2021 HERE I COME

"I am going to make it through this year if it kills me," started Bum.

 "That's a pretty depressing start to the new year Bum," said Bear and included a frown to show his displeasure.  "Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"It's a song I heard on the radio about a week ago.  I liked it."

"Why?" asked Bear. 

"It appealed to me after that fucking 2020 and the fucking pandemic."

"You know I don't like cursing, so I won't say it again.  So, did the song have any redeeming qualities?"

"Not really," said Bum.  "One line was, I played video games in a drunken haze, and some other bits about drinking scotch with my girlfriend Cathy."

"How about the tune, was that any better?" asked Bear. 

"I can't remember the tune," said Bum.

 "Sheesh," said Bear, "who wrote that crap?"

"I don't know who wrote it Bear.  It was sung by an American group called The Mountain Goats."

"Let's move on Bum.  We must have more interesting things to talk about.  What have you been doing with yourself these days?"

"First tell me what you've been doing Bear.  It may inspire me."

"My master is stuck in the States and his wife is pretty grim because she's in lockdown in the house, alone, and no one to talk to but me.  She's not a dog person so you know how that's going.  When she opens the door to let me out, because she has to, she says get lost so you get the picture."

"Where are the children?  They always liked you."

"They grew up, moved out, and now live elsewhere.  It annoys her that they cannot visit because of the pandemic and it annoys her even more that I've all she's got.  The children think she's lucky to have my company but, although she doesn't tell them that, she doesn't feel lucky at all."

"That sounds pretty grim, Bear.  I'm glad we can meet occasionally."

 "Yes, that saves me, Bum, from utter despair.  Dogs get lonely too, you know."

"I know, Bear.  All living creatures can get lonely.  People sometimes forget that."

"Back to you Bum.  What have you been doing?"

"I started making a doll, almost a year ago." said Bum.

"What's taking so long?  Those miniature caricature dolls you make should be a breeze for you.  You made enough of them for people, five of them from my recollection."  Bear looked puzzled.

"I'm making a big doll this time and that's why it's taking longer."

"How big?" asked Bear.

"So big it will be able to wear my clothes." said Bum with a smirk.

"That's big, Bum." said Bear.  "You are such an extremist, aren't you?"

"I prefer to think of myself as a fun person."

"I bet you do," said Bear in that disapproving tone he uses too often.

"Never mind that Bear.  The big doll is coming along nicely.  It's pretty much done except for the head." 

"Why's that?  I would think getting the big body, arms and legs, would be the hardest parts.  Presumably, you needed a lot of stuffing for that big doll, particularly the body.  You have a somewhat long body as you and I well know."

"I got all the stuffing I needed from the Church Thrift, and cheap."

"That's a lot of stuffing, Bum.  What did you stuff for the body, a coat?"

"Very funny Bear. If you must know, and I know you do, I used a jumbo pillow which I purchased from Superstore for five bucks.   I had noticed one night when I was getting into bed that my pillow was the same size as my body.  Voila, an idea was formed."

"Very clever, Bum.   If I know you, and I do, I bet that five bucks was the biggest price you paid for all the doll parts."

"So true, Bear, so true," admitted Bum.

"What was the cheapest thing you found at the Thrift?"

"That would be 25 cents for a box of red Christmas bows.  They were edged with gold, with gold ties hanging down that could be squeezed around things like branches."

"That's pretty cheap alright, Bum.  Did you use them to decorate your Christmas tree?"

"We don't have a tree inside.  No one is coming so what would be the point.  Big F and I don't care."

"So why did you buy a box of red Christmas bows?"

"I planned to use one of the big bows for lips for my big doll.  I needed ruby red lips and thought the Christmas bow would do the trick, and it did."

"I guess you had to return the rest of the bows to the Church so someone else could use them for Christmas." said Bear.

"By now it was too close to Christmas so I was stuck with them."

"You can keep the box of bows for next Christmas, if you live that long."

"Always the optimist, Bear, always the optimist."

"I prefer to think of myself as practical Bum." 

"Practical is all very well.  I prefer to be creative so I decided to decorate the neighbourhood.  On my morning walks for the three days before Christmas, I attached those bows to bushes and trees nearby and they looked very nice and jaunty, if I do say so myself."

"I'm impressed Bum," said Bear.  "What a nice surprise for walkers at Christmas."

"I decided to try my hand at poetry, something I never was interested in, or good at I thought.  I mentioned it to Paul and of course he sent me a book called The Complete Rhyming Dictionary by Clement Wood.  It is the essential handbook for songwriters, poets, students, teachers, speechmakers, and members of the performing arts. "

"Don't you have enough to do, Bum, without adding poetry to the equation?  You've got that big doll you're working on, our book which is awaiting editing, and that second book you started which I believe you called Witless because that's what you are now."

"Never mind all that, Bear.  Do you want to hear my first poem or not?"

"Lay it on me."

MY CHRISTMAS POEM (that's what I called it)

A red Christmas bow on a bush is a beautiful sight

It smiles each morning but it's gone at night,

My Christmas is lonely

Just Fran and me only.

I wish I had a quiver to ride the arrow of change that's coming.

2021 is near, 

I think I'll have a beer.

Let's toast a new beginning,

The putrid pandemic cannot be winning.

I wish I had a quiver.

"OK, Bear, what do you think for my first effort?"

"It's pretty good, Bum, but I smell a touch of plagiarism here."

"Whatever do you mean, Bear?"

"You probably heard that famous song, I wish I was a river. on the radio.  I'm not saying you lifted it on purpose, but..."

"Who cares.  No one is going to read my poem.  They can't even find my blog."

"You don't know that.  What if your poem goes viral?"

"Fat chance."

"If it does, that I wish I was a river singer may disagree and come after you. "What do you say to that?"

"I say, sue me.  God knows, I have nothing else to do."