25 February 2012

Whatever Happened to Teddy? By Ivor Storey, Sunday Chronic

Ivor Storey reporting for the Sunday Chronic

As I was leaving an apartment block earlier today, my eyes were immediately drawn to the most shocking of sights. There amid the sun dappled clay paving stones, the water features (someone left the hose pipe on) palm tree adorned flower beds and a Buddha statue, I saw two arms and two legs, lying face down on the ground. A solitary, lifeless figure lay alone, unnoticed or ignored by those who had surely passed it by on their way to and from their daily chores, or outings to provide sustenance for themselves and their loved ones. Standing about one meter tall (at least when it was standing) I immediately recognized this sorrowful, hapless figure.

It was Teddy.

His fur naturally brown and not ruddied by the relentless Southern sun, Teddy lay motionless. I looked around. There was not a soul in sight. He was alone in his loneliness - apart of course from I, who stood helplessly looking down.

As I was about to raise him from his undignified position and place him somewhere that offered a more respectful resting place, (such as that nice little wooden seat near the letter boxes colorfully decorated with "No Junk Mail" stickers) I saw something out of the corner of my eye. My gaze lingered, not wanting to believe the immediate conclusions that forced themselves to the forefront of my mind. Was it...? Could it be...?

The weapon?!!!!

Within two arms length of Teddy, lay a small blunt object.

A mini cricket bat!

To me, it was elementary. This, to coin a phrase, was an ex Teddy. The cricket bat was the obvious weapon, no doubt left in haste by the perpetrator feeling the scene.

My news instinct kicked in immediately. Unfortunately, I had just been reading the British newspapers and their influence had seeped into my own creativity. That is why I initially blamed it on Johnny Foreigner, Muslims or swarthy looking gypsies. Fortunately, Integrity came rushing to rescue me from the Slough of Journalistic Injustice, and a more logical assessment began to form.

First, why did the culprit leave in such haste? Had he or she been seen? Were they disturbed by the unexpected passing by of residents or visitors? Finally, the most important question...
.. who would do such a thing to poor, dear Teddy?

If a stranger or news team, were to happen upon those who knew him, they would be told how nice he was, how he always kept himself to himself, how much he would be missed.

I could not interrupt my journey any longer. Reluctantly, I said my goodbye and placed Teddy where he would be protected from the now free flowing water feature, and trampling feet.

It was then a young woman, of no less than thirty years and five appeared. I lifted my head, determined to ask the hard questions - just like that man on the telly.

"Excuse me, but may I ask if you've left a bear behind" She looked at me, smiled and brushed the back of her skirt. "I hope not love, I may be forgetful but not that forgetful" and hurried on her way.

I proceeded with my journey, a journey hastened by curiosity and desire to find an answer. Quickly, I went about my business and hurriedly returned to the scene. The mystery had deepened.

Teddy had - gone! And so too had the alleged weapon!

In their place, now lay a yellow tennis ball, a multii-colored plastic football and a little blue, pink and yellow tractor.

Was this - the abandoned getaway vehicle?

Had the perpetrator deliberately leave a taunting clue?

Wherever you may be - be safe
Copyright Mike Hitchen Online, Lane Cove, NSW, Australia. All rights reserved