In the Olden Days of Yore there lived a Bear. He could not have been more lonely.

As a cub Bear befriended a Salmon who promised to return one day and play with him in the river.

Unfortunately, being a bear, this promise meant only one thing. Lunch. It was a moral quandary.

This quandary upset the bear so much that for a few of his teenage years he tried to be a vegetarian.

Unfortunately, being a bear, this wasn’t his nature. It presented a unique problem. He needed a friend he couldn’t eat.

And that ruled out the bluebirds, the foxes, deer, pretty much the entire populous of Eastern Yore.

Bear decided to set out on his own. Venturing away from his family into a world of darkness and light.

After days of wandering across the deep forest and through the red desert, the Bear came to a village.

The village gate was an imposing structure and beside it stood a crow who asked him a single question...

“Who is the Gallant keeper of the kept key?” And despite his good education the Bear did not know.

The Bear ate the crow and entered the village.

Apparently the crow himself was the kept key. Solving this riddle made Bear feel smart.

The smart Bear was henceforth introduced to the town as someone with a dexterous mind and ferocious appetite.

By which I mean Bear was introduced to the buildings as all the people had hidden behind barred doors.

However one creature didn’t hide, whether this was lack of foresight or lack of legs has never been determined.

He was a small conical metal creature and he zipped right up to Bear and flashed his pink lights.

“Beep,” he beeped, and continued with “Bloopy whizz zap beep beep whoop deep bloop,” and so on. The bear smiled.

Bear raised his paw, rested it on the creature, looked straight into its lights and said, “let’s be friends.”

The creature spun in a circle with such frenzied excitement that several bolts fell to the ground beneath it.

These bolts seemed to have kept him moving because suddenly he was locked in place and sparking from his rear.

Having never sparked from the rear but assuming it was bad, the bear said, “You are in need of repair.”

“Ge-beep” the creature said and flashed red lights on the left of his body.

Sadly, as is so often the case, the right was unilluminated, and the bear lacked the skills to fix it.

But after several more beeps and flashes from his new friend, Bear realized what he must do.

Bear needed to find a robotician, yes dear readers, a person educated in the fine art or repairing robots.

So he did what any bear of his reputation would do; he started knocking down doors.

Bear didn’t find houses with porridge too hot, for he was no fairy tale or symbol of a once great nation.

Bear found a small man cowering under a desk with a screwdriver. He didn’t eat him.

“Can you fix my friend?” The bear growled. The man shook his head, saying, “It isn’t my screwdriver.”

“Well, what can I do? I don’t have a posable thumb. I can’t fix my friend robot,” said the bear.

“Look,” said the screwdriver man. “I don’t have elbows and you don’t see me complaining.”

He extended his pale arms for inspection. The bear growled and turned to leave the room. “Wait” the man said.

“I might know someone to help you. My daughter Isabelle who has never spoken a word. This is her screwdriver.”

Just then a mousy girl with a red backpack swung down from a loft the bear hadn’t noticed.

Despite her tacit nature she was not shy. She grabbed the screwdriver from her father, and gently kicked the bear.

The Bear, intuitive as well as smart, immediately took her hand in his paw and led her into the street.

There lay the robot. A sad pile of right angle and steel that could break the teeth of a carnivore.

The girl sighed, then unzipped her backpack causing her tools to fall on the sidewalk amidst the decimated robot.

There are times, she thought, when we must hide the darkness in our souls, and this wasn’t one of them.

Unfortunately right then the bear was attacked by a family of angry crows. The kept-key keepers family to be precise.

“I am eternally silent,” Isabelle spoke the first four words of her life, and the crows, in deference, retreated.

Which left Isabelle to the task of repairing the robot. It took her exactly four minutes forty-four seconds.

Too pious for pride in the work she nevertheless expected payment and wordlessly extended an open palm to the bear.

The bear had nothing, so he ran to the river killed his former friend Salmon and offered him to Isabelle.

She accepted the fish and turned on the robot.

Robot beeped and rammed the Bear lovingly. But the Bear had some concerns about taking his new friend home.

However, they were small concerns having to do with the nature of subatomic particles and the shelf life of cheese.

Isabelle assured him these would not affect the Robot. But she showed him how his jet pack worked just in case.

The future days of Yore were bright as the Bear ascended from earth with a close friend in each claw.

Leaving me to tell you only that it is always worthwhile to seek unappetizing friends. The End.