Baby Bear Eats The Night!

Zoe here, readin' and stampedin'!

Hiya, Friends!

 I just read a book I got from the Amazon.com called Baby Bear Eats the Night.  It's about a little bear cub who's afraid of the dark and all the sounds in the dark, so he takes his claws and slices the night out of the sky and then EATS it!  How about that?

What's that? ... Um, no, I wouldn't call it "magical realism," really.  The animals of the forest in Baby Bear talk to each other.  I could be wrong, but from my experience with my domesticated dog Rozzie, animals don't articulate their thoughts in words like we know them.  The have ways of communicating, but not in formed words like we do.  So I'd hafta classify Baby Bear Eats the Night as maybe fantasy?

Does it really matter?  It's a really good book, and I'm trying to tell you about it!  Does it matter whether it's magical realism or fantasy or the farm report, for Pete's Aches?  You know what I really dislike, Friends?  When somebody's telling a story, and somebody else interrupts them to quibble over unimportant details.  For instance, if I were talking about this kid I know, who spilled chocolate milk on his blue shirt, and you interrupted me and said "are you sure he was wearing a blue shirt and not a red shirt," and I said "well, I thought it was blue, but maybe I'm thinking of a different day," and you said "I'm pretty sure it's a red shirt, because I don't like kitties," and I say "what does that even hafta do with anything?"  And then it turns out the boy who spilled chocolate milk WAS wearing a blue shirt, just like I said in the first place.  Holy frap.  That is one of those things that just gets my diaper all in a twist, people like that.

What was I talking about?

Oh yeah!  Baby Bear eating the night!  Anyway, when Baby Bear slices the night off its perch, it falls to the ground in a light, cool ribbon, and he starts to eat it.  When I read that, I imagined it fell from the sky and felt much like one of my play-silks.  They're light and cool.  And I bet the night tasted just like blueberry-flavored water ice.  That'd be an appropriate flavor for Night, don'tcha think, Friends?

Well, Baby Bear's decision to eat the night is unpopular among his woodland friends such as Firefly, Bat, and Field Mouse, so those guys go wake up Mama Bear, and she comes and stops Baby Bear from eating the night and explains to him how necessary the night is for everybody's health and well-being, and Baby Bear realizes the error of his ways, but the thing of it is, he ATE the night, so what's a little bear to do?

Baby Bear burps back out the night.  How about that?!

Baby Bear's woodland friends help him out by tickling his feet and his nose, and Mama Bear burps him, and UUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRP!  There comes the night, none the worse for wear, for having been eaten, and Bat takes it up to the sky and hangs it back up.  I guess that's the part where ya hafta suspend your disbelief, on accounta how I remember what it usedta be like when I'd hafta be burped, and I don't think in reality, Bat would wanna touch that night Baby Bear burped up, not until Mama Bear  had a chance to put the night through the washer on gentle cycle, two rinses.

...What?  I'm not being gross!  It wasn't my idea to write a book about a little bear who eats the night then burps it back up!  But I'll tellya what!  I sure had a messier solution to the whole works built up in my head, so I was glad the real book ended like it did!

So that's that, Friends!  I'll see ya tomorrow, but in the meantime, nobody eat the night!  We need the night, and we're not in a cute little book, so after you eat the night, it won't be as cute or mess-free as it was for Baby Bear to get the night back.  Just sayin'.  You oughtta get a little dish of blueberry water ice for yourself if you're hungry tonight.

Mmmmkay, Friends!  I love ya!  Muah!