Scarebear

In my dream of an anti-grav­i­ty rock­et­ship lived the Scare­bear. It was crash­land­ing on Earth because it was out of sol­id fuel and its pile drive[r] was fid­gety. It was good, [I sup­pose] that it flopped crunch­ing­ly right into the assem­bly bay of Amal­gam­a­tor.

Amal­gam­a­tor had real­ly bad hair but this was good because it meant he was a genius sci­en­tist. Scare­bear left his space-jalopy to be fid­dled with by the Big A and wan­dered off to find some action. Scare­bear had short stumpy legs and a rather expres­sion­less face but [luck­i­ly] exud­ed some strange extrasen­so­ry mag­net­ic creep force that drew love­ly women into its dig­it­less clutch­es.

It is a well known fact that all evil [and Scare­bear was obvi­ous­ly evil] express­es strong lust­filled ten­den­cies toward any women in its prox­im­i­ty. It is equal­ly doc­u­ment­ed that beau­ti­ful women are equal­ly drawn to this evil. This is explain­able only beyond a supralog­i­cal basis, [that is] how [in this case] an extrater­res­tri­al pseu­do-sen­tient ursine-esque sex­less and incor­ri­gi­bly evil Scare­bear can suc­cumb [or, per­haps even cause its coun­ter­part to suc­cumb] to mind­less sym­bol­ic rape behav­ior and that the nubile debu­tantes [often the vic­tims [or, per­haps insti­ga­tors] of this behav­ior] all are help­less before its undi­rect­ed gen­der­bent desire; all this is known beyond supralog­i­cal­ly as the 1950s Hor­ror Movie Direc­tor Simul­ta­ne­ous Projection/Rebellion Against [and at the same time For] Sex­u­al Repres­sion and [De]Mystification. [A fur­ther study of this top­ic will reveal answers to why the mon­ster always rips off the blouse or skirt of the girl, why the girl is in a swamp/abandoned building/cemetary, why she is wear­ing heels in these places, why she should have lis­tened to her par­ents and why exploita­tion cin­e­ma can make these state­ments while show­ing a man in a rub­ber sea mon­key suit grop­ing a wet shirt­ed coed who screams but does not seem to real­ly mind what is hap­pen­ing. It will also be a waste of time.]

This par­a­digm is what even­tu­al­ly drew Scare­bear [or, as some have tak­en to dream­ing him, Space­bear] and the Kiss Destroy­er into prox­im­i­ty. The Kiss Destroy­er was any­thing but the femme fatale vamp that she might appear to be. She was actu­al­ly a very nice young girl with a con­gen­i­tal neu­ro­mus­cu­lar irreg­u­lar­i­ty that freed her [or bound her from depend­ing on the point of view] to a rel­a­tive­ly dif­fer­ent world than her non-atom­ic-pow­ered-scooter­less rid­ing kin.

Scare­bear was wan­der­ing through Sta­tion City [a most bor­ing name its i‑look-like-a-bear-but-am-not-a-bear brain almost thought] when its field of his creep force inter­sect­ed the event hori­zon of the Kiss Destroy­er. Two min­utes lat­er they were strug­gling. Scare­bear was try­ing to unhitch her bra but was hav­ing dif­fi­cul­ty because [1] she was­n’t wear­ing a bra [2] Scare­bear’s arms could not bend [3] Scare­bear had no fin­gers [4] Scare­bear did­n’t know what a bra was and [5] she was giv­ing Scare­bear its first bearhug. Then Kiss Destroy­er kissed Scare­bear on the nose [prompt­ly expung­ing all evil from its sys­tem and turn­ing it into a sim­ple Space­bear on a road­trip in its rock­et-jalopy around the galaxy].

She took Scare­bear back to Amal­gam­a­tor [who hired her for no appar­ent rea­son with no appar­ent job and no appar­ent duties] and they sent Scare­bear on its way.

[Now, I did dream about Scare­bear and Kiss Destroy­er [which is a Machines of Lov­ing Grace song] but they were sep­a­rate dreams and I com­bined them and made a sto­ry about them because I want­ed to be ran­dom. [That is all.]]