..sequel to the next story.

As it turns out, it wasn't me the brown bears and the black ones were after, it was their long-since nemissary george, who, in their own alternate domain of reality, had been my brother - from their helicopter displays you can see their version of history; from their point of view, their helicopter displays show ours.  Rather than parachuting , or paratrooping one might say, down to the ground, they extended long-handed metal thugs - a thug, as you will, is a cross between a stud and a lug - down to the ground and walked on them much like stilts (much unlike, you might say, the way bricks don't).  The stilts, however, were ever-decreasing in diametre; diametre, here, means diametricality, as in, diametrical to the surface of the Earth; that is to say, they were ever-shrinking, as if being further enveloped in a swamp land sold to them by who appeared, in their version of reality, to be a legit Russian banker.

But back to the beginning - George, you might say - Or Will, well, the two are alternate names for the same well-been being - wore a brown Tanuki suit and often complained of metal frogs; the metal frogs, you see, would get in his craw.  The laser-zapping brown bears, so called because of their laser-zapping predilections, diliged to laser-zap George in the very craw of which he had once been so wary; so went his fortune.  But you can't take it with you, they say, but you are what you eat so maybe you can.

George was unhappy about this, and suc [sic] his girlfriend Raggedy-Anne on the brown and the black bears (the black bears, have you, were innocent, but all's fair in diligere and bellum, or was that bunkum and Bel-Air), but as she was made primarily of yarn and straw, all she could do was a little dance and draw, a draw which the black bears succeeded but to which the brown bears balked, as they did have the upper hand - or the upper paw, as the case may be.  Or upper paws, as each bear has two paws, if you only count the upper paws (otherwise 2 if you count the lower paws instead), which, often, can be rendered backwards as swap.

Alas, ineffective was little Raggedy-Anne forming a draw, or any other kind of fight or flight, for dolls cannot uphold flight, lest it be, mayhaps, a flight of fancy.  George ran down a water draining hole, leaving Anne behind, knowing that she would soon find her way back.. for it was not Anne that the cops or copters were after.  George, now, sits deep within his bunker underground, taping his tapestry back together, for Anne.. for Anne.. forever for Anne.  Oh, Annie.