Oatmeal
Mommy Bear stood by the woodstove in her cozy den, preparing breakfast for her family.
“Yum!” said Daddy Bear, coming into the kitchen. “That smells good! What is it?”
“It’s oatmeal,” Mommy Bear said, stirring the contents in the pot.
“Where are the boys?” Daddy Bear asked.
“George and Paul are both outside somewhere,” explained Mommy Bear. “I think they are looking for something to brighten up the taste of the oatmeal.”
“Don’t tell me they are on that kick again?” Daddy Bear asked.
“You know they don’t like their oatmeal plain,” Mommy Bear explained. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really like plain oatmeal, either.”
“I have to confess,” Daddy Bear said. “I don’t like plain oatmeal at all. I rather like all the different things that the boys bring home. It gives the oatmeal such flavor.”
“Remember the time the boys brought the ants home for the oatmeal,” laughed Mommy Bear. “The ants kept crawling out of the bowl, onto the table and then all over us. I remember we were all itching for weeks after that.”
“I still get itchy, just thinking about it,” laughed Daddy Bear.
“I’ll never forget the time they brought a beehive home, from Mr. Wilson’s place,” Mommy Bear roared.
“Yeah,” roared Daddy Bear, too. “They forgot to leave the bees outside! Remember the time they went to the dump to find something to add to our oatmeal!”
“The smell of the two of them!” Mommy Bear said as she wrinkled her nose. “It took weeks to get rid of that awful smell.”
“Was that smell from the boys?” asked Daddy Bear. “Or was it from the skunk that followed them home?”
“Oh,” chuckled Mommy Bear. “I had forgotten all about that skunk. The smell from the boys being at the dump wasn’t too bad. It was the smell from the skunk that was the worst.”
Little George was romping around the field waiting for his brother, Paul, to catch up to him.
“Hey George,” Paul called. “What do you feel like for our oatmeal this morning?”
“How about some frogs from the pond?” asked George.
“Frogs!” exclaimed Paul. “Oatmeal and frogs. That sounds good.”
The two bear cubs wandered off across the field and towards the pond that bordered the forest from Mr. Wilson’s property.
“Do you think Mr. Wilson will mind if we borrow some of his frogs?” George asked.
“Oh,” said Paul. “He won’t mind. I think he kind of likes us.”
Mr. Wilson did not mind Paul and George living near him. He did, however, mind that they were taking things off his property without his permission. He was going to put a stop to all this nonsense the very next time those two bear cubs stepped foot on his property.
George caught the first frog as it was jumping from a rock into the pond. A few moments later, Paul caught the second one. George caught two more and then Paul lost his footing and stumbled into the deep, cold water. George helped to rescue his brother.
Mr. Wilson, upon hearing a huge splash, jumped up from his chair.
“Martha!” he yelled to his wife. “Fetch me my rubbers.”
Martha stepped onto the back porch and got Mr. Wilson his big, heavy rubber boots, just as Mr. Wilson was taking his rifle down from his gun rack.
“Oh Harry!” she screamed. “No! Not the gun. That’s too dangerous.”
“Well,” Mr. Wilson said. “I’ve got to do something. Those bears are down in the pond again, making trouble.”
“Ah Harry,” Martha cried. “How much trouble can two little cubs cause?”
“I guess you’re right,” reasoned Mr. Wilson, putting his rifle back. “But, we’ve got to do something to keep those bears off our land.”
“I’ve got an idea,” said Martha. “The loudspeaker, is it still set up near the pond?”
“Yes, it is,” Mr. Wilson said. “The grandchildren never did take it down after their corn roast last fall.”
“I have a Halloween tape that the grandchildren had left here,” said Martha. “We could play that on the loudspeaker. That should scare the bears away.”
Martha Wilson went to get the cassette tape.
“Hey George,” Paul called. “I think we have enough frogs now.”
“Boo-ooo-ooo,” went the loudspeaker.
“What was that?” asked George, a little frightened.
“Oh, probably just the wind,” Paul said.
“Boo-ooo-ooo,” went the loudspeaker, even louder.
George and Paul dropped their frogs and took off running for home as fast as they could.
“My!” exclaimed Mommy Bear, when the door of the den flew open and her two sons came charging in. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“We didn’t see one,” George said, all out of breath.
“We heard one,” Paul said.
The bear family heard a croaking sound outside of their door. Daddy Bear went over to the door and opened it. A dozen or so frogs came hopping into the den.
“Don’t tell me,” laughed Daddy Bear. “These little guys are for our oatmeal!”
“I guess they heard the ghost too,” laughed Paul.
Moral of this Story:
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