Danger Bear! Dos!

Ever since the diving incident, Scribbles and I haven't been getting along. It's a good thing my owner is also into fish. Gary and I have really hit it off lately. Goldfish aren't much for talking (I can't hear him anyways given the glass between us). Still, he follows my paw wherever it goes.

I wonder if he would talk if there wasn't glass between us. He's in that big tank all by himself. Maybe he could use some company. Taking this thought into action (that's why they call me Danger Bear), I decide to stack some books next to Gary's tank. Next to the books I drag over a large snow globe. I use the books and the snow globe as stairs until I am towering over the water. Without warning I hear a "RIOWR!" and Scribbles pushes me into the fish tank. I thought that cat couldn't climb up here! I'm going to need better defenses against this cat.

My teenage owner isn't one for cleanliness so the lid to the tank is missing. I can't swim and my fur starts to take in water. Eventually I sink to the bottom of the tank and Gary starts swimming laps around me. Apparently he can't talk because he never laughs or says a word.

Danger Bear! Uno!

Danger Bear here. I've been locked up in this closet for the last three hours. Apparently Scribbles doesn't like it when I dive on him from the dresser. But they don't call me Danger Bear for nothing!

I'm getting out of here. Scribbles can't stay out there all day. Let's see. What do we have here? This umbrella will work. I'll take this stocking hat as well. It looks good on me.

I push the door open and Scribbles is ready to strike. You have to give that cat credit. Three hours of waiting and he is still ready to pounce. Unfortunately for him I expected that. As soon as I open the door I push the umbrella in his face. Scribbles gets a mouthful of umbrella giving me just enough time to climb up the dresser. By the time he realizes what happened I am in perfect mocking condition atop the dresser.

Maybe I'll launch down on him again...

The ah-ha!

Chopin's Etudes sits at his piano as he begins practicing. His fingers race through the familiar notes. He's played it hundreds of times, but this time he stops halfway through the twelfth measure.

It flickers for an instant. A moment of brilliance. A melody. A harmony. The perfect music dancing through his brain.

He scrambles to his feet! Frantically searching for a blank piece of sheet music and a pencil, he pushes papers aside, opens drawers, checks shelves until finally! He finds a half-used piece of sheet music and a pen. Sitting at the piano he begins to capture the masterpiece he always wanted to write. The pen touches the paper but nothing happens.

It doesn't come to him! The melody is gone! The chords are disjointed, no longer flowing. He stares at measure twelve. Plays measure twelve. Fast. Slow. Nothing! The magic is gone. The brilliance of the measure fades.

The light has flickered out.

He sets aside his paper and pen, pulls the bench to the piano, and resumes practicing.