reproze

 Not that I have much say in my expressions, though. Try as I might, I can never get any movement in my eyebrows; the corners of my mouth remain in a perma-state of a slight upturn. I did not choose to be born a sentient teddy bear. Being a misanthrope, however... Well, now, that I'll claim. I suppose it wasn't always like this. I lived with a little girl for a long time. When I first became aware of my surroundings, she was small and soft. I liked her because she physically couldn't do much damage and didn't seem to understand the woes of waking life. She smiled and cooed and sometimes grazed my arms or legs with her small, weak fingers. I remember thinking: "This thing is fine! This seems friendly." I only hated her when she drooled on me. My god, that thing could drool. But I became accustomed to her albeit soggy demeanor, and grew wary of her parents' grabby hands. All day long, these much taller people complained. Work-this, Work-that. What the hell is work? My friend and I just hang out in this crib all day and she doesn't seem to care much about anything except for when her parents leave for the day, for reasons unclear to me. But then, she started getting bigger. And I started wising up. She would throw me around; she would prop me up and punch me in the gut. I'm not sure what I ever did to her except for be a consistent and warm presence in her life... but, sure! Fine! Resort to violence! She got taller still and I started steaming with hatred. One day, a woman she referred to as her aunt came to visit. She was odd, this woman; she wore a paisley scarf and large jewel broaches. She took one look at me and sneered, revolted: "What is that thing?" The girl was twirling around the room at this point and I was bracing myself for impact. "That's Tebby!" She couldn't even say my goddamn name at that point. "Teddy has a malevolent spirit," said her aunt, wary. "There's something wrong with that bear." I was shocked. First of all: who IS this broad? And secondly... could she see me? The girl's mother laughed, "Mirna, you're a nut. It's a stuffed animal." IT, I thought, shooting bullets from my eyes at her turned back - and Mirna gasped, "Oh my god, Helen, that thing despises you." I stood perfectly still. Well... I mean - you know, I ALWAYS am perfectly still, but... stiller, even. Mirna kept her gaze locked on me. I did my best to soften my buttons, relax my demeanor. In doing so, the woman relaxed, too. "Well, I suppose you're right," she laughed. "I am a bit of a nut."