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I looked at my watch and said, "It's 12:13." The bear clapped his hands with joy and said, "I made it, I made it. Right on time." "Huh?" I didn't understand. "I'm in time for lunch. I regularly eat lunch at this restaurant. I was worried that I might be late because I went hunting for honey deep in the mountains today." The bear loosened the string of the bag to get ready to eat his favorite honey. I was surprised. "Watch out, the bees will come out!" I cautioned him. I did not want to be stung by the bees. In fact, several mad bees were buzzing right near the opening. The bear laughed and said, "It's all right. Don't worry. Look." He pursed his lips and sucked in the air like a vacuum cleaner. The bees, sucked out, came out the opening of the bag like a train of cars and went into the dark tunnel of the bear's mouth. Then the bear spat them out in the air one after another like watermelon seeds. The bees seemed to have fainted for a while but eventually gave up and flew away. The bear took out a honeycomb from his bag, dipped out some honey with his big paw, and looked at the sticky liquid for some time. Then he put it in his mouth. "Hmm, yummy." The bear stuck out his tongue and licked his lips. When I watched closely, a bee held on to the tip of his left fang in the mouth and vigorously wriggled his hips. The bee must be stinging the bear, who obviously did not feel a thing. Somehow, I felt sorry for the bee and disliked the bear a little. The bear caught the bee with the tip of his tongue and puffed him out. The bee, flung into the air, slowly flew around and eventually faded away in the distance. "Probably it's none of my business," I said to the bear, "but how do you feel about ripping off honey that bees worked so hard to collect? Don't you feel sorry for the bees?" "Oh," the bear looked stupefied. "I mean," I felt like giving it to him, "it's not right to rob honey from bees." "Oh, you say I robbed honey?" the bear rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, "Is that supposed to mean that people don't rob?" I was at a loss for words. Come to think of it, people might be robbing honey, too. The bear laughed and said, "It doesn't matter how much honey I eat, you know. I can only climb short trees and there are still many honeycombs left on the tall trees." Then he laughed and added, "I don't kill bees and they will make more honey next year." "And I don't keep the honey to myself. I share it with other animals in the woods." Then, the bear put the honeycomb down on the table and licked a little honey again. When he realized that I was looking at him, he giggled. "Just a little." Then, he hid the honeycomb from my eyes with his big paw. He must be licking honey where I could not see. I came to like this bear a little. He let out several burps as if to say that he was full. "Ouch!" the bear suddenly fell from the chair, holding his stomach, "Ouch, it hurts, it hurts!" He rolled about on the ground as if he were a child. Bees that he swallowed together with the honey must be stinging him here and there inside his stomach. After rolling around for some time, the bear stood up and beat on his belly. "Oh, it was painful," he said, brushing away big teardrops. "You shouldn't have eaten the bees," I said in sympathy. "But you know," he argued, "This stinging is very good. The taste of honey I have after this is superb." The bear said and squeezed out a little more honey from the honeycomb, its sweet fragrance drifting in the air. He licked it off with his long tongue. "Yes, this! This tastes so good." He started dancing cheerfully, tossing the honeycomb into the air and catching it like a rugby ball. A swarm of bees, buzz, buzz, buzz, Stung the bear's belly, prick, prick, prick. When the bear got tired of dancing, he put the honeycomb above his head and crushed it with both paws. Golden honey dribbled down like watercolor paint squeezed out of its tube and into his mouth. I must have looked very envious. He closed one eye and said, "Would you like a lick?" The bear with sticky honey all around his mouth gave me a dollop of honey on my palm. I licked it and was surprised at its wonderful taste. This honey would sell better than any sold at a high-class store. "Now you see," the bear boasted, adding more honey to my palm, "This honey has lots of body and yet a pleasant aftertaste. You cannot find better honey wherever you go." Aware of his worried look, I said, "No more, thank you. I'm full." Immediately, the bear smiled, obviously reassured. He crushed the honeycomb as flat as an empty toothpaste tube and sucked away at it like a baby. I became anxious to see the honeycomb being squashed so easily. Was there really enough for his friends in the woods? "Hmm," the bear finally chewed the honeycomb like chewing gum and swallowed it. He said, "Oh, it was good," but laughed in embarrassment, noticing my amazement as I watched him. "It's all right. I'm a cautious bear. Look," the bear took another honeycomb from his bag like a magician. "Don't tell me you thought I had eaten all of it." The bear said so proudly, put the honeycomb on his head, and spun it around. "Yoo-hoo!" I heard a voice from somewhere. Somebody was coming near from the grassland. As soon as the bear heard the voice, he hid the honeycomb in his bag in a hurry. A fox came running, stopped, and panted heavily. He had pointed ears and gleaming blue eyes. I thought I was not prejudiced against animals but, when I saw the face of this fox, I became a little worried about the money in my pocket. "Oh, I'm so tired!" the fox says, dropping down on a chair without greeting, "As you can see, I ran all the way from beyond that mountain." "What happened?" I was compelled to ask because the bear remained silent. "What a life! The wild ducks I reserved for lunch suddenly flew away!" "What do you mean, reserved ducks?" "Well, I found these ducks swimming in the pond and made a reservation, telling them that I would have them for lunch and to please take off their feathers and wait. When I came back with leeks, they all flew away. These days, ducks are so ill-mannered." The fox was outraged but I felt sorry for the ducks. The fox seemed to want to say more but, suddenly, he sniffed. "Oh, something smells good. Sniff, sniff." The bear looked the other way. "This sweet smell, hmm," The fox wrinkled his nose and said, "What could it be?" I wanted to tell him that it was honey but remained silent because the bear did not say anything. "Sniff, sniff. Oh, this must be ..." "Ahem," said the bear, "I don't have a honeycomb and I don't lick honey." "Honey?" the fox turned his ears, "Yes, this certainly smells like honey." Before the fox arrived at the truth, he was distracted by the shrill cry of a crow coming down from the sky. "Caw, I had a terrible time," the crow landed on the table and staggered a few steps, "Caw, caw, oops-a-daisy." When I looked, the face of the crow had swollen red. "What happened to you?" asked the fox, grinning. The fox was mean and felt happy about the crow's misfortune. He said, "Did you peck at the sun and get burned?" "Don't be silly, Fox. How can I fly to the sun? How unscientific can you get?" the crow retorted in a fume. According to the crow, he met a cloud of bees while he was flying. So he greeted them with, "Hello, folks," "Fine day today." "They stung you for that? Violent insects," the fox showed sympathy for the crow. "No," said the crow, "Nothing happened then. They seemed a bit angry." "Oh. Then, why?" "I'm anxious to know the answer, myself. All I asked them was 'Can I have a little honey, please?'" Then the bees started attacking the crow, saying "Get him. He is the same as that bugger." "The same as that bugger?" the bear and I looked at each other. "That bugger" probably meant the robber of the honey I had. The bear got flustered, cleared his throat, and said, "You had such a misfortune, Crow. I feel sorry for you. There sure are violent guys in this world." |
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