Contributing editor-at-large Tess Lawrence takes a peek inside the fabled land of The Big House on the Hill where Malcolm, Julie and Barnaby rule.
(Image by TheCMN via flickr.com)
ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE LAND OF OZ, there were three little bears.
There was Malcolm Daddy Bear and Julie Mummy Bear and little baby Barnaby Bear and they all loved each other so very much and loved puddles and cuddles and money and honey wrapped up in a five-pound note.
They lived in a most splendid house that once belonged to the people, but in the Great Honey Wars of the Xiangmo Dynasty, linked to the Boston Consulting Tea Party, it was reclaimed by the Parliament of Bears and so they wined and whined and dined as if they were monarchs of the Glen Ford, Australia's most famous car.
The people didn't mind them living in The Big House on the Hill because they always kept the light on and never drew on the Venetian blinds. Anyone could peek in at any time, day or night, and see the Three Little Bears and what they were up to.
Sometimes there would be visitors to The Big House. Very important visitors indeed. The Three Little Bears had a very, very big bed and so there was always room for one or two or even more dear little bears.
Sometimes polarising bears would visit. But they would not be invited to sleepovers because they liked the cold and the Three Little Bears did not.
A favourite was little Scotty Bear and then there was St Christopher Bear and the huffery puffery wise Brandis Bear who always wore his odd socks to bed. On his ears. But no-one minded because The Big House was a house of happy diversity, of creatures and creations great and small, wide and thin.
But some other bears did not like The Three Bears living in The Big House. They looked upon the house and those who lived within with spite and jealous malintent.
Little did The Three Bears know that in another part of the land was a naughty bad bear with a saw head who wanted to cut them down to size.
He belonged to a very special sloth of New South Welsh bears and the very mention of his name was to sound dread in the hearts of good men and women bears throughout the land.
This bad bear's name was Barilaro. Now, Barilaro Bear freely roamed the forests of Monaro, named after the Glen Ford's rival, the Holden.
He lived in the beautiful land of Jerrabomberra. But he was not content and was jealous of The Three Bears who lived in The Big House on the Hill and was resentful that he had never been invited to sleep over. Or under.
So he decided he would try his jolly best to remove The Three Bears from The Big House, especially little Barnaby Bear who loved nothing more than dressing up like a cow bear and cracking his whip.
Little Barnaby Bear was so beloved by the people and they were going to have a big party to make him a Prince of Bears, second only in importance to Daddy Malcolm Bear, the bare king.
So, putting on his best pyjamas and lucky sheep-skinned moccasins, Barilaro Bear went to see the Oracle of Bondi Junction, Allen Key Jones, who broadcast his prophecies to millions of his worshippers throughout the land.
Although he was not a real bare, Jones had hairy palms and was the leader of the Cult of Bear-Faced Fakery. So, many Paddington and Oxford Street bears were drawn to him and he was often fondled in the scrumpy by legions of admiring rugby players he coached while resting in between prophecies.
OBJ invited Barilaro onto his daily growlings to the karmic world and there Barilaro Bear caused a great sensation throughout the land.
He called for the smiting of Daddy Bear Malcolm and for his eviction from The Big House and as the leader of all the bears in the land.
Barilaro Bear said if Daddy Malcolm Bear resigned it would be like a Christmas pressie to Australians and an extra Christmas special budgie smuggler filler for Grandpapa Abbott Bear, who once lived in The Big House and still keeps a set of spanking clean undies there in a concealed laundry cupboard — just in case he should be invited to a permanent sleepover, makeover and pullover.
Poor old Grandpapa Abbott Bear was an angry, angry grizzly bear but everyone excused him because he suffered from Alt-Rites Syndrome and still thought he should sit in the big chair.
Well, silly billy Barilaro Bear who hitherto had lived an unremarkable bear's life, loved all the fuss he caused and was thrilled at the fame it brought him. Soon, lesser oracles invited him onto their karmic broadcasts and Barilaro's dear chest and head started to grow even larger with pride and prejudice against Daddy Malcolm Bear.
He had so many gifts of jars of honey that he had to hire a shipping container for when he was going to sail away for a year and a day.
Mummy Julie Bear was very cross indeed. Barilaro Bear was in her bad books and got bad looks from her. She scolded him mightily. But Barilaro Bear didn't care. Instead, his big head was filled with princely thoughts and he decided he should be the Prince, not Little Barnaby Bear.
Alas, it was not to be. All Barnaby Bear's friends in the Carnivora Land of New England rallied and put on their Little Barnaby Army Bear t-shirts to vote for him as the people's prince. They came from far and wide in their thousands. Some came on foot, some in Fords and Holdens, some on bikes and buses and some even came on camels and donkeys to vote for the princely bear child with the rosy cheek.
Little Barnaby Bear was unanimously elected as Prince of New England. Daddy Malcolm Bear was so happy. His little face was beaming. His smile reached from here to here. He welcomed back Little Barnaby Bear with a great big bear hug. My goodness, children, you have never seen such happiness and rejoicing.
The only one who was not happy was Barilaro Bear, who was banished back to Old South Wales and was never to be heard of again.
Mummy Julie Bear was very happy too. She knew that one day, if Daddy Malcolm Bear went on a long holiday, that she could become chief Mummy Daddy Bear of all the land and that Little Baby Barnaby Bear would stand beside her as Prince.
But for now, Daddy, Mummy and Little Baby Bear were content that their faerie tale had come true.
They all joined hands and made their way back to The Big House on the Hill. They held a big bearly party and everyone who came were gifted jars of deelishus honey made in China.
There were genteel crustless sandwitches with Adani salami fillings. And tumblers of Coka Coala. Sausage rolls filled with precious metals and uranium waist. There were meet-and-greet pies filled with genetically modified nanoparticle paste and recyled polystyrene. There were bap roles filled with promises and organic cheques and lettuce. There were cupcakes sprinkled with hundreds and thousands of dollars and Pavola filled with strawberries and strawmen. Money for jam. No expense was spared.
There were loons and balloons and buffoons and much merriment and dancing bears abounded, frolicking about to tunes by the famous rock group, The Bear Behinds.
And that night when the Three Little Bears got into their great big bed with full tummies, they had big warm cuddles and fell blissfully asleep with contented smiles on their faces, happy knowing that everything turned out for the best and that all's well that ends well.
All was right with the world and that's where we will leave the story of the Three Little Bears, save for one thing.
Whilst they were sleeping, into the room crept someone they had not seen for a long time, who did not attend the party but hid in the bushes to watch all the guests arrive.
Her name was Kristina Goldilocks and she came from the same land as Barilaro Bear.
Creeping gently towards The Big Bed she watched as the Three Little Bears were gently sleeping and dreaming of honey and plenty of money and a big smile spread across her beautiful face. She tiptoed towards the door, turning off the light on the hill as she left.
There is more to this never-ending story but that, children, is a tale for another day.
For now, The Three Little Bears were living happily ever after.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Australia License
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