Found Fiction, Issue 2: Officer Bear

FOUND FICTION

Found Fiction is a collection of quick stories about a single object that has been found on the streets. We only give ourselves 15 minutes to write, ensuring unfiltered creativity and tons of awkward mistakes.Â

VOL. 2| OFFICER BEAR

BROUGHT TO YOU BY SYLVAIN LABS Wednesday, November 13, 13

THE STIMULUS

Wednesday, November 13, 13

A small figurine of a teddy bear soldier, found on a side street in Rome.

MERIDETH: The Execution The remains of a taxing dispute Between a strong-willed child high on suckers, And a worn-out dad who couldn't take anymore.

An act of horror ended it all.

The bear lost his head, The boy lost his toy, The dad lost his dignity.

But, the bystanders, they all triumphed.

Wednesday, November 13, 13

GRETCHEN: So, this is what happens to those that don't make it to the final audition for Toy Story 5. I heard it really sucks to get cut, but I didn't think they meant it so literally.

I told them their secrets would be safe with me, but obviously they didn't want to risk it...For Pete's Sake I'm a teddy bear (cuddly and so sweet) and a soldier (honoring secrets for eons!)

Screw script leaks, here's the real-life spoilers: Woody is an Irish transvestite, "Buzz" is always high (I mean c'mon, look at those eyes), and Little Bo Peep lost more than her "sheep" if you know what I mean‌

Wednesday, November 13, 13

BEN: Cookie Monster Something’s wrong. I’m in Rome, standing on some Oreo cookie surface, and MY HEAD IS MISSING! Gone. Not here. I don’t even know.

Why would someone torture me like this. I LOVE Oreos. And the one time I find myself standing on 100% pure Oreo, I have no head. No mouth with which to gorge. What the heck is that about?!?

But really, that’s the least of my problems, isn’t it? How am I here?

How am I alive? I have no head! And how am I thinking, perceiving, understanding? How do I know I’m in Rome standing on a delicious Oreo cookie surface? I have no eyes to see the streets, no ears to hear the language, no nose to smell the sweet chocolatey and creamy goodness of the Oreo cookie surface. I love Oreos. Mmmmmm.

Wait, are these Droxies? What the heck! Ugh, they are! Gross. I don’t even want my feet touching this crap excuse for a cookie.

But how do I know this? I don’t get it. I want answers! Or do I just want Oreos? And my head! Yes, I want my head. No, let’s be real.

The only reason I want my head is to eat some damn Oreos.

Wednesday, November 13, 13

DEBI: It was 7:02am. She checks her watch. He’s late. He’s never late.

His place was set at the table by the window. His regular spot.

Scrambled eggs. Toast and jam. Cappuccino with two cubes of sugar. She watches the sugar disappear into the foam.

7:07am.

It’s raining now. Not many cars on the street, but she sees a few early bird tourists scurrying across the piazza.

The bell rings, another order is up.

She turns and wipes her hands on her apron. An older couple squishes in from the street with a newspaper held over their heads. They’re giggling.

At 7:15 she steps outside for a cigarette. She’s worried. She wonders where he is. If he’s okay. If he’s eaten.

There’s a crunch as she steps on something. She looks down to find a tiny bear on a keychain on the wet concrete. She looks at it and his goofy smile and buggy eyes stare back at her. She bends down to pick it up. It’s cold and wet and out of place there. 7:21. She tries hard to remember the last thing she said to him. She had made a joke about Italians hibernating in the winter and he had just smiled. The head of the bear snaps off in her hand and she slips it into her pocket and drops the decapitated body to the concrete. With one last drag on her cigarette, she turns back inside, the door slamming behind her.

Wednesday, November 13, 13

ALEXANDRE: Bear, The Canadian Bounty Hunter Legless, the Hawaiian beach proved a difficult trek for an inebriated Grizzly. The heat and humidity had barely diminished come sun-down, and the northern-climed furry ursid grumbled at his choice of vacation spots.

Not many Grizzlies have a chance to travel, but the sudden discovery of a lottery ticket had propelled this one to a momentary spotlight on Canadian gossip rags and a muchdreamed of adventure to the Tropics.

But mo honey mo problems as this snouted forest-friend knew, and his sudden financial success was undercut by a consistent irritability.

Having made it off the beach, the bear bared his soaked teeth as he shook the sand from his greasy mange. A commotion began around him as he looked up to find a golden-maned man brushing sand off his own person.

“Bare this in mind bear brah, don’t be brandishing teeth as you shake your problems on me.”

The bear took a swing, but found himself quickly cuffed by the golden-maned man and his companions.

