5:44:13, 5:44:14, 5:44:15. There were only

5:44:13, 5:44:14, 5:44:15. There were only a few seconds left, before the boy was going to wake up. I hurried, placing it into my hand. I looked again: 5:44:55: Time for Plan B.

I jammed my stinger full of tranquelizers into the little boys' neck. There, that should buy me more time to feed. I lowered my proboscis to his neck and began to

sniff. Was that garlic? Damn kids' obsession with pizza! And he had his fingers crossed! As the tot lay napping I felt a pull on my cape. "Mess with him, mess with me." said teddy.

Then Teddy Ruxpin took that damn hard cover book and threw it at my head. I had to admit that little bear had a good pitching arm. Blood started to drip from the cut & I saw red.

I rushed Teddy Ruxpin and ripped out the cassette tape, and replaced it with Justin Beiber's latest. Teddy immediately slumped in the corner and started snorting coke. Thank god.

That was a close call. Teddy Ruxpin was enjoying his coke and Beiber music when Grubby came in like a wrecking ball. Who put in the Miley tape? The Adventures of Teddy Ruxpin were

his batteries ran low. Teddy Ruxpin slowed down and his speech slurred. His cellphone was wear he left it by the pool. He struggled to call for help as energy drained from his

nearly depleted made in China nicad battery. "911, what is your emergency?" "It's...uh...I'm...uh...uh...ugh..." "Sir, this is 911. We don't appreciate crank calls from bears

in pajamas." I wondered how she knew I was wearing pajamas as I hung up. So much for that ploy. They wouldn't be sending paramedics for lunch. It's hard being an urban bear.