe was rumbling around him with change. While things were nice, the wheel was turning, and he couldn't slow down. He couldn't let go, and can't hang on. Can't go back, and he can't stand still, if the thunder didn't get him, then the lightning will... As he *was* rather confused, he listened to the music playing, and it sang sweet songs, to rock his soul. He knew that it was all out of his hands anyway, so, with Faith in hand, head and heart, he smiled a big furry smile, and set off down the line. Interesting, he thought as he kept on, that such a random adventure had turned into a concrete representation of something more than randomness. Ah, he thought, the joys of catharsis. I had to agree...
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