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Bath Time for Pudgie

September 19, 2012

It was bath time for Pudgie,

But Pudgie would not budge.

Soap and water weren’t welcome.

He held quite a grudge.

“Why should I be clean?”

He asked Mama Bear.

She replied, “Dirt brings germs.

You’d better beware.”

“I don’t care about germs,

I don’t care about muck.”

“I’d rather be sticky,

Than clean and unstuck.”

“One day you will learn,”

Said dear Mama Bear,

As she grabbed an old brush

And tried brushing his hair.

The hair on his head

Was all hardened with honey

That he received in a trade

For carrots with Ben Bunny.

“Oh, go outside then and play.

This brush does no good.”

This was just what Pudgie wanted,

As any baby bear would.

“I don’t care if I’m dirty.

I don’t care if I stink.”

Then he headed to the stream

To get him a drink.

“Water’s for drinking,”

“Not for cleaning one’s fur.

I’ll never be bathed.

No, not me! Never! No sir!”

So, for days he did go,

And Pudgie got smelly.

Bugs stuck to his fur.

Grass clung to his belly.

And Mama Bear daily

Said “You’ll learn your lesson,

And sooner than later,

Is what I am guessin’.”

He heeded her little,

But went about his ways

Of dirtier nights,

And smellier days.

He rolled in the mud,

He jumped in the muck.

How he avoided disease

Was pure, dumb, blind luck.

Ben Bunny came to visit

One hot summer day.

“Hey Pudgie, I’m bored.

Do you want to go play?”

Of course Pudgie wanted

To play with Ben Bunny.

He was his best friend

And he gave him sweet honey.

Pudgie had carrots

And cabbage to trade,

So they gathered their things

And went to the glade.

Away they did go

To the glade’s sparkling stream.

The heat got much hotter,

As the sun brightly beamed.

“It sure is a hot one,”

Said fuzzy brown Ben

“The stream looks much cooler.

I think I’ll jump in!”

Pudgie said, “I’m not going.

“I’ll lose all my dirt.

You go and jump in,

But don’t get yourself hurt!”

Ben hopped in and exclaimed,

“Come on! The water’s fine!”

Pudgie replied, “It’s all yours.

The honey’s all mine!”

He soon started drinking

From the big honey pot,

But soon the big pot

Was where honey was not.

The honey he wanted

So very much to eat

Had gone everywhere,

From his head to his feet.

He was covered in stick.

He was quilted with stuck.

He was coated in yick.

He was smothered with yuck.

When out of nowhere,

From the faraway trees,

Came the swarming and buzzing

Of hundreds of bees!

They wanted their honey.

It was theirs after all.

They worked to create it,

These bees, big and small.

They started to sting him.

He jumped in the stream.

Some bees even followed him!

Boy! These bees were mean!

He jumped from the stream

And ran all the way home.

He was crying and shouting,

“Bees! Leave me alone!”

He reached his front door

And shut out the drones

Of the hundreds of bees

That stung all of his bones.

“Mama! Bring soap!

“All the soap you can find!

I want a clean face,

Head, back and behind!”

He scrubbed and he scrubbed,

‘Til his paws were all pruned,

‘Til every last trace

Of his dirt had been ruined.

When finally clean

Pudgie said to Mama Bear,

“I’ll stay clean forever!

Germs better beware!”

The moral, dear reader,

From Pudgie, we’ve learned,

Is wash up and stay clean

‘Cause bee stings can burn!


From → Short stories

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