A Poem for Victory

Hi there. Things have been mighty strange round these parts, and I don't know what to make of it. There are zebras everywhere, Ozzie and Harriet have been fixin up the house, and a big tube of polyster has supplanted the bears in the bed. None of these events strike me as an improvement for the bears. Sure, the zebras can be kind of cute sometimes and I suppose the new railing for the stairs is fun to slide on, but the zebras are loud, there is drywall dust everywhere, and the bed is overrun by polyester that is not me.

An even stranger change is Harriet. She's hasn't been acting like herself lately. She's always tired and has heart burn that won't quit. I'm serious, that girl pops Tums and Pepcid and Xantac like they were candy. And just between you and me, she's put on a lot of weight. No wonder she looks tired, she's carrying around an extra watermelon or two. Big watermelons.

But the strangest thing going on in the house is how everyone is treating Harriet. Normally, when she looks tired all the bears would pounce on her and make her take a nap. And sometimes we do exactly that. But most of the time, Wagsy and George and Lobby all help push Harriet out of bed in the morning. The first time I saw it, I just couldn't believe it. Here was a woman that would could easily sleep another hour and teddy bears are pushing her out?! What sort of alternate universe are we living in?

So to rectify the situation, and in honor of today's auspicious date (being March 4th), I issue a poetic call to arms to my fellow teddy bears!

March forth eager bears of polyester
Dreams of cuddling must be acted upon
Seize the prize and nap with furry flourish

The horn has been sounded (in true trochaic pentameter no less). Will the fur balls in the house listen?