I meant to leave a couple days ago for Tennessee, but as I was readying my unicycle, I received a most considerate offer from a chap across the pond named Heir Bear.
To make a long story short, his great uncle Sir Millionaire Bear was a honey magnate in England. Upon his death, through some legal fiddle-faddle, the Queen expropriated his apiaries.
I’m not sure how he found me of all bears, but Heir Bear offered to cut me in on a sizeable portion of the honey yield if I would help finance his lawsuit by transferring the deeds to a couple thousand acres of Warren County’s forests to his financial institution of choice, Bear Stearns.
Needless to say, I leapt at the opportunity. As I landed, my foot sunk into a groundhog hole, spraining my ankle.
I was not displeased because I knew this would warrant a visit from the very lovely Dr. Mary Bear. Now I’m not one to let my mouth run, though I must convey that Mary harvested a sweet batch of honey whilst I pollinated her flower.
Later on, as the orchestra swelled, she shed a few tears and promised to wait for me to return from my deployment to Tennessee so that we could be wed.
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