Martha Bear's beverage of choice is always beary juice.  Since fresh cranberries are a seasonal fruit and not always available, the substitution of frozen cranberry juice concentrate works nearly as well.  

One day while enjoying her cherished elixir, Martha Bear® had a brainshower. 

Humans have brainstorms, but since the gray matter of bears is more simplified, more basic, ursines* or bears have brainshowers whenever a new idea strikes them.

If frozen cranberry juice mixed with water tasted so wonderful, how great would it be to just spoon the frozen concentrate from the can?

Wearing her very own Martha Bear® apron (with Martha Bear® heads), Martha climbed atop the three-legged stool she used to reach food that was up high in the cupboards.  She poked her nose into the freezer atop Jane Marie's refrigerator, and in short order, she sniffed out the object of her search.  Martha Bear®, who has no eyes, held it to her heart to verify she had indeed selected the frozen cranberry concentrate and not the frozen orange juice.

Climbing onto her church pew beside the dining table, Martha peeled off the lid and began spooning the red crystals into her mouth.  She alternated with sips of pineapple juice and occasional munches of orange because these are all the necessary ingredients for the original beary juice recipe.

Very soon, too soon for Martha's liking, the juice can was half empty and her tummy was beginning to feel full.  A few more spoonfuls and she would be satisfied, she decided.

A nap seemed to be a better thing to do, so Martha crawled up on the flowerdy-print couch, curled up and went to sleep. 

Awakening a napping bear is often difficult to do, but not in this case.  Martha Bear's own tumbling tummy was the culprit.  Realizing she was desperately thirsty, she scrambled as fast as a bear with an upset can to the kitchen sink, struggled to climb up on the stool once again and filled a glass with water.  Downing one, two, three and four glasses of water, Martha slide to the floor, her bloated tummy sloshing from side to side with each awkward step she took.  Martha Bear® dismissed the couch as being too much trouble to reach and made a pallet on the braided rug on the floor by the hearth, lying on her back to keep the pressure off her distended middle part.

About this time, Airborne, the white bear's grasshopper friend and adviser, flew through the parlor and saw Martha's uncomfortable position.  Once he understood the story of Martha's distress, it was Airborne's turn to have a brainsprinkle.

You get it.  Humans have brainstorms, bears have brainshowers and bugs have brainsprinkles.

:I know you won't be pleasantly disposed to this suggestion, Martha Bear®, but I have a solution that should prevent this predicament from befalling you ever again.”

:Oh yes, pl-e-a-se,” the suffering bear moaned.  "I'll do whatever you say.  I don't ever want to feel like this again.”

"Very well,” Airborne said.  "I propose a lock on the freezer.”

The shock at such a cruel suggestion, momentarily cut through Martha Bear's self-inflicted anguish.  Her mouth fell open at the horrible prospect.

Airborne recognized the gravity of his proposal and tried to soften the blow.  "We will only use the lock when you feel your willpower is weakening.  You just let me know when you think you're giving into the temptation of cranberry crystals, and I'll lock the freezer up.  I'll use a combination lock.  Since you admit that you're not a wiz at numbers, you won't remember the combination should you even learn it.  Thus, you will be safe from lure of the cranberry.”

By this point, Martha Bear® would have agreed to about anything to save her from herself.  And then it happened. 

The walls began to shake, the windows rattled and the cats hid beneath the bed.  Airborne grabbed onto the silk tassel that hung from the key in the china cabinet.  The birds on the fence, the squirrels in Pine Tree Place, and even the alligator crossing the sand dunes on his way toward the river froze.  Each waited for the aftershock to pass over.  They waited for Martha Bear's bear burp to end.

When it did, Airborne opened his eyes and looked at Martha Bear®.  She was sitting up, trying to hide the toothy grin behind her paws.  "Oh my.  Pardon me!  But I can't say how much better I feel.  My over-extension is gone, gone with the wind of my burp.  Her tummy went back to its normal watermelon size.

The motto of Nancy's canine staff suddenly entered Martha's head.  Why, there might be food.  There might be food!  This compelled Martha Bear® to say, "Now, about that lock proposal of yours, Airborne.  Perhaps we need to rethink things.”

Airborne shook his tiny head and wondered how long it would be before the next episode of ursine over indulgence occurred.  He glanced at the clock on the wall and took a guess.  

The End

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