Thirty Tiny Polar Bears
"Thirty tiny polar bears are living in your refrigerator.” 400 words. Go.
Man steps up to the counter at a pet store. He sets down a picnic ice chest.
Clerk: How can I help you?
Man: I’d like to return the Arctic Set. I bought it for my daughter two weeks ago.
Clerk: I remember. You’re the guy that didn’t buy the Polar House.
Man: And you’re the guy who told me I needed 30 tiny polar bears.
Clerk: So, what’s the problem?
Man: It’s been a nightmare. They’ve taken over the refrigerator.
Clerk: It’s a transition for them. Did you put up the nighttime sky? Usually that settles them.
Man: With the pin pricks in the black paper? Yes. I hung it from over the fridge light. North Star towards the door.
Clerk: How many did you defrost?
Man: We did what you said. We defrosted the smallest polar bear first. He was aggressive right out of the tray. He thought I was the one that froze him. Then we built the Arctic world exactly like the instructions: “Large flat ice floating freely in a baking dish with adequate clearance from the back wall. Hang the starlit sky from 3pm to 11am.” During the day we put gauze over the refrigerator light to make a winter sun.
Clerk: The ice floated freely on top of the water so they could get at the anchovies?
Man: Yes.
Clerk: Just one anchovy a day cut up real small?
Man: Yes.
Clerk: Finely minced?
Man: Yes.
Clerk: You only defrosted the one polar bear?
Man: My daughter thought the first one was lonely. She defrosted the others without asking. I should have never bought thirty. One of the babies got into a milk carton. Could barely see him. My wife was furious.
Clerk: It happens. Did you defrost the Inuits?
Man: Briefly.
Clerk: I may have to speak to my manager if you defrosted the Inuits.
Man: Well, that’s outrageous. You can see in the ice cubes that the Inuits are fine.
Clerk: And you planted the tundra grass in yogurt?
Man: Yes.
Clerk (indicating the ice chest): May I?
Man: I don’t know why you’re asking me. They’re yours. I want my money back.
Clerk raises a miniature polar bear on his finger. The polar bear stands up on its rear legs and paws the air fiercely. It has a yawning red mouth. You can just hear a tiny roar.
Clerk: They’re all here?
Man (long pause): My daughter defrosted the puffins, and we can’t find two of them. The others are in the trays.
Clerk: Not a boy and girl by any chance?
Man: You must be kidding me.
Clerk: You gotta be careful with puffins. They’re breeders, alright – which is why I told you to buy the Polar House... I’ll take them back. Show your receipt at the counter. I gotta get these little guys into the walk-in.
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the wonderful bastard offspring of David Attenborough and Monty Python --but yet completely Nathan. the more Dada far out you go, the more I fall in line. Inuits in ice trays. now that's what substack is for!
This is great. I feel like there should be a whole subgenre of disgruntled customers of enchanted goods.