Cream Cheese. Cream Cheese. What kind of human would name their yellow teddy bear “Cream Cheese?!” If I could manage an eye roll right then and there as my new human cradled me in her bony little hands and passed me around among her friends, I would. Given my expertise on food, I am sure that “cream cheese” refers to a white substance with a high fat content derived from cheese that humans commonly consume in accompaniment with bagels. Are you serious. I admit that I am not exactly thin, but is this human making some sort of subtle jab at my physique? Rude. I plastered my cute little smile on my yellow face, and continued to charm these puny humans with my golden brown eyes and fluffy yellow beauty. Bow down to me, you mortals.
After school, which is an institution that my human attends, my human, named “Sabrina” brought me home. In the duration of that tediously long day, I was stuffed into this contraption that is termed “a backpack” and thus I received a very bumpy ride every time she employed her locomotive biological mechanisms. Then I met him.
LOLO. When I first heard that name, I could barely manage to stifle my chortle. What kind of name is that? Then I remembered that I was “Cream Cheese.” “LOLO’s” real name was “Samuel.” Sabrina and Samuel. Gosh. This family must really like the letter “S.” I beamed happily at this new human that is presumably younger than my new owner. This was one of my biggest regrets in life. In the entirety of the next eight years, I would accumulate so many open wounds that my human would attempt to sew me up (poorly) so many times because of this lowly human who cannot contain his violent tendencies.
Before you know it, I am already eight years old. My human brought me to college with her. In a way, I am relieved to be apart from LOLO, but then I learned that I would not have access to the renowned products of Cornell Dining. My life is not the life of the living. I might as well join the “Walking Dead” as a [cute] zombie! It is true that I am proud of my human for attending an acclaimed institution for her higher education, as I am also a graduate of the prestigious Charvard University of the teddy bear world. However was it necessary for her to confine my territory to a tiny room bathed in the smell of athlete’s foot – a heirloom that my human and her roommate had graciously inherited from their predecessor of the dorm room? I think not.
I quickened my pace. My heavy footsteps thudded in a pounding rhythm on the concrete bathed in the swirling shadows of the night. The streetlight ahead flickered ominously, as if letting out bouts of sinister yellowed light in a taunting manner. I prayed to myself, begging my legs to move a bit faster, to fight against the heavy feeling in me that had already seeped down to my feet, weighing them down with invisible lead. I found myself holding my breath, and when I reached the turn, I quickly pivoted myself so that I would be able to make a sharp turn to the right while I sharply exhaled. There was so little air in my lungs that reflexively, some of the cold, wet air of the night seeped into them. My eyes darted to the right to sneak a peek at the thing following me. I could not make out the shape. I could not see what it looked like. I could only distinguish a darker shadow amidst the already dark shadows of the night. I shut my eyes tightly for a second and opened them to study the situation and consider my options. Think. I begged my mind, so numb with fear, as if I had woken up in an ice bath that I had been immersed in for hours without any conscious memory of when I had been immersed, to absorb what was around me and find some way to escape. A hand grabbed my shoulder –
“Wow. How did Cream Cheese end up on the floor?” my human wondered aloud as she picked me up and gently planted me back onto the claustrophobically twin-sized bed (twin-sized is a synonym for small. Check your thesaurus). It was a nightmare. For a teddy bear, naps are pretty common. Teddy bears don’t have fixed sleeping schedules. As a result, the REM cycle is often our best friend. This best friend always visits, you see, at any time of the day. This best friend certainly broadens one’s horizons – beyond a musty dorm room.
I suspect that this athlete’s foot odor, so deeply embedded in the carpet, is getting to my cute little yellow head. It is hard to cling onto your sanity when you are literally stuck in this room with white walls and athlete’s foot odor 24/7. At least my human gets to eat ice cream at the dining hall from time to time, whereas I do not. I don’t even have a shoulder. Why would I even dream about someone chasing after me on the streets and grabbing my shoulder? It’s this athlete’s foot odor, I’m telling you. It’s either that, or I’ve achieved senilism – but I’m only eight!
I glanced at the neon green bars on the alarm clock and I made out the numbers to determine that the current time is approximately zero-eight-zero-zero hours. A few more minutes…until I would end up all alone in this room. Again. Sometimes, I feel a strong sense of contempt for my human. Why would she need to bring me here to comfort her loneliness if we were going to be apart for most of the time anyways? When I feel these emotions very strongly, I shall confess that I at times climb onto the area of her skin just covering her trachea – and I just sit. I know, I know. This is very evil of me, but who can honestly blame my cuteness? While sitting there, I would provocatively dig my round belly into her chin and make mean faces at her. If she awoke, I would innocently pretend that I somehow got swept up in her blankets during her tossing and turning and ended up in that curious location. I have my ways.
