Howie's Story

Mrs. Stanton was sick. She was probably the 12th or maybe third person in the village to get the bug but the Mom was a longtime friend and it warranted an intimate visit to her house. Because somehow seeing people face-to-face when she looked all scraggly and disease-ridden was supposed to make Mrs. Stanton not only feel better but also suddenly make her not contagious and crap. Was Howie the only one worried about the repercussions of entering this toxic environment? He looked up at the Mom from where she walked ahead, a large, steaming basket - with soup and biscuits nestled inside under the cloth - slung over her arm and held steady with the other hand, a righteous and loving smile on her face. Yeah, no, definitely not worried; the woman was on a mission and refused to hear Howie out about the dangers of caring for people infected with unnamed and mysterious illnesses. She'd refused to allow them all to wear masks before leaving the house.

Crazy broad, Howie shook his head and glanced sideways at the Girl who walked beside him. She too carried a basket, this one much smaller and filled with cookies under the cloth. Howie wasn't allowed to touch it because he proved he couldn't be trusted with handling the sweets. Well, sue him for making sure nothing was poison before they started giving stuff away to an already ill person! These people had no practical sense at all! But no, Howie was the only one truly worried about this contamination issue and he sighed heavily before subtly covering his snout with the edge of the grey scarf wrapped around his neck - screw these wackos; he was not going to get sick!

He brought up the rear pulling along a small beat up wagon loaded with an old, junkie Air Stabilizing Unit that they were gonna loan Mrs. Stanton so the old woman could get rid of the musty-ass air in her house which was probably the reason she got sick in the first place - seriously and they were gonna go into this place??? Where was an apothecary when you needed him? The road was choked of moisture, all superfluous dust cleared away and leaving several rocks poking through the ground that jammed the wheels occasionally and rocked the wagon treacherously. It wasn't bad enough that Howie was the shortest, standing at only 3 feet tall, but they had to give him the toughest job too. Not that he'd complain about it too much but still, it was a pain in his fuzzy ass and his paws hurt from stepping on pointy stones.

Oh, did he mention that? Howie was a teddy bear. That's right, one of those fuzzy, vaguely bear looking stuffed animal type things. Yeah. His head was bulbous, connected to a plump body where his stomach, chest and hips all kinda blended into one mass, with stubby, cylinder shaped arms and legs situated in the appropriate places. Small, half-circle ears sat atop his head on either side, his eyes were brown, glassy balls and there was a round snout that stuck out from the rest of his face about an inch or two, mounted by a tiny, smoothly rounded and black upside down triangle. His lips were bisected by a curved fold coming down from his nose and his mouth was just a toothless, fuzzy hole below it.

Yep, a teddy bear. He hadn't always been full of fluff and stuff, though. Once he'd had a heart of blood and muscle just like the Mom and the Girl. It'd been a long time ago and it was a long story but the short version: Howard used to be a guard in the capital city. A noble, honorable man, tall, with broad shoulders, a gut that was totally all muscle, and arms that could wield his massive battleaxe with the ease of a gymnast twirling a girly baton. Except more manly and scary. One day, he got caught up in a bad situation and ended up pissing off the King, Constantine, who just happened to be a wizard and pompous ass, in addition to the royalty thing. Dragged before the King, bound and gagged, Howie had been forced to answer for his crimes and Constantine said, "Howard? You're a really great guy who's put in many years of loyal service to me and my kingdom and for that, I'm not even going to listen to any silly explanations you might have for crossing me in the bizarrely out of character way that you have. I'm just going to transform you into a stuffed animal because I'm a really big dick." He totally said that. No lie.

Anyway, Howie was then sold as a novelty toy, finding his way to this village before eventually regaining the ability to speak and move. Unfortunately... the spell never wore off any further and he'd been stuck as a bear ever since. Not only that but things in his new home were progressively getting worse. Looking around, the sky was in a constant state of threat, overcast and moody but it rarely rained. The economy of the town was going down due to inexplicable bouts of madness in the livestock and insatiable pests eating at the crops. Plus, people kept getting randomly sick for no reason, a sickness that started small and progressively tore the body down before leaving corpses behind. Everyone said the village was cursed but Howie thought someone should explore the "hygiene" option before jumping to ridiculous conclusions. What? A water shortage meant some people weren't taking showers, didn't it?

