Clover Honey

The other day, I took an afternoon constitutional through the Mission District. The sun shone, the wind blue, and the only homeless creature I encountered  was a pink Teddy Bear named Earl. He was a sight for sore eyes; all stain and cigarette smoke and a chest full of empty threads that once held buttons.

I spoke with Earl about what got him into this dire predicament.

“First, do you have any honey?”

Well, for those who know me, know that I always carry at least 3 ounces of honey on my person on any given day. I nodded and gave him the honey. He opened the small glass jar and sniffed it, “Smells good. Clover, I like clover.” He stuck his dirty paw in the jar, then brought the contents to his bear lips, “Yep, that’s the stuff. Alright do you wanna know how a cute fluffy bear like me ended up propped up the side of a fence on Portero Boulevard?” I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was no longer cute, or fluffy, and that he really smelled that eggs and old pickles, but who I am I to judge?

“I’ve never been a great Teddy Bear. My younger years I always found myself running away from little girls and hiding out in yard sales only to get picked up again. The life of a toy, wasn’t for me see? I had dreams, aspirations, desires to do something big in life. I decided to become a chef.  I got myself enrolled in El Cordon Blue, graduated early- top of my class no less. Thought I’d open up my own resertant, “Bare Teddy”. I specialized in fresh, local, organic, free range, non-hormoned, pork and beans. I was a hit! The SF  weekly wrote me up 17 times, amazing since I only served two items. I was doing well, I got myself a wife, and a couple kids. Life was good until till I met this hot little number who was waiting tables for me. I got myself an undesiredable sexual merit badge, and my wife kicked me out. Things went down hill from there. I lost my desire to cook and I started slopping up the stuff in the can to the customers. Word spread and my doors closed within a week. That hot little number who seemed so worth it let me stay on her couch long enough to get a taste for the white horse and before I know it I’m talking to you, sitting in my own filth a block away from the alley behind the Pho99 I now call my home.”

He stopped. Took another lick of his honey. I gently said, “You can always go back to the toy box. I bet your machine washable.”

“I’m to far gone, even Downy Bear can’t wash away my sins.” He got up and walked away from me. Under his breath I could hear him say, “Clover honey, damn that’s the stuff.”

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~ by ambur on July 4, 2010.

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