Wednesday, November 13, 13

:ERDNAXEL Bear, The Canadian Bounty Hunter [CONTINUED] Waking in a sober state the following day, the mis-adventured two-tonne of muscled hair found that his bail had been posted… by someone called Dog. [insert intervention sequence here followed by Bounty Hunter training montage] Back in Canada aye, Bear the now Canadian Bounty Hunter famous for being the only non-human in his profession, uses his new skills to prevent crime in those awkward suburban places between forests and cities. His success on the streets led him to The Discovery Channel, where Bear chases Bear Grylls in the ever-popular “Bear Bares All Grylls For Thrills” televised series.

But lo did the fast life prove too much for our fuzzy mamtagonist, and one fateful day the limbo pole sprint rally of 2013 led to decapitable results for Bear. He had been drunk off meade.

Wednesday, November 13, 13

LAUREEN: This is a crime scene. Someone chopped off a head. Someone chopped off the head of a bear. Someone chopped off the head of a military bear and left him here, lying on the wet Roman road. Was I the first one to stumble upon it? Had anyone seen this before me, and in a state of utter powerlessness and surreality, simply walked by thinking...“ouch!"

Back in days of the Golden Age, chopping someone's head was the ultimate sign go punishment. "Who did you betray?" I thought. "Did some kid hold you responsible for being an accomplice of the whole Santa Claus scam?" If they can't chop their parents’ heads off for lying to them, they can at least get revenge by mutilating the impostor...

Powerlessness and surreality made me walk away too, without having a clue of what was going to happen to it. I like to think that it was just a complete misunderstanding, that the little bear was just holding its head in to prank the nosy, curious dramaseekers like me.

Wednesday, November 13, 13

JOEY: Tooty Tammy He was always a good luck charm. A totem.

I found him on what is inarguably the luckiest day of my life.

I was in third grade and things had been a little rocky in the past six months. My parents were going through a trial separation. I was getting picked on every day in the bathroom because of a slightly traumatizing episode of flatulence— strange how a name like “Tooty Tammy” can stick with you. And to top it all off I’d received a terrible haircut from my Polish grandmother who thought she was doing my emotionally bereft mother a favor by cutting my hair with a bowl and sewing scissors saving money on frivolities like “professional haircuts.” A bob is not meant for round-faced pre-pubescent girls with frizzy Jewish hair.

I found the small bear walking to school one morning. I liked the smile he had on his face; it was sincere, but not too light-hearted, a good, determined kind of face. He had on a military outfit. I walked in a stiff military style the rest of the way to school. I wasn’t aware yet, but things were already turning around.

By the time I got to school I was feeling big and strong— there is something to be said for walking in that high stepping military formation that puts a little pep in your step. Feeling brave is the hardest part of being brave, and for some reason this little bear was making me feel different.

Wednesday, November 13, 13

:YEO By the time everyone was coming in from recess I couldn’t hold it much longer. Mrs. Gagne, my third grade teacher stopped by the restroom on the way back to our classroom everyday. When she saw me already lined up to go back to the classroom, but dancing in place, she came over to me.

“You know Tamera, you should probably use the bathroom now, we’re doing math when we get back and you’re not going to have time to go then.”

“It’s ok, I think I can hold it.” I said, clearly unable to hold it.

“I wouldn’t worry about what anyone else has to say, sweetie. When people pick on me, I just rub whatever they say back in their faces. It seems to work alright.”

She gave me a push in the back and sent me towards the bathroom.

When I walked through the threshold, a group of girls were already inside waiting. Jenny—whom I still consider my all time archnemesis—saw me come in and her eyes gleamed. I knew something was coming, I could see that she was scheming some way to make fun of me. She’d been the leader of the pack for the past three months and anytime she looked my way I became super nervous. I couldn’t hold it any longer, but I was the last girl in line. I started fidgeting and twisting, dancing around in place, reaching down into my pockets. I found that silly little bear, and just as I was afraid I was going to pee my pants, I had an idea.

Wednesday, November 13, 13

JOEY: Tooty Tammy [CONTINUED] As Alice Conners walked out of the stall and Jenny started to walk in to take her turn, I made my move. I walked up and asked Jenny if she would let me cut, when she called me “Tooty Tammy” I shoved her back, farted as loud as I could and ran in to the stall. Whether out of confusion or some legitimate fear of my flatulence, Jenny was rendered speechless.

As I walked back to the classroom I was awash with a new sensation. Maybe it was just the relief of emptying my bladder, but I think it was something else— I felt like I was in control of my situation for the first time in several months. I was in charge. And I kept walking the rest of that day with that same military high step.

When I got home that night my parents told me that they were going to get back together and try to make things work. So I kept that bear in my pocket each and every day. Except this week as I passed by the elementary school, I had the urge to pass the totem on. I left it on the sidewalk. Maybe it will just get picked up by some janitor sweeping up before school, but maybe it will get picked up by some third grade girl who could use a little confidence. I like to imagine the latter.

Wednesday, November 13, 13

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Wednesday, November 13, 13