I have just realized that you may not have had the opportunity to be honored by my presence in the past, thus you may not have been granted the glory of becoming an acquaintance of mine. I shall explain how I ended up in the human world.
My name is Cream Cheese Abbybear Teddybear, and I am part of the royal house of the Abby Bears in the kingdom of the Teddy Bears in the world of stuffed animals. My mother is Queen Abby Bear, and you may commonly see her face (it’s identical to mine, but blue) printed on a wide assortment of baby products, as we Abby Bears use the face of our current reigning member of our lineage as the royal crest. My father is Teddy Bear, the king of all the teddy bears. My best friend, who is also my cousin, Snowy Teddybear, is a polar monkey. This species of teddy bears refers to a hybrid offspring of a monkey and a polar bear. If you were incapable of deducing such an obvious implication, I have graciously enlightened you. Needless to say, I am of royal stuffing (royal blood in human speak).
Here I am now. I am entombed in a shabby little room with white walls and hiding spiders. The carpet constantly taunting me with that athlete’s foot odor has been battering my sanity. I stared at the wall opposite of me and forced my cute little smile for my owner, but my eyes are probably betraying my sadness. I am sure that my human has noticed that my radiance has been withering away, as I have lost the brightness in my yellow fur. I am in a dire need of a sunbathing session, but here I am now – in a dorm room with a horrid odor.
My owner grabbed her keys and stuffed them into her pocket as she carried out the rest of her morning routine. She bent down to pull on her shoes, subsequently swinging her book-carrying apparatus onto her back – the apparatus devoid of of me. She pulled out her keys, and with her empty hand, she opened and closed the door swifty. The jangling of the keys on her and the ominous click that signified her departure for the rest of the day. I was all alone again.
I clambered down from the mountain of blankets on her unmade bed. Although this was always a laborious climb, I experiencing what my owner feels when she navigates her campus, as she encounters many slopes throughout the day. I sat on her pillow, so I could get a full view of her alarm clock. I stared at it, willing for the first number to change to four, so I would yet again hear the familiar jingling of her keys and the clicking of the lock. The numbers were frozen, as if an acupuncturist had accidentally stabbed a needle into the detrimentally horrid pressure point that results in paralysis. I pulled my eyes away from the clock, like a dog owner tugging on the leash of a dog, pulling the poor creature away from a showdown with a rival. I teleported over to the radiator and stared weakly at the blinds that were tightly drawn down. I turned my head and groaned when I saw that the blinds on the window of my human’s roommate were also tightly blocking out all of the light. I threw my sunglasses across the room as my hopes of sunbathing to rejuvenate myself were dashed. I teleported over to my human’s alarm clock and turned on the radio. With my stubby paws, I turned the dial, desperately searching for a station that was playing some rock music that I could bang my head to. No luck.
I sighed and kicked the stupid alarm clock, and the stupid device sped up a few minutes. I kicked it again. My human still thinks there’s a problem with the electrical circuits anyways. I turned the dial again, and Chopin started to flow through the air. I nodded with grudging approval and I teleported over to my owner’s desk. I aligned the textbook titled Essential Biology and started to do some aerobic steps on it. One, two, three, four, turn-straddle-turn. Yep. That was enough exercise for the day. I bent over the edge of my human’s desk and flicked open the drawer on the top right for a little snack. I climbed down into it and stuffed two Little Bites brownies, some peanuts from the bag of trail mix, and some oreos into my mouth. For the cherry on top, I popped in a minty fresh stick of gum to eliminate all the evidence. I climbed back up onto the desk and lazily leaned against the biology textbook as I caught my breath. I brushed the crumbs off my muzzle and my round belly onto the desk – my human would not care to investigate, as many unexplained phenomena occur in her living quarters all the time. I smoothed the yellow fur on my cheeks and climbed over to the bed to take a nap, as it was already zero-eight-two-zero hours. As quick as a squirrel, I sank into a deep slumber.
“Eat it!” the strange hooded figure roared. I shook my head furiously and begged for him to stop tempting me. I stumbled backwards, and a familiar Chopin tune started to play. I glanced down to realize that I had stepped on the play button on an antique iPod Shuffle. My eyes darted back nervously at the hooded figure, but he was gone. A bamboo dim sum steamer innocently sat in the spot where the hooded stranger used to be. An outside force drew me towards the curious object, emitting graceful trails of dancing steam. I reached out with one of my paws and grabbed onto the tiny stud on the lid and revealed what was inside. It was so beautiful. The snow-white pork bun glistened like slab of white chocolate, and I felt something wet seeping down my muzzle. I stared at it. It stared back at me. I shyly reached out my right paw –
Creak. Light flooded into the room from the gradually widening crack of the door.
“Why is it so dark in here?” My human flicked on the lights. I glared at her. Someone was going to experience an inexplicable weight on their trachea and a provocative round belly digging into their chin tonight.