With his wagon bumping along behind him, Howie noticed an old rickety wood and iron playground they passed and a small smile blossomed on his face. Letting his scarf drop off his nose, he walked a bit closer to the Girl and with a wary eye watching the Mom, he whispered to her, "Okay, here's the plan. As soon as we get there and the She-Devil starts the introductions, while they're distracted, we leave the junk machine and slip away. We'll hide out in that jungle gym over there and enjoy the basket of cookies while we wait for the She-Devil to come by on the way home." Despite his looks, Howie retained the voice he had as a man, deep and slightly graveled. "I call it, 'Operation Snack Time Not Sick Time' or STNST for short."

Bree could care less about Mrs.Stanton or her condition. The old hag has never been anything but rude to Bree, always saying children should be seen and not heard; Wich isnt accurate at all considering Bree is ten now and doesnt consider herself a child. Mom happened to be the only one who even wanted to go see her, even Howie thought visiting a sick woman a ridiculously bad idea. She sighs out her annoyance as she dutifully carries the small basket of cookies. Mom entrusted them to her only after making her promise not to eat any or give them to Howie. At the time that seemed an easy thing to do. Now however the smell of the cookies wafting up from the basket is causing her mouth to water and stomach to garble out a plea for a single bite.

She glances up at Mom then back at Howie who is pulling up the rear. She falls back a few steps just as he pulls closer. Bree doesn't understand why Howie has to pull the wagon. Hes the smallest so it makes little sense in Bree's mind. She glances nervously at Mom to make sure she's not paying attention to them.

"Okay, here's the plan. As soon as we get there and the She-Devil starts the introductions, while they're distracted, we leave the junk machine and slip away. We'll hide out in that jungle gym over there and enjoy the basket of cookies while we wait for the She-Devil to come by on the way home." Bree hides her smile from Moms view by her hand. Of course Howie has a plan, he always does. Even way back when Howie came to live with them he always found ways to make mischief happen. Without Howie Bree could only imagine what her life would be like - boring.

"I call it, 'Operation Snack Time Not Sick Time' or STNST for short." Bree nods her head slightly as to not draw Moms attention. Bree smoothes out her summer dress - the one that always makes her itchy after wearing it - and parts her pink gloss coated lips yo whisper back. "Sounds like a good plan to me," she replies, her voice softer than one would imagine with an almost shy edge in her tone. She looks back to the gravelly road ahead of her. Its not hard to imagine why people here often became sick or depressed.

An almost dreary gray color seeped into everything. The roads are cracked remnants having not been repaired in all the years Bree has been alive. Houses fell to shambles around their residence due to the lack of currency. Not to mention the amount of people without fresh food or water to sustain them. Bree tries to not let these things get her down but its hard to ignore what's around her. Even the sky seems sick with its ever changing moods and lack of rain.

Mrs. Stantons house is in view now. Its a basic home not unlike the one Bree calls home. Only Mrs.Stanton has never saw it fit to repair anything on the outside. The ugly yellow color has began fading and there's a wide crack in one of the front windows that splits it in half. As they close the distance Bree refrains from pinching her nose in disgust. Mrs.Stantons home always smells of mildew and rot; probably the reason for her illness. Bree looks at Howie and makes a gagging motion while Mom isn't looking. Bree quits when Mom starts speaking.

"Now Breanna, you must remember to be quiet unless spoken too. Its very rude to talk while the adults are talking," Mom says. Bree bites her tongue from replying snidely. She hates Moms etiquette rules more than she hates being called a child. "Yes Mother," Bree grits out through clenched teeth. She waits impatiently for Mrs. Stanton to open her front door.

That was his girl! A fuzzy smile blossomed on Howie's face when he heard Bree's assent to his plan. Not that he expected any less from his partner in crime. He could always count on her to be ready and willing for another risky adventure or out of bounds foray, whether it was founded on good judgement or not - hey, he didn't always have good ideas; he wasn't gonna lie. At least he never had to suffer through the consequences alone! The gal had spunk, no doubt about it.

As they approached the door of Mrs. Stanton's house, Howie responded to Bree's gagging motions with his own exaggerated miming of whoozy, wobbling, choking sudden death - which was totally appropriate because the house reeked within a few meters of it's actual foundations. He barely recovered in time before the Mom was turning towards them to give her daughter one last urging for manners. Even so, Howie got a stern look from her anyway, which he returned with a silent 'what did I do?' shrug and innocent look. Honestly, he got no respect from the woman at all!

