Flaming Fiber Optic Bear


I can only explain this stupid bear in one way: my mother gave it to me.

“Just a little something for the apartment,” she said. I sat it on the corner table, feeling the bear absorb all of the energy in the room. But I try my best to use and appreciate every gift I receive, even if the gift looks like it came from the dumpster of a Cracker Barrel. In what has become a tradition, each year, I gag and groan as I pull Flaming Fiber Optic Bear out of the Christmas bin, and prop him on a table for the long, long month of December.

He needs an outlet all to himself, too–it takes his own AC power adapter to run this bear. The adapter is bigger than the one for the Atari 5200. And all for a thousand plastic straws that change colors.


His face looks like he’s tried, really tried to make a good impression. He got dressed up in his finest, bauble-adorned winter outfit and funny old man hat. He came to the neighbors’ house with gifts and hot cocoa. He stood on the porch and rang the door bell, excited for friends and festivities at Christmas. But no one was there because they forgot they even invited Flaming Fiber Optic Bear over that night. That’s his face — the crushing blow of dejection — standing there on the porch, as he notices the Christmas lights aren’t even turned on.

If the story of Flaming Fiber Optic Bear was a Christmas movie, it would begin with my initial Scrooge-ness and apathy towards the bear, but would end with me realizing some of his better charms. Except I haven’t got to the end of the movie yet. And maybe he has no charms. And if Christmas pooped, this would be Christmas’s biggest shit.

If Christmas Pooped. That would make a good children’s book that could be sold ironically to adults at Urban Outfitters Stores.

Here’s another entry for If Christmas Pooped.


If Christmas Pooped.


If Christmas Pooped.


Yeah, that’s what you get when search Google Images for “Christmas Poop”.

One thought on “Flaming Fiber Optic Bear

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s