THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 1

It was an ordinary Wednesday in late May, when Shy Yeti began his new life.

“I don't believe in possessions!” he declared as he picked himself up from the pavement and dusted down his fur with an unusually confident air about him. “I don't require to own anything - I have chosen to dispense with all belongings!”

This wasn't strictly true. It wasn't as if he'd had any choice in the matter, having been evicted from his flat and what with the bailiffs having taken away his prize pie collection to pawn off his debts.

“I don't care to work a 9-to-5 routine!” he continued.

This, one might comment, was pretty convenient in the circumstances. Lucky - because he'd been fired just that very morning for general laziness and repeatedly getting pie crust embedded in his keyboard. That and drool.

“I don't need to be tied down by love and relationships! I'm not someone who requires that sort of old-fashioned setup! I get all I need from life! Honestly, I find close human bonds only lead to upset!"

Also, it wasn't the sort of thing his friends were used to hearing. However, it was fortunate, for it seemed nobody wanted him and he snored too much for anyone to ever want him to share their bed...

“It's not snoring!! It's a special type of Yeti morse code...” he'd been heard to claim once.

This, of course, was clearly just a lie. A pile of complete bollocks, to be blunt.

“I am but a wandering minstrel!” he’d recently told Megan, his favourite pigeon, as he sat sunning himself in Trafalgar Square. “I shall make my living by travelling and using my talents...”

But Megan hadn't stopped for a lecture, in fact she’d rudely left a brown runny poo and then flown off.

However it wasn't all pie in the sky! This talent business wasn't just more of Shy's uncharacteristic gung-ho banter of late. For it was true, Shy did have some talents - he was pretty ok when it came to writing and had even published poetry books. Infact it was partly because he'd bought everyone drinks at the launch party for his POETIQUETTE collection of poems that he was now so low on funds.

“I don't need money!” he had also been overheard saying.

Actually this was also true. In theory.

For Shy had another talent. The power of persuasion that only a Yeti knows. This talent sort of came with being a Yeti, but it was one he'd never tapped into until now. Shy wasn't especially proud of his Yeti ancestry and had always sort of prided himself on being a shy, fluffy, friendly sort of Yeti. No need for any growling or use of force to get what one needed. But now times had changed. Now, perhaps, was the time to use the talents he'd been born with. Only in a nice way! If possible…

“Are you SURE you didn't bang your head, Shy?” enquired his friend Danbear when he explained his plan. “It's just that you're really different all of a sudden - you're quite out of character! I know you’re mad most of the time - but this just about takes the pie filling! Here, let me examine you for bruises!”

“Hands off, furryface!” snapped Shy. It was true enough - his head had rather hit the pavement when he'd been evicted. But - well - he didn't like to think too much about it, right now.

“Ok! Alright!” sighed Dan, “But just tell me! What in the name of Brian Blessed are you playing at?”

Danbear was a 7ft-tall behemoth of a bear who liked to wear armour and a Viking helmet. He lived and worked down the road from Shy and often helped advise him on his poetry. On hearing the news that Shy had lost his job and the madness that was his new plan of action, Dan had picked Shy up by the scruff of the fur and taken him over to The Stag near Victoria Station to give him a good talking to. “What's come over you, Yeti? You can't just go gallivanting around the city doing as you please - you need to find yourself a new job and somewhere to live. If Alanbear and I can help in any way, then we'll be glad to!”

Shy gave Dan a rather hard stare sensing his new regime simply wasn't being taken seriously enough. “Dan...” he began, “I don't want to be singled out for any special treatment. This is my opportunity to try again, start things from scratch. I want to explore my ancestral powers of persuasion!!”

“Your what?”

“You'll see!” sighed Shy. “I'm going to use all these new experiences to write my new book of verse!”

Danbear was shaking his head. “You have no set plan at all, do you, except for gallivanting!?!”

Shy smiled, it was well known that this was one of Dan's favourite words. Indeed, he'd once written a poem where the word appeared 17 times in two verses, just to keep his friend happy. “I have a hidden power Danbear, one that I've never spoken of before! I don't need a house or money or love or nuffin' - not even Girls Aloud, Belle and Sebastian or obscure Le Tigre cds!!”

"Or pies?"

"Neither shall I require pies! Pies have only ever bought me unhappiness..."

Danbear gave a noticeable gasp - this was fighting talk sure enough. All the same, Dan persisted, “You have concussion, Yeti! I think your brain's gone soft! I think you've eaten one too many treacle pudding! It's gone to your head! Wandering around like that - you'll be kidnapped and sold to the fur traders before you know it! I can't bear to see that happen to you - it repulses me!!!”

