Super Happy Party Bears--Staying a Hive

by Marcie Colleen

  SUPER HAPPY PARTY BEARS

  STAYING A HIVE

  MARCIE COLLEEN

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  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

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  TO ALL OF THE BEES IN MY HIVE AND ONE VERY SPECIAL BUG

  CHAPTER ONE

  Welcome to the Grumpy Woods!

  Just kidding. Go away!

  In the past, the animals of the Grumpy Woods have given new critters hints that were ignored. First, they built a tall wooden fence to keep out certain bears. Certain bears, meaning the dancing, singing, doughnut-chowing bears. But a bunch of beavers chewed the fence down and used it to build a dam. A very nice one, actually.

  Then there was Humphrey Hedgehog’s masterpiece: the rock-and-stick Grumpy Wall. Mostly rocks, with a row of sticks along the top. It worked really well to keep out those who follow the laws of gravity. But winged creatures like woodpeckers? That’s another story.

  So there is a new Mayoral Decree regarding woodpeckers. And knock-knock jokes. Neither are considered funny or welcome in the Grumpy Woods. The towns-critters don’t laugh much at all, because every animal here is, well, GRUMPY.

  If you insist on telling a knock-knock joke, you’ll quickly find yourself dragged down to City Hall to face the mayor himself. Sherry Snake—or Sheriff Sherry, as she prefers to be called—patrols these parts along with Squirrelly Sam. They both like tattling on those who break the rules.

  Mayor Quill’s list of Mayoral Decrees keeps getting longer and longer. He’s up to Mayoral Decree 1,235: Just don’t. Yet rules don’t seem to be enough.

  Humphrey Hedgehog, the assistant deputy to Mayor Quill, insists that more action is necessary. He wants to build a new wall of pinecones, even though the first two walls didn’t work.

  Squirrelly Sam has proposed creating a dome over the Grumpy Woods to seal it off from the outside world, but when Bernice Bunny asked him how he was going to do that, he simply stuffed his mouth full of nuts and acted as if he couldn’t hear the question.

  Bernice Bunny then suggested digging a castle moat around the woods, like in the kingdoms she’s read about in her books, but Dawn Fawn pointed out that they didn’t have a castle. And that still water attracts mosquitoes.

  Needless to say, they haven’t agreed on anything yet.

  And so, every day, everyone in the Grumpy Woods wakes up already out of sorts and orders up some breakfast—a bowl of “BAAAAHHHH, humbug!” and a crusty stack of whoop-dee-doo.

  That is, everyone except the Super Happy Party Bears.

  If you follow the carefully placed sticks, laid out in the shape of arrows, up the flower-lined path, you’ll see the welcome sign out front. At the Party Patch, the Headquarters of Fun, life is very different. LIFE IS SUPER. Life is happy. And life is full of parties!

  And so, on any beautiful morning, the Super Happy Party Bears wake up already smiling and order up some breakfast—a half order of freshly baked exclamation points and a side order of Yippee skippee!

  Nothing annoys everyone in the Grumpy Woods more.

  Except when the bears have a party.

  And they are always having a party.

  CHAPTER TWO

  While bees collected pollen from the cheery flowers outside the Party Patch, pans clattered and batter splattered inside. Clouds of baking flour floated through the air as the daily doughnut preparation got into full swing.

  Mixers whirred and large spoons stirred to the beat of the Super Happy Party Band’s version of “If You’re Happy and You Know It.” Their all-time favorite verse of the song was “If you’re happy and you know it, lick that bowl.”

  The littlest bear had the most important job: doughnut decoration. A dash of powdered sugar here and a handful of rainbow sprinkles there.

  The doughnuts looked spectacular. He adjusted his chef hat and got ready to embellish the next batch with chocolate frosting stripes.

  Ziggy, the front man of the Super Happy Party Band, sang, “If you’re happy and you know it, hum a tune,” and the littlest bear hummed along, hum-hum-hum. And his hat seemed to hum along with him. Actually, it sounded more like a buzz-buzz-buzz.

  “Did you hear that?” the littlest bear asked Shades.

  Shades peered over his star glasses and asked, “Did I hear what?” Then he jumped back into the song and sang out, “If you’re happy and you know it, lick that bowl!”

  As the song went on, so did the humming.

  The littlest bear then turned to Jacks, who was standing in the biggest bowl, kneading dough by jogging. Jacks’s morning dancercise routine was a key part of making the doughnuts.

  “Excuse me, Jacks, but do you hear buzzing?”

  Jacks was too busy counting his reps and remembering to breathe to answer the question.

  The buzzing continued. After questioning more bears, the littlest bear finally checked in with Bubs, who was in the corner blowing bubbles. Bubs always had some party wisdom to share.

  “Mr. Bubs,” asked the littlest bear, “do you happen to hear a buzzing?”

  The bubble on the end of Bubs’s wand grew and grew as he blew with a steady, calm breath. When the bubble was ready to take flight, Bubs carefully lifted the littlest bear’s chef hat to reveal a bee wearing big glasses and happily dancing along to the music. The bubble slowly drifted away, wobbling.

