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Once upon a time there was a little bear. His name was Fler, but all the other animals in the forest called him Swervy, because Fler would sneak into his uncle's den and drink his bearshine. When bears drink bearshine, they walk and talk a little funny. Especially little bears. *** One starry night, Fler was swerving through the forest after a particularly liberal sampling of his uncle's bearshine until he came across a clearing at the crest of a hill. Fler craned his neck toward the sky, correcting his drink-induced loss of balance by planting his left fore-paw into the dry grass. The stars looked as if they were filtered through a diffraction grating. Yellows and reds and oranges and purples scattered in his vision, but he blinked it away, and was again standing in the constant pale light of the stars and a bright half-moon. He wondered whether any of the other forest animals were watching, but knew that the night was too soft and peaceful for anyone to be rustling about. Except for himself, that is. Ever since his best friend Gur died, Fler felt that the woods looked and felt different. He felt alone. Then Fler found a dead baby bear. He rolled it over, and noticed a blinking red button in the ground underneath it. Distracted from the horrible sight of his dead cousin by childish curiosity, Fler placed his paw on the red button and pushed. *** A few moments of nothing, and then Fler exploded violently, blood, fur, and brains showering the bald hilltop with vile, steaming gore. The button stopped blinking.