By: Robbie McMichael

BLOOMINGTON, IN – There I was, enjoying a typical evening at Mother Bear’s, when as I was reading the scrawny handwriting on the back of the booths, my eye caught the window. On that window I saw the restaurant’s logo. More than the logo, I saw Mother Bear’s massive rack. And I felt things. I felt confusion, betrayal, but most of all, I felt horny. Horny for a cartoon bear.

I know what you’re thinking—this isn’t some furry shit. This is not a pattern of behaviors. I just glanced over and knew I wanted to serve Mother Bear a hefty slice of extra sausage pizza, but soon this lust turned into something much deeper.

This moment led me on a long mental journey which spanned many months. My every waking thought revolved around that voluptuous Mother Bear. Why are her bear-boobs so big? Why does this logo have sideboob? Don’t bears have several nipples? Is that an apron or a dress? Then the questions turned more personal. Why is she a Mother? Is there a Father Bear? What about a Baby Bear?

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, and decided to do some investigating. I found that Father Bear actually lives down 3rd at the Ale House. It’s depressingly typical. A man finds a beautiful, talented woman and forgets her for the bottle….Not to mention the children! With Father Bear at the bar every day and night and Mother Bear working to support the family, who is raising the children?

Well, Mother Bear, if you’re reading this, I care. I would love to join your family. I would happily stay at home, and look after the children unlike that parasite of a husband. I will give you a slice of commitment, with extra love.