  “I have a bee in my bonnet!” cheered the littlest bear. “A new friend!”

  When the bee realized he was being watched, he froze.

  The music stopped. So did the doughnut making, as all the bears gathered around to see.

  “He’s so cute!” Jacks said.

  “I will call him Stripey,” said the littlest bear.

  But then Stripey cleared his throat. “Actually, the name’s, um, Stan. But seeing as I am in hiding, perhaps a name change would be good for me.”

  “Stan!” cheered the bears. “Hooray for Stan!”

  “Shhhhhhh!” said Stan. “I’m in hiding. Remember?”

  “Are you a honeybee?” squealed the bears.

  “More like a bumble—or bumbling—bee,” said Stan, pushing his thick glasses up on his nose.

  “But are you a honeybee?” squealed the bears.

  “Yes. I am a honeybee by trade. I’m just not very good at it. You see, I, uh, I have a horrible pollen allergy.”

  Stan sneezed. “It puts a damper on the whole honey thing. I get within a few inches of a flower and I become a drippy-nosed, red-eyed mess. Trust me, it’s not a happy sight.” Stan pulled out a hankie and blew his nose. “I’ve begged for a desk job, but the only opening is in sales. I don’t know the first thing about selling honey. I mean, how do you even find customers?”

  “WE LOVE HONEY!” cheered the bears.

  Suddenly, Stan had an idea.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mayor Quill carefully styled the remaining quills on his head. The truth was, with all the Mayoral Decr
ees he’d written recently, one quill at a time, the porcupine had a bit of a bald spot. He gently hid the thinning spot with a comb-over and reminded himself to pluck quills for writing new decrees from his rump until the quills grew back.

  “You are still a handsome devil,” he said to himself.

  Just then Humphrey Hedgehog appeared in the doorway, carrying Mayor Quill’s breakfast tray. “Why, thank you, sir,” said Humphrey, puffing up his chest. “I have been working out.”

  Humphrey carefully set up Mayor Quill’s breakfast just as he liked it: Juice to the left. Spoon to the right. Bowl of twigs and berries front and center. Last but not least, Humphrey placed a napkin, perfectly folded in a triangle, under the spoon and set a vase of colorful flowers at the far corner. Believe it or not, even grumps enjoy flowers.

  The mayor heard something. “Mayoral Decree one hundred three,” grumbled the mayor. “No humming.”

  “I wasn’t humming,” said Humphrey.

  Mayor Quill grunted and lumbered over to eat his breakfast.

  As the mayor’s whole head disappeared into the bowl, Humphrey flipped through the pages on his clipboard in preparation for his morning report. He had learned early on not to interrupt the gobbles and grunts. Quill storms were still possible while the mayor was eating. The hedgehog had discovered that the hard way. And one particular quill had already escaped the comb-over and was aimed straight at Humphrey.

  Mayor Quill abruptly stopped eating. “There’s that humming again.”

  “I heard it, too,” said Humphrey. “It sounded like a deflating balloon.”

  “Not at all,” said Mayor Quill. “A balloon losing air sounds more like pfffffttt.”

  “True, sir. What I meant to say is that it sounded like an old whoopee cushion.”

  “Are you kidding?” responded the mayor. “An old whoopee cushion sounds more like ffffffffffff.”

  “Absolutely, sir. I am not quite sure what I was thinking. It sounded more like someone letting the air out of your car’s tires,” said Humphrey.

  “I don’t have a car!” said Mayor Quill through clenched teeth. His fist came pounding down on the desk, toppling over the vase of flowers. A cloud of bees, suddenly disrupted from their pollen collecting, filled the office.

  “B-b-b-bees,” gulped Humphrey.

  “No worries,” said Mayor Quill. “They won’t bother us if we don’t bother them.”

  Bees buzzed all around for several minutes. The mayor and Humphrey sat still, careful not to move even a single quill.

  “The buzzing is actually quite lovely,” whispered Humphrey.

  “Indeed,” said Mayor Quill.

  “I feel like a flower.”

  Just then Squirrelly Sam, the Grumpy Woods’ nosy forest gossip, appeared, scrambling down from the branches above.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Mayor,” he shouted over the hum. A bee landed on Sam’s nose.

  Sam’s eyes crossed to look at the bee. Sam took a deep breath and … “BEEEEEEEEEEEE!” he screamed as he swatted and swung at the swarm with his bushy tail. “Get it off me! Get it off!”

  “This is Squadron Twelve. We’re under attack,” reported the leader bee into a walkie-talkie. “Activate SWAT team.”

  The swarm promptly took the shape of a giant fly swatter and THWACKED those townscritters up one grumpy side and down the other.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The woods were abuzz. Overnight, a hive of bees had moved into the many holes carved by Wallace Woodpecker along the Grumpy Wall. Now they were open for business. The honey business, that is.

  The Grumpy Wall was hardly recognizable. On both sides, a giant beehive swallowed up the rocks and twigs. Busy bees flew in and out of every crack and hole, now filled with oozing honeycomb.

  Stan hesitated and turned to the twelve beaming bears behind him.

