Three bachelor bears lived communally in a cabin deep in a national park. One bear was undersized, another was a middle-sized bear, and the last had been overserved. The large bear was almost too big for the front door of the cabin.
The bears had friendly relations with their neighbors, who regarded them as good-natured, harmless and reliable. They admired the resolve of the wee bear for refusing to seek compensation for his height deficiency. Their garden was tidy and won frequent awards for "yard of the month" from the homeowners association.
Each of the bachelor bears had his own bowl, carefully selected from Crate & Barrel, his own overstuffed chair, and a bed from Ikea. The wee bear’s precious belongings were small, just his size, while everything the middle-sized bear owned was middling. Imagine the size of the belongings of their oversized friend!
One day, the bears took a stroll in the park while their porridge cooled. In their absence, a woman discovered the bears’ dwelling. She was an agent of the park, selected for her uncommon ability to use verbs as nouns and nouns as verbs. She had been tasked with insuring that the strongest of the park’s denizens didn’t benefit at the cost of the weakest. "A big ask is how this cabin has avoided inquiry," she said.
Badge in hand, she climbed the picket fence that surrounded the cabin. She approached and peeked through a window. Inside, she saw an enormous chair. "My take-away is that the size of this enormous chair is unfair!" She stamped her foot hard, which might have been painful, but she wore comfortable shoes.
Approaching the door, she tried the latch. The wide door swung open. Certain that no one was home, she walked inside.
She found three bowls of porridge cooling on a table. One bowl was small, one was medium-sized, and one was as large as a washtub. Each bowl had beside it a wooden spoon matching the size size of its bowl. The woman selected the middle-sized spoon and was about to plunge a middle-sized spoonful of porridge from the largest bowl in her mouth when she noticed that it was steaming.
"This porridge is too hot!" she exclaimed. "But I have a solve. I will norm the porridge." She mixed piping hot mush from the large-sized bowl and the wee bowl into the middle-sized one. She threw the empty bowls in the sink. They shattered into a thousand pieces, but now the temperature of the porridge was just right.
Next the woman tried to sit in the smallest chair. Although she was of average size herself, her fanny was ample. The chair broke under her weight. Next she sat in the chair that better fitted her beam.
As her eyes surveyed the room, she began to suspect the porridge was made from genetically modified corn. Shift about as she might, she was unable to find comfort on the cushions of the largest chair. "This cushion must be full of contraband," she told herself. "I have probable cause to effort the seams open." She chose a butcher knife from the kitchen and ripped the cushions into bug bites.
Poking about in the upper rooms, she laid her head on the bed of the wee bear. "This bed is deficient in size, but I need a nap. When I waken, I will journal my thoughts," she said. The woman fell into a deep, self-satisfied slumber.
By and by, the bachelor bears returned home. They were alarmed to find the door to their cabin standing open. Inside they discovered their broken bowls and shredded chairs.
"Somebody has been lying in my bed," the wee bear shouted, "and here she is!"
The woman jumped out of bed and gave each of the bears an order to vacate the cabin. "We must focus on the build. I will parent our cabin onto the register of Historic Places."
And that’s why the bears live in a cave.
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