Thursday, September 22, 2005

"BEAR AT THE DOOR" is a fast fiction that I hope will find favour in your heart of hearts. It's got a cute little child, sweaty-palmed parents and a guest appearance by a bear, so really what's not to love ?

Today's inspiration comes from Catherine Ryan, an amazingly talented painter who "has been chosen as one of the ten artists to represent HANG at the AAF Contemporary Art Fair in New York, Oct. 27th-30th 2005." Drop by her site to see for yourself what all the hoo-ha is really all about.
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Tomorrow I will be back with part three of
VIRAL KILLER, QU'EST-CE QUE C'EST ?

But for now enjoy...



BEAR AT THE DOOR


"Are those child safe scissors ?"

"What are child safe scissors ?"

"You know, scissors that are..."

"Too blunt to be of any use ?"

They stand in very close range to one another: husband and wife; father and mother, pro and con. They are locked in each others gazes and differences and disbeliefs.

Cindy stands beneath them like a vacationer at a mildly interesting tourist attraction of Statues Engaged in Child Rearing Differences. Her stuffed rabbit is a dirty souvenir from a previous visit.

"After you made me put three sets of training wheels on her bike, I really thought you'd let up a little. You know, trust that her world had finally been made completely safe. But you've actually been getting worse. Worse. Aren't you worried about my safety ?"

"What are you talking about ?" she snarls, her arms akimbo.

"The safety of my sanity."

As they bicker through a litany of child safety issues, Cindy wanders out of the kitchen and into the living room. She opens the giant front door of the house to an overweight black bear.

"So can I come in to play or what ?" he whispers in a low growl, as though his throat were full of stones.

"I'm sorry Mr Bear... I'm sorry Mr Bear..."

"Are you afraid of me ?" he whisper growls.

"I'm afraid of the rocks in your throat. I'm not allowed to bring outside things inside. Anyways I'm not supposed to touch rocks. They have sharp edges. Your voice has sharp edges."

"Okay well... do you have any cookies you could get me from the kitchen ?"

And she closes the door on her one possible friend.

Her parents continue to bicker in the fluorescently lit kitchen.

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