Teddy bears
As a young lad, I loved my teddy bears rather alot. Perhaps to much for a boy. I remember getting home from school one day, aged six, to see a pair of feet sticking out of the bin. It was my fairly new evil wearbear (remember them?)who despite always using as a baddie, I loved.

Instant culprit was the sister, so I ran to tell on her, yet she had a alabi. Whole day at school, left and arived with me. My dear old dad looked down and said "Oh, that was me, I didn't realise you still played with it, sorry son." I fish him out, and all is well. Fast forward a few months, I, now age 7 come home to find my room empty of all my teddybears. No wearbears, no crappy baloon bear, no fofo, no yellow ted. YELLOW TED FFS! He was my favorite toy up until I was 6, and even after that he was my special friend who comforted me when somthing bad happened. I tore the house appart looking, I was frantic.

My father looks slightly less far down and informs me that my bears have a new home, at the tip. I was gutted, not only were they gone, but I, aged 7, would rather they had gone to a loving home rather then a land fill. The reason? "They annoyed me, running around all day!" Every time I asked, it was the same reason, untill one day, I asked him when he was drunk. His answer was this. "I didn't want a gay son."

This morning, he fell off the conservetry roof and cracked a bone in his pelvis. I looked after him, got him water, kept him from passing out, supported his 16 stone frame into the house, cleaned his wounds, changed his shirt, helped him out of his boots and waited for an ambulance with him. At hospital, I halped him change his jeans.

Had I remembered this stunt, I may not have bothered.

For the record, I didn't turn out gay! Though I do love kittens, puppies, babies, reading quietly and I despise sport.
(Mong goose, Thu 14 Aug 2008, 23:55, Reply)