Pushing the button next to the door, a ringing that sounded like a dying scream could be heard echoing past the threshold. A muffled, reedy voice called from within and the Mom took the initiative to press the latch of the door and push it gently open while calling inside. "Mrs. Stanton? It's Rachel Craft and Breanna... and Howie." Why'd she have to say it like that? Why did she hafta say his name like a warning? As the space of the doorway grew wider a sudden river of cats came flooding from the gap.

"Be careful not to let the cats out!" an elderly voice called from inside as a dozen or so frantic felines sped past the Mom's and the Girl's legs, blossoming like a whiskered flower past Howie and into the town. While the Mom gave out an exclamation and turned this way and that, unsure of whether to focus on closing the door or gathering the cats before they got away, Howie grabbed ahold of the Girl's hand and tugged her as they ran back the way they came, blending with the chaotic meowing hoard and leaving the wagon and the smelly house behind.

Finally they came to a jogged stop when they reached the old park, Howie giving a graveled laugh and turning to his BFF with his mitten-like paw held out for a high five. "Yeah-ha! That was perfect! Operation STNST was a success!" After slapping their hands together and then proceeding with the small ritualistic secret handshake they had, ending with a bump of their hips - which he called the "booty hug" - he led them both over the graying, dead grass to the decaying jungle gym. "Did that swarm look larger to you this time? I tell ya, if anybody was confused about that woman's health issues, there's yer clue right there. Am'iright?" Only when he was halfway up climbing the iron skeleton jungle gym did he stop to turn and ask, "Hey, ya still got those cookies, right?"

The overwhelming swarm of felines nearly carries Bree away. She spares a single glare to Mom for letting out this swarm of diseased pets. She of course sees this as their chance and allows Howie to lead her along. Once or twice she nearly looses her grasp on the basket of cookies. Howie leads them to the dying remnant of a park. "Yeah-ha! That was perfect! Operation STNST was a success!"  Full of glee at the grand escape Bree returns the ritualistic handshake with an enthusiastic smile on her lips. Then Bree turns and stares at the rusty death trap with a tiny smile. How long had it been since any child sat upon this almost historic play set? Would she be the first in years or days? "Did that swarm look larger to you this time? I tell ya, if anybody was confused about that woman's health issues, there's yer clue right there. Am'iright?" Howie pulls Bree from her musings. She laughs wildly at the question.

"It certainly had a few new additions in it. I can't believe she keeps so many of those flea ridden pests around." She quells her laughter as she climbs up behind Howie. Howie stops and turns back halfway up "Hey, ya still got those cookies, right?" Oh yes, Bree had nearly forgotten she was carrying them. She uses one hand to keep ahold of the metal while lifting the tiny cloth covering the cookies from view to make sure none had fallen.

"All here," she reports. She drops the cloth and climbs the rest of the way up. She hesitates before sitting. From this view she can see nearly evey house in the surrounding residential area. A tiny flickering of light catches her eye as it weaves through a back street. Though she's curious she turns away to sit down. Her legs hang over the side of the jungle gym while she sets the basket of cookies beside her.

"I bet Moms face will turn red when she finds us here," Bree says with a giggle. She could imagine it already. Bree leans back on her elbows to peer through a hole in the decaying top of the jungle gym. The sky suggests a storm is brewing. With its swirly clouds highlighted with gray blue light. For some reason it strikes Bree as odd to see the sky like this. She isn't particular superstitious but she can't deny a feeling of change in the air.

"Its good to be away from all the rules," Bree says to shake off the strange feeling. She takes one of the cookies and nibbles away happily.

Howie let out a small groan of relief when he plopped his fuzzy bottom onto the wooden floor of the jungle gym and pulled the basket of cookies over, practically into his lap. Uncovering the goods with a bright smile, he let out a humored snort in response to Bree's comment before digging in with relish. "Hey, tell me about it! We got her good! Can she really blame us, though? That She-Devil might be irritatin' and stubborn as all get out but the lady knows how to make a damn fine cookie! Not our fault that we can't resist temptation." Shoving one of the crispy morsels into his mouth whole, Howie groaned again in delight. "Oh, Light!" he cursed good-naturedly. "That hits the spot!" And that one was followed by another and another and another.

