くま-さん

This is Kuma. He's not much to look at, but he has a soft side that most folks never get to see. I wouldn't label that side as sentimental, but it smells a lot like romanticism, that's for sure; and his favorite tune is A Flock of Seagulls' Space Age Love Song, which should alleviate any doubt as to that schmaltzy aspect of his character. He is also quite a large cat, dare I say a big softy, hence his delightfully apposite moniker, but that's beside the point, really. What you need to know is that Kuma is lovable, huggable, and sensitive to the cravings of our post-postmodern identities. He's an avid student of Eastern prosody, as well.




I once saw a him devour a coked-out, anorexic midget whilst composing a pornographic haiku with bloodstained paws:


Sister softly kips
Bukkake will be her dream
Sperm I spray to thee



(To those who would jeer at a cat's ability to compose an epigrammatic Japanese verse form of three short lines, please cut the beast some slack; he began choking on a goddamn midget bone halfway through his provocative endeavor.)

He then proceeded to take a dump on my Pyromania record. I was pissed at the time, but in hindsight, I'd like to think that it was his way of encouraging me to expand my horizons, and for that, I thank him. (You should, too.)

You, Mr. Bear, are my hero.