Henry shot up in his bed as he heard a loud noise. Holding his breath, he waited for the sound to begin again. But he heard nothing. Nothing except the birds chirping outside his window. Henry got up and walked over to the window. Pulling back the curtain, he squinted as the sunlight streamed into his eyes.

*Thud!* Henry stiffened. He knew someone was in his house! Reaching under his bed, he snatched up his Louisville Slugger Baseball Bat (so much quieter than shooting someone! If he shot the intruder, Mrs. VanWinkledorf-Smytherwaitheson would call and wail about how she was going to be murdered in her bed one day, and Henry did not want to deal with Mrs. VanWinkledorf-Smytherwaitheson right now…so the bat it was! Henry affectionately called it a “Terrific Alternative Neutralizer,” or “TAN” for short) and began to head down the stairs…his steps as soft as a bunny rabbit’s. He could hear soft noises coming from…the KITCHEN?! That intruder had better not be going anywhere near that tiramisu that he had waiting in the fridge! That was for dessert after the boubillaise he was serving tonight!

Henry followed the muffled noises and discovered a big, furry…something…standing in his kitchen!

“Drop it right there!” Henry yelled out in his best Intimidating Cop Voice (a voice that had made many a hardened criminal quake in his boots…and ask if maybe Darth Vader could interrogate him instead?) as he raised the Bat. “Don’t move; I’ve got a TAN!”

The Big Furry Something turned around. “I thought you’d never get up,” it said.

The Big Furry Something was a bear!

“A bear?” asked Henry incredulously, clutching the TAN until his knuckles were white. There was a bear in his kitchen! A talking bear, standing in his kitchen pulling something out of the toaster. Since when did bears- "Is that my Toaster Strudel?”

Call Animal Control. Right. Don’t aggravate. Don’t come between a bear and her cubs…wait. This is a male bear. Never mind.

“First of all,” said the Bear, dropping the Strudel onto a plate and waving its paw to cool it off, “you do not have a tan. You are probably one of the palest people in California.”

“I most certainly do have a TAN!” retorted Henry indignantly, hefting the TAN even higher. “This is a TAN: a Terrific Alternative Neutralizer. Far preferable to a gun when one doesn’t want to wake the Neighbors…you can talk?”

“I see,” said the Bear, munching the Strudel. “And of course I can talk. You’re always telling me to shut up. And what’s this about a bear?”

“You’re a bear,” said Henry.

“No, you’re a bear,” said the Bear, grinning. “’I, on the other hand, am a teddy bear.”

“Hey!” came a voice from behind Henry. He turned to see a giant Squirrel walk into his kitchen. An angry Squirrel, who glared at the Bear, jabbed a paw in the Bear’s face, and said, “You stole my ACORN-my Authentic, Color-Ordered Rothstar Nebula! You owe me a new one!”

“I didn’t touch your ACORN!” said the Bear defensively.

“A squirrel?!” Henry exclaimed. “What’s next, a dog?”

“Hmm, maybe,” said the Bear. “Wasn’t Lassie going to drop by?”

“Lassie?”

“Yeah,” said the Squirrel, ignoring Henry’s outburst. “But why did your dad call me a squirrel?”

“I don’t know, Gus,” said the Bear. “He thinks I’m a bear. And he came after me with that bat for eating his Toaster Strudel.” The Bear wiped the last remnants of the Strudel from his paws as he finished speaking.

“Shawn?” asked Henry.

“Yes!” exclaimed Shawn-The-Bear.

“Why are you a Teddy Bear?” said Henry.

“Because, Dad, I’m all cute and loveable and everyone wants to hug me,” replied Shawn-The-Bear.

“Wait a second,” said the Squirrel (who was Gus, apparently).

“What?” said Shawn-The-Bear.

“Mr. Spencer, did you take any medication after dinner last night?”

“Yes, I did,” replied Henry. “I was getting sniffly,” he added petulantly when Shawn-The-Bear and Gus-The-Squirrel stared at him.

“But I sneaked some into your drink because you never take meds!” exclaimed Shawn-The-Bear.

“But I sneaked some into his dessert because I knew neither of you take meds!” exclaimed Gus-The-Squirrel.

“Well, Dad,” said Shawn-The-Bear, opening the fridge, “that must be it. You’re hallucinating…oooh, what’s this?” He reached one furry paw in to investigate.

“Is that tiramisu?” asked Gus-The-Squirrel, peeking over Shawn-the-Bear’s shoulder for a closer look.

“Don’t you dare touch that tiramisu!” said Henry. “I don’t care if you’re a bear, I have a TAN!”

“Dad, you really need to stop calling that a TAN. It’s a baseball bat. And Mrs. VanWinkledorf-Smytherwaitheson isn’t that bad when you shoot off a gun…not that I would know anything about that…”

Suddenly, a parrot flew by, cawing loudly and dropping one pineapple-yellow feather onto Henry’s head.

“What the hell was that?” asked Henry.

“What was what?” asked Gus-The-Squirrel.

“The parrot!” said Henry.

“What parrot?” asked Shawn-The-Bear.

“The one that just flew by! He left this!” said Henry, waving the feather at Shawn-The-Bear.

“Ooh, pineapple! I don’t know what you’re talking about with the parrot, Dad. Maybe you should go back to bed.”

“Maybe I should,” said Henry. “But don’t touch that tiramisu.”

Leaving Shawn-The-Bear, Gus-The-Squirrel, and Whoever-the-hell-it-was-The-Parrot, Henry trudged back to bed, and snuggled down under his soft down comforter.

----------------------------

Henry shot up in his bed as he heard a loud noise. Holding his breath, he waited for the sound to begin again. But he heard nothing. Nothing except the birds chirping outside his window, and the squirrels chattering in the trees. Henry got up and walked over to the window. Pulling back the curtains (a soft, teddy-bear brown), he squinted as the sunlight streamed into his eyes.

*Thud!* Henry stiffened. As he listened, he heard the muffled sound of voices coming from downstairs. He rubbed his hand over his face as he trudged his way down the stairs.

“Shawn,” he bellowed, “you better not be eating my Toaster Strudel!”