Chewing loudly, Howie glanced over at Bree and nodded at her comment, for the first time looking at their surroundings. It was a pretty good hideout and actually mostly isolated from the surrounding houses. The structure was bare bones, metal bars holding old graying pieces of wood together in a similitude of a castle's skeleton, with tiered platforms going up to small towers from which extended multiple metal tongue-slides. Most of the "walls" had broken in, leaving only open spaces between the bars, but the particular little "room" they found themselves in had 2 walls still intact. The third wall was manned by a slide almost completely the color orange from the rust eating away at it, with several uneven holes where time and weather had each taken a few bites.

Honestly, it was a dump. But ever since coming to live with Bree, Howie had grown to appreciate the world from the viewpoint of a child. What was most certainly a deathtrap had turned into a haven full of wonder and adventure, a place for them to explore and hide away from expectations and responsibilities. Looking around at the town seen just beyond the confines of their little tower, Howie agreed the kid could use a little escape from reality. Lord knew she had to deal with enough.

Those somber thoughts brought up more distressing ones as he considered the reason the playground was abandoned. There were barely any kids in town left since the mysterious plague taking over the town had attacked the youngest and oldest citizens first. Yeah, okay, all jokes aside about hygiene and crap, with everything else going on, if it was a curse, there weren't a lot of ways to help those who caught the illness. Howie chewed on his current cookie and looked silently at Bree for a moment.

Not wanting her to catch his mood, the bear shook himself out of it and finished his cookie. Noticing a small metal wheel drilled into the wall, he grinned and hopped over to it. It was really loosely screwed in, the wood around it having worn away over the ages from being spun too many times. Even so, Howie gave it a hearty slap and spun it around, ringing wildly with a soft metallic complaint at the treatment.

"Hey, Bree! Lookit this thing!" Then a light went on in his eyes. "Oh! We're not just rebels and cookie thieves! We're pirates!" Turning around dramatically, with his hands on his hips, he got into character, stomping around the small space with a small limp. "I'm Captain Fuzzy Beard, a true swashbucklin' bastard if there ever was one and this is my ship, 'Nautical Claw'! Check out my peg leg! Hey, don't point and laugh, though. I lost my leg in a volcano accident on a deserted island with my cousin and I'm very sensitive about it."

Pretending to take a sword from his "belt", Howie made a few steps, expertly enacted from his years training with weapons, before shoving it back into it's sheath at his hip, making the small noise with his mouth. Standing grandly before her, he tipped his finely plumed hat and pointed at the basket of cookies. "That'll be our booty, okay? Hey, whattya say? Got yer sea legs, first mate?" He could practically smell the ocean in the air and hear the waves lapping at the sides of the vessel.

Hey, Bree! Lookit this thing!" Bree looks over to Howie and the metal wheel. She jumps up in clear excitement, her eyes sparkling in knowing. "Oh! We're not just rebels and cookie thieves! We're pirates!" Bree giggles at his pirate impression. Her imagination working far ahead of hef as Howie dons the look of a pirate with a peg leg and one of those large plumed hats. "I'm Captain Fuzzy Beard, a true swashbucklin' bastard if there ever was one and this is my ship, 'Nautical Claw'! Check out my peg leg! Hey, don't point and laugh, though. I lost my leg in a volcano accident on a deserted island with my cousin and I'm very sensitive about it." Howie unsheathes his sword from his belt and shows Bree a few moves. She claps when he sheathes the sword and tipa the fine plumed hat at her. He then directs her attention to the cookie basket. "That'll be our booty, okay? Hey, whattya say? Got yer sea legs, first mate?" And with those words before Brees very eyes the cookie basket turns into an overflowing chest of gold and fine gemstones. All of it worth millions and billions - enough to to buy the kings palace twice over and still have enough left over to buy all the candies and cookies they would ever want.

The scrap metal playset becomes a large and magnificant vessel complete with a pirates flag hanging high above the crows nest. She mock stumbles as they hit a harsh 'wave' that sprays sea water at them both. High up in the sky the squawk of a seagull flock attracts her attention. She looks down at herself, envisioning that the dress has become red with black chaps on and a red bandana on her head. Her own sword hanging at her hip and a compass in her hand. She grins and shows that a few of her teeth are now gold. She salutes Captain Fuzzy Beard as and stands straight.

