Mr. Wiggles Big Adventures (Not a Childrens Story)
Against your better judgement, the two of you walk over to the seedy looking bar. A sign outside the squalid establishment reads: Big Mama Jo's Watering Hole
You stop just shut of the door and turn to your little pink friend. "Now Mr Wiggles, I know how you can get when you're drunk," you lecture the bear. "And I don't want you starting any trouble. Promise me you won't get into any more shit tonight, okay?" Mr Wiggles giggles grabs his fake ID and shrugs indifferently. "I aint promising a God damn thing! Uha, uha, uha." And he heads into the bar.
You follow him in reluctantly. The inside of the bar is shrouded in a thick layer of cigarette smoke. Most of the haphazardly strewn about tables are devoid of patrons, but the bar is absolutely jam-packed with all sorts of unsavory looking characters. Mr. Wiggles strides up to one of them with a confident swagger. "Hey there boys and girls," he says. "My friend and I need you to move over so we can sit here too! Uha, uha, uha."
The unshaven man appraises the bear as best he can through the haze of cigarette smoke and his beer-goggles. "Holy shit," he mutters, nudging one of his drinking buddies. "It's a talkin' bear. Well go fuck yourself, little bear, cause I aint movin' an inch." "If that's how it's gotta be, then alrighty," Mr. Wiggles remarks offhandedly. He reaches into his backpack and digs around for a moment or two. Then he smiles and pulls out his handgun. He points it at the man. "Either move your ass or I'm going to bust a cap in it!"
"Mr. Wiggles, no!" you desperately implore him.
You stop just shut of the door and turn to your little pink friend. "Now Mr Wiggles, I know how you can get when you're drunk," you lecture the bear. "And I don't want you starting any trouble. Promise me you won't get into any more shit tonight, okay?" Mr Wiggles giggles grabs his fake ID and shrugs indifferently. "I aint promising a God damn thing! Uha, uha, uha." And he heads into the bar.
You follow him in reluctantly. The inside of the bar is shrouded in a thick layer of cigarette smoke. Most of the haphazardly strewn about tables are devoid of patrons, but the bar is absolutely jam-packed with all sorts of unsavory looking characters. Mr. Wiggles strides up to one of them with a confident swagger. "Hey there boys and girls," he says. "My friend and I need you to move over so we can sit here too! Uha, uha, uha."
The unshaven man appraises the bear as best he can through the haze of cigarette smoke and his beer-goggles. "Holy shit," he mutters, nudging one of his drinking buddies. "It's a talkin' bear. Well go fuck yourself, little bear, cause I aint movin' an inch." "If that's how it's gotta be, then alrighty," Mr. Wiggles remarks offhandedly. He reaches into his backpack and digs around for a moment or two. Then he smiles and pulls out his handgun. He points it at the man. "Either move your ass or I'm going to bust a cap in it!"
"Mr. Wiggles, no!" you desperately implore him.