Why The Bear Came To The Door

“The eyeball made this disgusting sound.   It might have slid up and down my heel as I walked.”

“Feelings?  We were talking about feelings?”   Monitor Man prompts.

'That eyeball squished every time I took a step.  Did you know that?”  She asks looking back at him.

“Go ahead...”  He says huskily. “...talk about your feelings.” 

Writer Lady looks at Monitor Man.  “Remember that you wanted me to do this.  You asked me to talk about my feelings.”

Monitor Man nods in agreement.

“Do you remember when you were a kid?  Imagine that you're a kid and your brother tells you that you're going to get a new bike for Christmas.  He tells you over and over that he has seen signs that it's going to happen.  Your Christmas dream is going to come true.  You know that you haven't been the best behaved lately.   You have been doing your chores carelessly and slacking on the quality of your homework.   You tell yourself,  'No way.  It's never going to happen.  I'm not getting a new bike for Christmas.'  Your brother persists.  He heard Mom and Dad talking about what Santa is bringing.  You want to believe that he is talking about it so much because there is something to it.  You want to believe that he's right.  You hear it so much that eventually you start to believe that you're getting that new bike for Christmas too.  You can't wait for Christmas morning, you're so excited.   Christmas morning comes.  You jump out of bed and run downstairs you look everywhere...no bike.  That's how I felt."

Things are quiet for a moment.

“I'm as exciting as a new bike?”  Monitor Man asks.

Writer Lady continues, “It's just one of those things, you tell yourself not to believe it.  You close yourself off to the idea completely or you think that you are being unrealistic and then it doesn't happen.  Even though you insisted to yourself that it wasn't going to happen a part of you is still disappointed.  A little bit sad.

“So those were your feelings?”  Monitor Man asks.

Writer Lady nods.  “Disappointed and a little bit sad.  Irritated with myself.”

Monitor Man looks at Writer Lady.

She continues without looking at him.   “That I'm not one of those women...one that would have jumped on the opportunity and kissed you anyway whether you had a girlfriend or not.”  She finishes, studying the blanket, folding it and unfolding a section of the blanket's edge between her fingers.

Monitor Man reaches out gently guiding her face to look at him.  “I'm glad that you aren't one of those women and it's nice to be someone's new bike.”

Writer Lady starts to smile and covers her mouth with her hand.  Uncovering her mouth she says, “It wasn't the best analogy.”

“I'm proud to be a new bike.”

Writer Lady starts looking around.  “Are we done here?”
“Feelings are something that you don't like to talk about.”  He teases.

“Feeling words can be powerful.  They can have a lot of weight.  Since we're sharing,”  Writer Lady says changing the subject,  “why did you come here?  You have been gone all of this time.  What compelled you to choose to come here now?”

“To see you.”  Monitor Man says, a smile crosses his lips.   “About a war.”

“Did someone say 'war'?”  Tinkletoes asks.   The self-proclaimed mercenary's head is peeking through the door.

“How do you know what Monitor Man said?   Didn't you go home?”  Writer Lady asks.

“Yeah.  I put a microphone in here.  That way I know when things are getting interesting and it's a good time to come over.”

“A microphone?”  Writer Lady asks.  She starts looking around the room.

“Get up.   Come into the living room and let's talk about war.  Ray's making coffee.”  Tinkletoes says.

Monitor Man looks at Writer Lady.

“Ray is making coffee?  Do you think that's a good idea?”  Writer Lady asks Tinkletoes.

“TP's helping him.”

Writer Lady looks at Monitor Man.

“What?  I said that there was gonna be coffee.”   Tinkletoes says.   “Come on...war is the fun part.”  Tinkletoes' head disappears and the door closes again.

Writer Lady groans, she leans on Monitor Man's shoulder, and closes her eyes.

“I do have a great idea.”  Monitor Man says.  “Let's go get some coffee and I'll tell you all about it.”  He whispers.

Writer Lady doesn't respond.

Monitor Man gently nudges her with his shoulder.  “Come on.”  He says.

“I'm comfortable.”

“If you get up and go into the living room I'll bring you coffee.”

“Good coffee?”

“Um hmm.”

“With sugar?  And half and half?”

“Yes.”  He says smiling.

“O...kay.”

Monitor Man smiles and gets out of bed.

Writer Lady grudgingly stands up too.   “I want to borrow that shoulder again before you go.”  She says.

He grins without answering and leaves the room.

“I'm not kidding!”  Writer Lady calls after him.

Tinkletoes stands at the front of the room waiting...battle is coming and he is firing on all cylinders.   The consummate fighter.  Focused, alert, ready for action.  Tinkletoes isn't only great, he sets the standard for soldiers everywhere both on the planet and throughout the universe.

“TP would you stop it with the narrative already.”  Writer Lady says from her spot on the couch, Diomedes is flanking her on one side and Furnatche is curled up at her feet.  The room is full.  Tinkletoes made sure he woke up everyone.

Tinkletoes looks at TP and nods.  The faerie comes in close for a high five.  The self-proclaimed mercenary's thumb and TP's hand meet.

“You're using that for the commercial aren't you?”  Writer Lady asks.

“It's for the commercial.”  He confirms.

“Do you have a slogan?”   Diomedes asks.

“Vote Tinkletoes.   He Won't Spend All Of Your Money On Clothes.”  TP says giggling.

Everyone in the room looks at each other.  They give it a “thumbs down.”

“How about something shorter.”  Dylan suggests.

“Vote Tinkletoes.  He Won't Tickle Your Nose.”

Thumbs down.

“It should be something that you want people to remember about you or your campaign.”  Paige calls.

“Vote Tinkletoes.  I Never Pick My Nose.”

Thumbs down.

“It's true and it rhymes.”  Peter says in an effort to be supportive.

“He never picks.”  Dylan agrees, shaking his head.

Tinkletoes looks at the crowd, smiles for a moment and says, “I'll Kill All The Aliens.”

“I thought that we agreed that statement left too much open to interpretation.” Monitor Man says as he steps around people, over Dobby and avoids a frontal assault from the kittens to his bare feet to deliver a cup of coffee to Writer Lady.

“Yeah.”  Tinkletoes agrees, losing his smile.

Writer Lady smiles at Monitor Man and accepts the mug.  “Thank you.  This is my favorite mug too.   How did you know?”  She asks.

“When I reached for it Ray screamed like he'd been stabbed with a hot poker.”

“Post Traumatic Stress.”  Tinkletoes says.  “She really loves that mug.”