"Aye Captain! First mate Kid Craft reporting for duty. Where shall we be going today?" She has a slight bounce in her step as she moves to stand closer to the wheel and Captain Fuzzy Beard. She peers into the distance using a looking glass. All she sees for miles on end is the beautiful rolling blue waves. "Perhaps a Folly to the northern isles, where the evil hag-witch lives and preys on weary travelers!" She dances to the other side of the vessel that faces south. "Or even to the dangerous Southern waters, with the sirens." She turns to look at Captain Fuzzy Beard with the shine of a child's joy in her eyes.

Yeah! Now they were talkin'! As the Girl stood up and saluted him, the transformations around him reached their completion, pulling him fully into the world they'd made. Swaying with the movement of the ship, Howie kept a steady paw on the notched and ornately carved wooden wheel, feeling it pull and drift with a bit of pressure as the currents below tried to carry them in one direction or the other. The lines and rigging made small knotty protests as they were pulled tight with the wind and the ship herself groaned softly as she heaved and hoed. Salty air filled his little black nose and spray splashed his fur from over the railing. The feathers of his plumed hat fluttered in the breeze and he issued a brief glare at the noisy sea birds gliding between the masts. Goddamned scavengers! That was one part of this fantasy he could do without.

The Nautical Claw wasn't a brand new vessel but she was hearty and stalwart, with a massive bosom. Speaking of bosoms. "Evil hag-witch?" he asked warily. "Sounds like droopy boobies to me. Nuh-uh. Let's go fer the siren chicks. What are those, like-- mermaids, right? Yeah, mermaids sounds hot. I mean, fun. It sounds fun." Howie gave the wheel a forceful turn, the Nautical Claw creaking and moaning as she leaned to point in a more southerly direction. The huge sails above filled like fat men's bellies sticking over their belts as the wind blew from behind them and pushing the vessel forward.

"Alright!" Howie bellowed enthusiastically in his graveled voice. "Now we're on our way! Adventure ho!" As the ship straightened, Howie kept both paws on the wheel and gently moved it from side to side to correct their course and keep them steady. Tapping his good foot on the deck, he whistled a jaunty tune, even going so far as to sway a little to the beat. Then, he began to sing, his manly voice coming out deep and robust.

"Sailing across the sea!
Doing whatever we please!
You can't trap us!
Nooo, you can't catch us!
Happy are we! Pirates we be!"

As the lyrics left his mouth, Howie's body began to move more and more with the song. Letting go of the wheel, he took Bree's hand and swung her around as he spun with her, stopping to put his foot forward and then dipping his foot back.

"Finding all the booty!
Grabbing all the boobies!
There's nothing we fear!
Nooo, shed not a tear!
Happy are we! Pirates we be!"

Mid-dance, Howie paused as he spotted something over Bree's shoulder. "Hey, wait? What is that?" Rushing over to the railing, Howie leaned over the starboard side and peered at the mounds growing steadily bigger ahead of them. "Are we reaching land already? Yo, Kid Craft, get your eyeglass out and tell me what's coming! The Claw's a sturdy broad but she can't handle a booty bumpin' with any rocks." Worriedly, he rubbed a paw along the railing, as if to calm the inanimate vessel.

"Sounds like droopy boobies to me. Nuh-uh. Let's go fer the siren chicks. What are those, like-- mermaids, right? Yeah, mermaids sounds hot. I mean, fun. It sounds fun." Bree giggles wildly at Howi- er, Captain Fuzzy Beard, choice of words. She holds on the the convenient railing as he turns the ship and the force nearly knocks her down. She quirks a half smile and steadies herself once more. "They are kinda like mermaids," Bree answered, though she herself was hardly a novice on mythology. She knew plenty about other mythological monsters, like Kelpies or Centaurs. As Howie starts singing she marvels at his deep voice, like a living breathing man. Its a voice she would never imagine a teddy bear to have yet here Howie is with it.

Bree dances with Howie, twirling and whirling until yhe shapes also become distinct to her. "Are we reaching land already? Yo, Kid Craft, get your eyeglass out and tell me what's coming! The Claw's a sturdy broad but she can't handle a booty bumpin' with any rocks." Bree nods and brings out her golden eyeglass. She looks through the small end towards the rocks. That's when she hears the singing, and the jingling fairy-like laughter. The rocks come into focus and perched atop them are woman.

Their fins glisten with every color, scales traveling up to their breasts to cover them modestly. And their faces, young and vibrant. Bree scrunches her eyebrows close together, it looked as if someone else was there too, a man perhaps by his physique. "Captain! I see the Sirens, and it looks like something else is with them."