  “You aren’t exactly the delivery Queen Beetrice is expecting, so I need you all to be very quiet and wait here for a minute, until I give you further instructions.”

  “Like a surprise party?” whispered the bears.

  “Yeah, like a surprise party,” whispered Stan.

  “We love surprise parties!” cheered the bears.

  Stan braced himself as the cheer echoed through the Grumpy Woods. But luckily, no one seemed to notice. He wiped his brow and mouthed the words Okay, stay right here. The Super Happy Party Bears mouthed the word Okay. And gave thumbs-ups. But as Stan turned toward the hive, he caught a bit of pollen in his nose.

  ACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

  Immediately, a swarm of bees appeared. They moved as one and took on the shape of a stop sign.

  “Halt right there!” the bees said in unison.

  “We’ve located B-63, Your Majesty,” said one bee into a walkie-talkie. “He’s empty-handed. We’ll bring him in for punishment.” The swarm formed the shape of a cage around Stan.

  “Please, B-1, I can explain,” begged Stan, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

  “Save it for Queen Beetrice,” said B-1 as all the bees swarmed to form the shape of an arrow pointing toward the hive.

  The Super Happy Party Bears marveled at the fun shapes. “Oooh! We LOVE charades!”

  The swarm stopped.

  “Who are you?” the bees asked while taking on the shape of a Super Happy Party Bear.

  The bears burst into applause.

  “Move along. There is nothing to see here,” said the bees, creating the shape of a stern-faced bee.

  The bears burst into applause once more.

  “Do it again!”

  “More! More!”

  “Do Quilly next!”

  However, the swarm did not listen. Instead, the bees turned their attention back to their prisoner.

  “Move it, B-63!”

  “Perhaps we should get these lovely customers their honey first,” said Stan.

  “HONEY!” cheered the bears.

  The littlest bear pulled out a loaf of cinnamon bread and started handing out slices. He gave one to each of the bears, who held the bread gently between their paws, at the ready for a huge squeeze of honey.

  Just then a crackle came over B-1’s walkie-talkie in the form of a very agitated voice. “What is the holdup?”

  At the sound of Queen Beetrice’s voice, the entire swarm bowed their heads and shoulders. B-1 fumbled and dropped the walkie-talkie. Stan quickly picked the device up and stammered, “Uh, on our way, um, Your Majesty. Just taking care of some, um, of our customers first.”

  “Customers? It’s about time this colony did something right,” barked the queen. And then the line when dead.

  Stan sheepishly handed the walkie-talkie back to B-1 and left the middle of the swarm. He looked out at the bears.

  “So, uh,” said Stan, hovering nervously, “who wants honey?”

  “WE DO!” cheered the bears.

  “Ahem.” Stan cleared his throat in the direction of the swarm. “You heard Queen Beetrice. These customers need honey.”

  The swarm buzzed into action. Three of the bees flew into the hive and then returned, hoisting an enormous spigot over their heads. With the help of the rest of the swarm, who had taken the shape of a hammer, they drove the spigot right into the bulging side of the Grumpy Wall hive. Last, they placed a bucket underneath to catch the honey.

  The bears licked their lips as they watched the bees turn the handle of the spigot. Like water from a faucet, honey began to flow. Yet it didn’t make it to the bucket. Instead, the line of bears approached, and one by one they held their slices of cinnamon bread under the nozzle. When the bread was gone, they simply drank straight from the tap. They guzzled, gulped, and squeezed every last drop the bees had created.

  “Life is a flower of which love is the honey,” said Bubs afterward. He lay back on the grass, his fuzzy blue belly round with satisfaction.

  “So we just wait here, then?” asked Mops.

  “Um, for what?” asked Stan.

  “The next batch!” said the littlest bear.

&nbs
p; “SUPER HAPPY HONEY TIME! SUPER HAPPY HONEY TIME!”

  The entire hive was dry. Not a drop of honey remained.

  Stan had created monsters.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  While the worker bees hurried to replenish the honey, Stan was called into Queen Beetrice’s office for a meeting. He sat in the waiting room, pretending to casually flip through this month’s copy of Beedazzled magazine. Instead, he recited the rules for “if you ever meet the queen” over and over in his head. He had memorized these rules when he was a young bee-ling.

  “The queen will see you now,” announced the security bee at her doorway.

  Stan nervously wiped his sticky-honey hands on his belly, took a quick puff on his inhaler, and fluttered through the door.

  Inside, the air was cloudy with pollen. Stan could feel his head stuffing up as he bowed. His nose began to itch. His eyes began to tear.

  “Why, if it isn’t today’s hero,” said Queen Beetrice. “B-63?”

  Stan nodded and could feel the congestion in his head shift from side to side as he did.

  “What is your real name?” asked the Queen.

  It was then that Stan’s nose could take no more. He pinched, he squirmed, and he held his breath, but it was no use.

  “ACHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he sneezed everywhere.

  “Interesting name, Achoo,” said Queen Beetrice. “I’ll get on with it. I’ve asked you here because it has become evident that the market is calling for more honey. Do you agree?”