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yank: I beg your pardon, that's my alarm clock. bird: Irresponsible indifference. For shame. I tell you, beware! Beware the bomb! (He goes off, muttering Roomily.) yank: What a morning. First the billboard, now the bomb. Til probably have nightmares about bombs. Better take a little bread and peanut butter before retiring, that way I might dream some beautiful dream—all about bread and peanut butter. Well, to bed. (Holding his clock, he sinks down into stump. The ticking subsides, the birds twitter.) Enter Fabian the Fox, stealthily, carrying a black box marked BOMB. fabian: Ah, this must be the place. Yes indeed, a hollow stump, they told me, where there lives a silly bear entirely surrounded by jars of peanut butter. (Cautiously he peers down into the stump.) Black as pitch down there. Hmmm, perhaps he's hibernating. Well, this will bring him out. (He places the box beside the stump.) Nothing like a bear for curiosity. And besides, my good gloomy friend, Bird McDermitt, has planted the idea in his head. Perhaps he is dreaming of bombs even now. Peanut butter, peanut butter! Oh my, how I love peanut butter! Now to wind my clock. (He takes an alarm clock from the box, winds it, replaces it and closes the box. The ticking begins again.) Now to coax him from his slumber. (He bends over the top of the stump and whispers loudly.) Bomb, bomb, beware the bomb! Beware, bear, beware the bomb, bomb! (He pauses. Silence.) Hmm, sleeps like a log. (He shouts.) Egad, I do believe there is a BOMB up here! |
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