It was very quiet. Abigail turned the packet of cereal upside down and emptied it noisily into her bowl. Pouring the last of the milk onto it, she stirred it around and around. No one else was up, they were all still in bed which was very strange. Climbing up and opening the door to the fridge she looked inside. Was there any orange juice? All she could see was some bread and a small bit of cheese. She prodded the cheese with her paw. It was very hard and didn’t look nice at all. Where were the cakes? They needed some shopping.
She look out into the hall. ‘Patrick,’ she called, ‘when will the food come, is it today?’
There was a soft sneeze and leaving her cereal bowl on the table, Abigail padded out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She looked around the door to the polars room.
‘Do you still have a cold?’
Tucked up in bed, Patrick nodded and pulled the blanket up around him. All she could see was his face and a big black nose.
‘Yes,’ he sniffed, ‘I’m not getting up today, you’ll just have to make do with what’s in the fridge.’
Abigail thought of the cheese and wrinkled her nose.
‘I don’t suppose there’s any hot honey and lemon?’ said Patrick hopefully. He sneezed again. ‘Preston and Grigs might like some as well. They’ve got your cold too. They’re still in bed.’
‘I’ll have a look,’ sighed Abigail.
Sitting by the polars laptop Abigail lifted up the screen. There was no honey, or lemon and most importantly no orange juice. Or cake! She’d seen the polar order the food before, so how hard could it be? She was a very clever bear and she was the only one who didn’t still have a cold. It was up to her to take charge. Flexing her paws she reached out towards the keyboard..
Breakfast seemed a very long time ago. Ordering food was much harder than it looked decided Abigail. There were so many pictures and words, it was very confusing. And very annoying! She clicked on a picture of a big cake, carrot, well it would have to do, there was a button beneath it that said “add now.” She added one. Then another. Leaning forward her snout brushed the screen. Carrots, her nose had added some carrots! In annoyance she prodded the screen hard. She didn’t want carrots. But now she’d added another bag! Abigail sighed, she really wanted some orange juice….
It took her ages to order the food and it hadn’t quite gone to plan. There was a lot in her basket but it wasn’t what she wanted at all. Abigail wondered what a cauliflower was, it didn’t look like a flower and the Tigers chocolate seemed to be in a jar. And what was a bean! And why were they in tins! She had tried to find some lemon and honey for the others, she was a kind bear, but the only lemon looking thing she’d seen seemed rather strange and round but she’d added it anyway. Shopping wasn’t at all fun she decided as more and more pictures appeared and finally swiping her paw hard up and down the screen, lots of things went into her basket. There! She was sure they would all be delicious. She pressed on the big red “checkout” button just as she’d seen the polar do. It would have to do and it should be delivered later today. Climbing down and stretching, she looked in the fridge again and her tummy rumbled, that piece of hard cheese was looking quite enticing…
Finally the door bell rang. ‘Just leave it all outside,’ said Abigail in her loudest voice. Carefully she opened the door and her eyes went wide. There were bags everywhere! As fast as she could she dragged them with her paws into the hall and closed the door. Panting hard she sat down beside them. There was an awful lot of food. Prodding one of the bags, a pack of frozen peas fell out. Then another. And another.
‘What’s happening?’ called Patrick, ‘why did you open the door?’
‘Just looking out,’ said Abigail quickly, ‘no reason.’ Pushing the bags as quietly as she could down the hall she started to unpack.
The kitchen floor was covered with tins, vegetables and packets of things Abigail didn’t recognise at all. Sitting above them on the table Abigail bounced the yellow tennis ball up and down. It had looked a bit like a lemon on the screen, she was sure of it. She was also sure she’d hadn’t ordered ten jars of strawberry jam, that stupid laptop must have got it wrong. It wasn’t her. Definitely not. Or eleven bags of frozen peas. Clambering down she hauled open the freezer drawer and stuffed them in. Packing the jam into the cupboard she leant against the door to try and make it shut. It sprung open again and she kicked it. The fridge was already full too and she still had two bags to unpack. Opening the oven door she pushed them both in, she would unpack them later. There was a sneeze from upstairs and she clambered down, reminding herself that she was in charge. They must all be hungry she’d make them a sandwich.
‘What’s this?’ asked Preston suspiciously, ‘it smells funny.’
‘Carrot and pickle sandwich,’ said Abigail, ‘it’s good for you. There’s a bit of cauliflower on the side.’
‘Right,’ said Preston faintly.
‘I’m taking one in to Patrick and Grigs.’
‘Lovely,’ said Preston lying down again, ‘I’m sure they’ll be delighted.’
‘Abigail,’ croaked Patrick, ‘did you make any honey and lemon? My throat is really sore.’
‘And mine,’ grrrd Grigs.
‘Hang on,’ said Abigail, padding back down the stairs, ‘I’ll bring some up.’
She’d bought quite a few jars of honey and reaching into the cupboard she pulled down the nearest one. Opening the lid she spooned some into three cups. It was quite hard with paws and oozed down the sides. Boiling the kettle she carefully poured the water in and tried to wipe off some of the honey. It was all over her fur and she tried to lick it off. Where was the lemon? Oh yes she didn’t have any, that stupid yellow ball had confused her … putting her head on one side she looked at it thoughtfully.
Putting the three mugs onto a tray she carefully carried them up the stairs. ‘Here you are,’ she said cheerfully, ‘mind your paws they’re a bit sticky.’ She put down the first by Patrick. It was very tiring to be in charge she decided, a little nap might be called for.
‘Abigail,’ said the polar, ‘why is there a piece of tennis ball in my mug?’ Padding out of the room, Abigail ignored him.
Tales by a bear 