you know those easter bunny chocolates in gold,
That get re-packaged as reindeer for Christmas, think they're lindt or something, well today I got given one of those shaped like a bear. A sort of downsy bear.
/poor anecdote
( Windy Pig I'm naturally quite suspicious about the moon., Thu 29 Dec 2011, 19:51, 1 reply, 14 years ago)

That reminds me.
When I was holidaying in Scotland once, by the banks of Loch Lomond in fact, I found myself in a pub which had many stuffed animals in it. A rather macabre form of decoration, but it was 11 o' clock in the morning and no other pub for miles around.

The barman was a sullen and decrepit old man, I could tell by his accent that he was from the lowlands- a distinct Dumfriesshire twang pervaded his speech patterns, but it wasn't this that marked him out as an outsider- the toupee upon his head and his ridiculous moustache, perched precariously above his crooked and pouting moue gave truth to his status as a clear sore thumb.

After sipping my morning malt, I looked around the dark and gloomy inn to see if any other human life apart from me and the alarming barman was to be found.

In this, I was disappointed.

The barman coughed, scraped his left foot against the floor and drew my attention to the most striking of the taxidermical specimens, a six foot tall stuffed brown bear, growling menacingly beside the front door.

"Yon bear belonged to a local man, a right sad story so it is"

The bewigged innkeeper started his tale.

Towards the end of the 18th century, in the wilds of Scottish Highlands, it wasn't uncommon for people to keep peculiar pets. James Flint was a man who had lived for his entire life by Loch Lomond, eking out a living from fishing in the summer months and woodcutting in the winter. His father had explored America, and when he returned to Scotland, brought with him a brown bear cub, which the 8 year old James took an instant shine to.

Over the next 15 years, James and his bear were inseperable. The bear was extremely well behaved, and in many respects, apart from its size, was no different in temperament to a pet dog. Then, in James's 24th year, stories began to circulate in the area about livestock going missing, herds of sheep being slaughtered in their fields and farmers finding themselves at the edge of their means as a result of these attacks.

In his village, tongues started to wag and fingers started to point.

James was called before the factor and the local Sheriff. He swore to keep his bear locked up at night, on pain of jailing and the killing of his beloved pet.

The livestock killings continued, though his bear was chained up.

He was returned to the Sheriff, and the final sanction was imposed.

James had to watch as angry villagers, armed with farming implements, took his beloved bear to pieces before him.

In the depth of his grief at the unfairness and loss of his gentle, near lifelong friend, he cursed the village and all her inhabitants. He placed a curse upon their future generations, bringing deformity and horror to them, as they had brought death and horror to his companion.

And that is why, to this very day, every newborn baby in the village is born with bear feet.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 20:15, Reply)

: I

( girlinthehole, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 20:20, Reply)

wut?

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 20:20, Reply)

A bit random.

( girlinthehole, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 20:24, Reply)

He mentioned bears.
So I told a story about a bear.

NOT random.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 20:24, Reply)

Ok not random, strange.

( girlinthehole, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 20:27, Reply)

Did you like it?
Obviously it is better to tell it verbally due to the final line.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 20:29, Reply)

*shrugs*
It's ok.
( girlinthehole, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 20:35, Reply)