“I'll be FINE!!” Shy exclaimed. “I shall be there this Friday for your birthday drinks and I shall show you exactly how my powers of persuasion are doing! Drinks are on me...” With that Shy hopped from his bar stool and made a rather dramatic exit with a flourish of his fur and flick of the neck, before realising that the door he'd exited through was actually the ladies toilets. "You mark my words bear!!!" he added as he passed Dan once again (en route for the correct exit this time).

Dan sat and regarded his cider, sadly. How on earth was Shy going to be handing out free drinks when he was now effectively homeless and penniless? It just didn't make sense. But what could he do?

**

Meanwhile, outside it had grown dark and Shy was heading back towards Belgravia, where he had once worked. He had somewhere in mind to stay for the night - somewhere he should be relatively undisturbed, he figured.

"Before I go..." he'd said to the security guard just before he’d been flung out on his furry arse, "I wonder if you'd just hand me over the keys to the private garden in the square..."

The security guard had paused from being all burly, masterful and gorgeous and had looked back at Shy with a smile. It was then that knew his powers - those ancestral powers of persuasion which he'd never bothered to use - really worked. Shy's eyes had almost seemed to be casting a sort of spooky glow over the guard, who had suddenly handed him the keys without another word.
A little bit shocked by his own powers, Shy tried again and wondered if the guard was up for a night out on the town. “Have you got anything chocolatey I could have whilst I'm at it?” he asked instead.

Almost zombie-like the security guard routed around in his desk draw and produced a Kitkat, which he'd handed to Shy.

"I'll just take a half of it..." he'd said and given two fingers back.

Not literally. Well - not until he was kicked out of the building some minutes later, anyway.

So now Shy made his way into the park, using the keys that only residents of the square held. Of course, at this time of night no-one was about and the fence too high for even the drunkenest reveller to scale (unless they happened to be carrying a ladder, a pair of stilts or had a giraffe in their party - or some combination of the three.) So Shy felt safe. He felt a trifle smug too. “I'm coping admirably!” he said to himself. “I'm sleeping rough in central London and I'm doing it in style!!”

Needless to say, it wasn't in fact much of a test to his spirits as the night was clear and warm. It was almost the summer and, anyway, Shy had enough fur to keep him cosy. Whistling something cheerful by Morrissey, Shy ambled towards the pavilion. Once there he fumbled amongst his fur for a rucksack he'd acquired earlier - which contained a few fluffy pillows, a notepad and pen for poetry writing (apprehended from Harrods once he'd continued to practice his new talent - feeling all very Robin Hood about it...) and a candle and box of matches (which he'd picked up at the Ritz just before meeting Danbear.)

Lying back to enjoy the candle light in the pavilion, Shy smiled to himself and began to compose a poem. “I wonder what sort of verse Danbear would like for his birthday?” he wondered, “Something light and cheery or something morbid and depressing?" It was a toss-up; Dan seemed to like it either way. He'd definitely throw in a couple of long words just to make sure his friend was pleased.

Shy was becoming rather keen on his new talent! Afterall, it was the usual Yeti way - get what you want with a little bit of menace, something that he'd not liked to try until now - perhaps rather foolishly, he mulled. For too long he'd let people get the better of him - not any more!! Dan had certainly noticed. But so what? What matter that Shy wasn't his old self, that something had changed him. It was for the better overall. It wasn't just the loveless, jobless, homeless situation that had spurred him on though - but something else, something he couldn't exactly pinpoint.

“You're having a midlife fur crisis!” he told himself. “Just run with it - let it take you somewhere strange!”

Shy paused, his pen fumbling to find a theme for Danbear's birthday verse...

He had company.

Usually in the dark, Shy had extra-special Yeti eyesight. Even so, he couldn't see who it was that had joined him in the garden. He just heard the sound of someone moving close by.

He was about to cry out, ask who it was - but something made him stop... What if it was... him?

He wasn't sure whom exactly he meant - not consciously anyway - but something kept him silent all the same.

Now he could hear footsteps on the garden path - only moments from where he sat - and they were coming his way...

Who is the mysterious stranger? What surprises does Shy Yeti's new life hold in store and what happens when a birthday bear threatens to cause big mischief...

FIND OUT NEXT FRIDAY, 13TH AUGUST 2005 - SAME TIME - SAME PLACE...

SHY YETI IS COPYRIGHT PAUL CHANDLER/BEECHES BOOKS 2005.