Sunday, April 17, 2011

Daily Story 33 - The Death of the Moocow

(Aaaaahhhhhh sorry it's late again, but at least you'll have two stories today, right?)

Once upon a time there were three bears. Three lovable, sweet, unsuspecting bears. They were on their way to the Annual Happy Forest Carnival when they were met a strange-looking man. This man smiled at them and took off his hat as he bowed to them. "Good day, bears. How are you doing this morning?"

"We're doing very well, thanks," the oldest of the bears said.

"We're on our way to the Annual Happy Forest Carnival!" the middle bear added.

"There's gonna be rides and games and food and candy and soda and prizes and clowns and acrobats and all kinds of cool stuff!" the youngest exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement.

"My, my, that does sound fun," the old man said. "Are you going to look at the Moocow?"

"The Moocow?" the oldest bear repeated.

"What's a Moocow?" the youngest asked.

"Something very magical and strange, and you ought to avoid it if you can, for it is evil and cruel to young ones like you," the man explained.

"Oooooooh," the bears said together.

"I wanna see it!" the youngest bear said excitedly.

"You're crazy," the middle bear said.

"Come on, guys. It's not like we'd even have time to go see it with all the other things we have planned," the oldest said. "Well, enjoy your day," the oldest added, turning to the old man, but the old man had disappeared. The bears shrugged it off and continued on their way.

Once they arrived at the carnival, the youngest bear noticed something strange. All the people seemed a bit sad, and the sky was cloudy, even though it had been super sunny before. The youngest one decided a storm had blown in and the people were sad about that.
The middle one noticed something a few hours later. The sky was now filled with dark grey clouds and the rumble of distant thunder could be heard throughout the carnival. Many people were heading for the exits, and some shops were closing down, even the ones that were more than prepared for a storm like this.

When closing time arrived, the oldest one noticed the most suspicious thing of all. The old man from earlier was walking towards the tent which contained the dreaded Moocow, and he had an evil grin on his face. The oldest told the other two to keep quiet and followed the old man into the tent. The old man drew a big, sharp knife from beneath his coat, and he pointed it straight at the oldest bear.

"You! You'll do nicely. Come here."

The oldest bear hesitated. The man snorted, then said, "The Moocow's power has grown too great. If you don't do as I say, your siblings will die."


"Yes! Now come here, little bear. Come here and destroy the terrible Moocow so that your siblings might be saved from a gruesome fate."

The oldest bear walked forward and took the knife, then turned to the Moocow, whose expression was blank as it mindlessly chewed on some hay. The oldest bear took a deep breath, held the knife up high in the air, and swung.

"Yes! I have done it! My enemy is perished! I can finally take over this puny little world and use you pathetic little creatures to do my bidding!" the old man screamed.
"What? I thought you said-" the oldest bear cried.

"Oh, don't worry, you saved your siblings, little bear," the man chortled. "For if you had not killed the Moocow, I would have killed those two brats myself!"

The oldest bear cried out in anguish. The Moocow was not the evil one here, the old man was. They had been tricked.

The three bears were taken from their home three days later and placed in a terrible dungeon. The old man's regime had begun, and the sky was forever filled with black clouds. There was nothing the three bears could do but wait for their torment to end.

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