The Teddy Bears Picnic
What you didn’t know
The doll appeared at the edge of the park and walked catlike across the grass. When she reached the Annual Picnic — Welcome All Teddies sign, she came to a standstill. I sucked in a mouthful of air. Why was she here? Shoulders back and head erect, the doll stared around at all the teddies, her green eyes wide. Unlike the gathered teddies, (who had arrived for the picnic in their play clothes), the doll was dressed in formal attire, a pink silk knee-length dress, with pink high heel shoes, and wrapped around her black hair, a gold ribbon. In one hand she carried a large picnic basket covered with a red check cloth. Her other hand dangled uselessly at her side. I took a backward step. “Here’s trouble,” I whispered to the blue teddy next to me. “Here’s trouble.”
While I watched, the doll’s chest rose and fell, then she pushed her way through various clusters of teddies, none of which made any effort to move out of her way. I noticed a slight tremble in the doll’s legs and wondered if she was nervous. One of her kind had never shown up to our picnic before.
A hush fell over the crowd as the uninvited visitor walked toward the climbing frame and then up the wooden stairs. At the top, she turned around and stared at all the teddies below. “Hello,” she smiled. “It’s nice to see you all. My, my name is, umm,” she hesitated, “umm, my name is Dolly.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said a teddy somewhere to the left of me, and I twisted my head to see who’d said it.
All the teddies, short, tall, fat, thin, and of various colors, looked rather stony-faced, so it was hard to tell. My attention flicked back to Dolly. The smile on her face was still there, although not so prominent now.
“Umm,” she said, “I’ve heard so much about the Teddy Bears Picnic. How there are special treats to eat, and games to play. And, and, and,” her voice trailed off. She scratched her chin, “Umm,” she said, “Umm, and I thought, I’d like to come. I promise to be good. I love playing hide and seek under the trees. And nobody gaily gads about better than I. Her eyes lit up, and she held up the picnic basket in her hand. “And look, I made sausage rolls. We can share them. I made tons.”
Sausage rolls, sausage rolls, I sniffed the air and detected the faint whiff of pastry. I couldn’t smell the mince, but perhaps if I moved closer. Turning sideways, I began zigzagging through the crowd, making my way toward the climbing frame. Teddy bears always packed delicious assortments of food for the annual picnic. The only problem was the honey content, honey sandwiches, honey pistachio, honey flapjacks, honey joys, honey pancakes, honey muffins, honey peanuts, and honey, honey, honey. Geez, I gritted my teeth. There was more to life than honey. I reached the climbing frame and found a place to stand less than a meter from Dolly.
An aroma of pork and sage filled my nostrils, “Mmm, yum.” The sausage rolls probably weren’t that long out of the oven. She must have cooked them and came straight here. I rubbed my tummy, my tastebuds salivating.
“So teddies,” Dolly called. “Can I join your picnic?”
I wasn’t expecting the teddies to yell and cheer at the suggestion, but nor did I expect their silence, not a scuffle, a murmur, or a twitter. It was as if a mute button had suppressed their voices. Then a huge brown muscly teddy heaved himself up on the platform, and behind Dolly’s back, pulled a nasty face. It wasn’t funny, at least I didn’t think so, but teddies standing everywhere broke out into peals of laughter. Before Dolly could turn around and discover the reason for their mirth, the brown teddy grabbed the picnic basket from her hand and dropped it. Then he flexed his arms, scooped her up, and, smack, laid her down, so hard, that her head thudded on the wooden floorboards.
Her eyes closed in a flash, and I wondered if he’d rendered her unconscious, but then a tiny snore escaped her nose. Ah, I thought, she’s one of those dolls whose eyes shut when she lies down, and now she’s fast asleep.
“So what do you say? “The brown teddy shouted. “Can Dolly join in our picnic? I say nay.” His closed paw shot up in the air. “It’s a picnic for teddy bears. Dolls are not welcome. How about it? Can she come? I say nay. Who’s with me?”
Teddies all around shot their paws up in the air and echoed Nah. I bit my lip and did likewise.
The brown teddy bounded from the climbing frame and with his paw still pounding the air, raced through the crowd yelling, “Nay, nay, nay.” He reached a dirt path leading into the woods and slipped between the trees. In groups of three and four, other teddies followed him.
Before long, half the teddies had vanished from view. I turned back towards Dolly. She reminded me of Sleeping Beauty, her lips puckered like rosebuds, and a pale shade of red lit up her cheeks. She was such a pretty little thing. I glanced back at the disappearing teddies. As yet they hadn’t noticed that I’d failed to follow, and even if they did, would they care? As a bear I was rather bland, my fur was grey, my eyes, nose, and mouth, black, and my height and weight, boringly average. Even worse, my personality matched my mundane appearance. At social gatherings, I often stood squished in a corner while other teddies frolicked, danced, and chattered before me.
In the distance, I spied the last teddy venture into the woods, and without any witnesses I pulled myself onto the climbing frame and knelt beside the snoozing Dolly. A tear escaped my eye and rolled down my cheek, poor Dolly, sound asleep, what was to become of her? It was not yet 10:00 am, and already the hairs on my back were beginning to burn. What would the sun’s rays do to Dolly? Would her face melt? Would her features become one big blobby plastic mess? Oh, I couldn’t stand it, her beautiful little face. Why did the teddies have to be so closed off, so cruel? Why couldn’t Dolly attend their annual picnic? Were dolls so terrible? Why? I tilted my head back and shouted at the cloudless sky. “Why?”
Why indeed. Well, I wouldn’t stand for it. All I had to do was sit Dolly up, and she’d wake, then perhaps we could plan what to do next. I placed my paws under her shoulders and began to push upwards. She was heavier than I expected and I wriggled to the left to give myself more room. I pushed harder and bumped into the picnic hamper. My goodness, inside were Dolly’s sausage rolls. I had forgotten about them. An image of me crunching into the splintery pastry came to mind, and my stomach grumbled. Dolly half opened her eyes. “What’s happening? Where am I?” She asked. My attention shifted from the picnic basket to Dolly, back to the basket again. I wondered how many sausage rolls she’d made. What a shame to have to divvy them up. I licked my lips. If I didn’t eat soon, I’d faint!
Almost like Dolly had a deadly infectious disease, I dropped her back on the wooden slats. Back to her coma-like state, then I picked up the picnic basket, and carrying it against my chest, began the short walk home.
What can I say — sharing food made me cross? Some might even say crosser than a bear with a sore head.