I - Jack:

The first thing I remember noticing about myself was that I knew English. There was none of this, "I think, therefore I am," crap. I skipped all of that and went directly to trying to figure out why I knew English.

Of course, it might help for you to hear some background. See, I am a bear. And I don't mean the kind that lumbers around, roars, and bats at the backpack that you were stupid enough to think you could tie up out of reach. No, I am a teddy bear.

Don't give me that look. If I wanted your opinion, I would beat it out of you. If you don't want to keep reading, that's fine by me.

Of course you're wondering how a teddy bear could possibly be writing, let alone writing perfect English. Well, if I told you that, I'd be getting ahead of the story, wouldn't I? I mean, I didn't know at the time, so why should you?

Anyway, you can imagine my confusion. Being conscious for the first time that I recall, I tried desperately to remember anything at all. Failing that, I took to surveying my situation.

I was sitting among a horrendous jumble of colorful boxes. Immediately above, a random distribution of small, bright, colorful lights blinded me enough to prevent me from seeing much beyond said boxes.

I don't honestly remember how long I just sat there, but it was probably a while. Eventually, my self-absorption was interrupted by the voice of a little girl.

"Ooh! Look at all the presents Santa brought us!"

"Santa can't exist, you dummy," came the hushed retort from her slightly older brother. "If he tried to cover the whole earth in one night, that tub of lard would explode all over the map."

"Bravo," I thought. I liked that kid already.

"You're mean!" whispered the girl harshly. "I bet Santa brought me more presents than you, 'cause you're mean!"

"Yeah right!" the brother raised his voice slightly.

"I'm gonna count mine," said the girl.

"Oh yeah?" the boy retorted. "Well I'm gonna count mine too!"

What a bright bunch. I was already feeling lucky - right in the pit of my stomach.

Several minutes of shuffling caused the already-chaotic assortment of boxes to become more and more like the aftermath of a cyclone.

"What's going on here?" the mother asked, stumbling groggily out of another room. "You're not arguing, are you?"

"Nope!" the two little tots smiled and chimed in unison.

"Well good," The mother replied. "I'm going to make some coffee before I wake your father. Don't open any presents until then."

"We won't!" Another synchronized response.

They continued sorting - making their way to the back of the pile. I was at the back of the pile, and it wasn't long before the girl had claimed me.

Of course, I wasn't always as bitter as I am now. At the time, I was something of an idealist. And as optimistic as I was, I had only one response.

"Hi! I'm Jack. Wanna be friends?"

The girl dropped me.

"I know," I said, "let's hug!"

The girl screamed for her mother as she and her brother hid in a corner.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" asked the mother.

"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" I asked.

"George, GEORGE!" screamed the woman, dropping a perfectly good cup of coffee on the present-littered floor. "Get the shotgun!"

I said the first thing that came to my head. "Oh bother."

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