fandomtownies | The Streets of Town, Tuesday Afternoon

There were bears in the streets of town today. Polar bears, yes, armed with bottles of Coca-Cola with spreading cheer and carbonated beverages in mind. But they weren't the only ones prowling Fandom Island's walkways, lumbering about and growling at people and seeking out picnic baskets or honey pots, or maybe just the bear necessities of life.

Of course, the fact that the two grumpy bears that were making their way down Fandom's streets weren't usually bears didn't occur to Jono or Max. And neither did the possibility that their cranky mid-winter prowling (in Chicago Bears jerseys, because bear costumes aren't easy to find this time of year) might be caught on film for blackmail material later. All they cared about was that it was December, it was cold, they were hungry, and they were well overdue for some good old-fashioned hibernating. So, as soon as they found maybe a bowl of porridge that was just right, they'd find a cave somewhere and go back to sleep, and be out of everybody's hair.

Grrr.

[Open! With some SP in mind for being-at-work-ness, but we kinda had to.]

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Being a bear was great. You could wear a Bears jersey with a fuzzy winter hat and sunglasses and it was totally in style, you could lumber around with a bear pal at your side and not have to make any pesky conversation, and you could even point and growl loudly at one of those upstart polar bears who thought it was okay to steal another bear's territory and try to be all cute about it.

Grr, polar bear. Grr.

Grrr. The blue-grey bear (who had a picture on his chest, and might, in fact, be a defective Care Bear or something) really had to agree with that sentiment. After all, what good were polar bears if they couldn't be growled at? Clearly, if they were going to be prowling on the grumpy bears' turf, they were either going to have to shape up, share their bottles of Coke, or ship out. There had to be an iceberg somewhere that they could catch outta here, right?

Real bears didn't need to bribe people with soft drink in order to get people to like them. Wasn't that right, brother bear?

It was! It was totally right. Hear that grunting coming from your fellow bear, Care Bear? That was agreement.

Max-the-bear thumped his chest, then growled once more at a polar bear before turning his head toward Jono. It was time to get serious about these upstart invaders once and for all, wasn't it?

By which he meant... steal one of those Coke bottles. All this growling made a bear thirsty.

It was true, being a ferocious grizzly really was hard on the vocal cords, wasn't it? Jono-the-bear nodded his big, totally-just-like-a-bear head, and then lumbered over to the nearest polar bear, letting him know in no uncertain terms in a series of grunts and growls that it was going to be his cola or his life.

... The polar bear shrugged and handed him the bottle. The Coke was for giving away anyhow, after all.

Jono-bear gave a very satisfied nod in Max's direction, as if to say, 'There, that's how it's done.'

Max's grunted response to that was a very jealous one, which was why he set off to show off just who was the tougher bear here by growling at the polar bear some more. As the bear reached out to hand him a Coke, Max decided that wasn't good enough, grunted some more, and head-butted him.

Gently, which non-bear-Max would appreciate in the morning, but still. Normal people did not just headbutt bears.

With that, he snatched up the Coke, pawed at the neck of it until the lid came off, and enjoyed a refreshing swig.

Even the Jono-bear had to concede that that was, in fact, a job well done, and he snuffled his approval while pawing the lid off of his own coke. Bear claws were clearly not made for that sort of fine motor control, so it baffled him, at least momentarily, that he opened the thing far more quickly than he'd expected to.

The polar bears that were staring at them like they'd lost their minds didn't seem all so surprised about the ease with which he opened the bottle, but that wasn't going to stop Jono from growling a 'what are you looking at' in bear-ese that had them snorting and looking away, totally casually. Possibly afraid that lunacy was contagious.

Karla had been heading to Jono's to get the scolding she knew was coming. She'd expected the growling--though not the target. She'd expected the coke, having dealt with the polar bears before.

She was not expecting Jono and...the other guy...to be shambling. Or grunting. Or--did that guy just headbutt a bear?

It had been a mighty headbutt and had put that polar bear in its place, hadn't it?

It probably really was helpful that these polar bears were friendly, yeah.

Jono contented himself, for a while, with flopping down to take a seat right there on the ground to drink his Coke. What better place to do so? And standing up was hard work.

So, yeah. Jono, sitting on the side of the road, holding a bottle of soda between two big, awkward paws (well, they were big, at least?) and occasionally making a 'snurfle' sound that indicated that he was pretty satisfied, for a bear. Enjoy that scene laid out before you, Karla. Jonothon was probably going to fly to New York to try to ride out the mortification as soon as the venom wore off.

As a good friend, there was only one thing to do in this situation: pull out her phone and start recording. While speaking in a faux-Australian accent.

"What we 'ave 'ere are two wild gremlin-bit males in their natural 'abitat," she intoned. "Crikey! Look at their displays. Must be some kind of awkward mating behavior, wot?"

The Streets of Town, Tuesday Afternoon

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