Sat. Apr 20th, 2024

“Whose been sleeping in my bed?”

“Whose been sleeping in MY bed?”

“Hey you little brat, get the ^%$#@! out of our house! Someone call the police.”

What, you don’t remember that part of the story? Well here’s what really happened…

Gold-E-Locks was pissed. So she went to her rich Neo Con Daddy who worked for the bank that held the note on the Bear property. It was a flat note. No, not the impossible keys of Ab, Pb, Zb or that Shakespeare-ian “To B or not to Bb,” though Goldie at her age was a little… flat. A bank note with a flat rate. But, in print so small and confusing that no Bear could bear read it, the Bank had put in the claws that they could use any little excuse to raise the rate.

Yes, Scribe knows it’s usually spelled “clause,” but this is a story about Bears. Leave it alone or he’ll turn this into a Christmas story starring an ant as Scrooge pestering the Bears, which would make it a… Santa… Anta… Claws story.

Daddy knew he had the Bear family by the… fur, at that point. Mama Bear had written a check for one payment at the end of the bank day and the clerk, who was busy bonking one of the other banker’s wives in a closet, didn’t register it until the next day. So, officially, the Bears were late, late, late, for an important date.

So Daddy-O huffed and he puffed…

Yes, that’s all from other fairy tales. Give Scribe a friggin break. He’s telling a story!

…wheezed, he sneezed and de-flea-d his pet poodle named Panting Panzer Mead…

And then raised the loan rate 1000%.

The bears fought him in court all the way to the Supremes, but Mr. “Hair in my coffee” Clarence Thomas, dressed as Diana Ross, told the Bear Family that the “claws” was legit, because the Constitution says that corporations can do anything to anybody. They’re human, damn it, don’t you know that?

The Bears now live in a cold cave so they won’t get phone calls from, fake, loan shark looking for more money for his company. actually owned by Neo-Daddy. You see they had to take out a loan to pay court costs, and it was the only company that could bear loaning money to Bears. They didn’t know it was owned by Gold-E-Locks sugar Daddy.

Daddy put a gold lock on the Bear house and only his daughter has a key. For a while the little twit spent a lot of time partying and E-mailing her other rich friends from the house. But being a rich, spoiled, brat, she grew tired of her new property and sold it to Walmart. Now she’s a millionaire, on her way to inheriting Daddy’s trillions, because you traitorous Commie/Pinko/Socialist/fag-loving Liberals don’t want a %$#@! death tax, do you?

There, now wasn’t that a nice story?

Scribe doesn’t think so either.

Stay tuned for our next fairy tale where Neo Daddy sends The Three Little Pigs to a poorhouse: one that serves only pulled pork. Pulled pork? Now there’s a dirty joke even Scribe won’t touch. Now please excuse YOS, he needs a stiff… never mind.

By Ye Olde Scribe

Elderly curmudgeon who likes to make others laugh while giving the Reich Wing a rhetorical enema.

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