Ranger Smith, I Have Brought You The Terrorist Known As Yogi Bear, Shaved, Naked, And Humiliated. Now I Seek My Reward.
No longer will he steal picnic baskets from the good people of Jellystone.
Ranger Smith, your inability to deal with the domestic terrorist known as Yogi Bear has led me to take matters into my own hands. For years, innocent visitors of Jellystone National Park had their experiences marred by horror and anxiety over having their picnic baskets stolen. Your inability to deal with him speaks to either your cowardice or your incompetence. Neither are traits I associate with one fit to wear the broad-brimmed, high crowned hat of a park ranger, and since I have done your job for you, I believe a reward is in order. But first, some context.
Something I’ve often asked myself is, “Why has God, in His infinite wisdom, bestowed the gift of speech upon this vile brute, Yogi?” To reward the animal? Or to punish we humans?
My military training gave me all the skills I needed to capture this beast (I used a big sandwich as bait and scooped him up with a giant butterfly net.) So I have shaved the wicked monstrosity and forced him to walk naked through the park, allowing the visitors of Jellystone to point and ridicule this bipedal miscreation who once struck fear into their hearts. The tourists scream for action to be taken. You must appease them, lest it be your blood they demand be spilled next.
And what of Yogi’s co-conspirator, the child, Boo-Boo? You needn’t worry about him anymore, I caught him with a bear trap and destroyed him. (Have you heard of these bear traps? Very useful, they probably could have saved you a lot of time and headaches.) You see, Ranger Smith, were I to allow Boo-Boo, the atrocious conduit with which Yogi finds partnership to commit sin after sin, to go off and reach his full maturation after I abducted Yogi, his master, I would have birthed a creature hungry for not only picnic baskets, but retribution. To underestimate one’s enemy is to invite death into one’s home.
Your path and mine have intertwined once before, Ranger Smith, though you did not know it then. The year was 2015. I had just returned home from a four year tour in Afghanistan. My sweetheart stayed true to me, and I decided to bring her to the spot where we had our first date: your Jellystone National Park. I planned to propose to her because she had something no other person has: a willingness to wear the same clothes and hairstyle that my ex-wife (whose death I am still haunted by) wore.
On that fateful day, I smuggled my DJ equipment in an oversized picnic basket (I planned to officially pop the question during an absolutely badass remix of The Black Eyed Peas’ “Let’s Get It Started.”) But this never happened. My picnic basket was stolen from me, and I was left emasculated and ashamed in front of my would-be wife. The clumsy bear destroyed my DJ equipment, and my love said she could never be with a man who was deceived by such an oaf, even if said oaf was smarter than the average bear. I didn’t just lose Janelle that day; I lost my chance at my dream career.
As a form of compensation for bringing you the creature, my request is that you approve my permit to perform my first DJ show in your park. I have finally saved enough money to re-purchase my equipment. Janelle has agreed to take me back, on the condition that I throw the rockingest concert this town has ever seen, which should be no problem for me.
As an added favor to me, I’d like to be here when you when you erase the bear that has ruined my life from existence. I want to see the terror in his eyes when — Ah, would you look at that? He escaped. Floated away by smelling a pie cooling on a window sill while I was talking. Well, forget I said anything. Sorry for bothering you.
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