William Crump the Bear-catcher

This new king was nothing but trouble. Boess, chief of the gods and overseer of all things, had, in the short time since William Crump had placed the ancient crown upon his head, become obsessed with the fledgling king.

“I will have him,” he announced to nobody in particular, as the other gods were doing their best to avoid him, not wanting to enter into a war between gods and men.

“You there, Boear, god of fearsome woodland creatures.”

“Yes Boess, what would you have me do?”

“Do? I would have you kill this new king.”

“Kill the king?”

“Yes, he is but a mortal, you are a god. Visit him in his ‘palace’, take the form of the most ferocious bear and rip the mortal to a thousand pieces.

It was not the lot of Boear to question a direct order from the king of the gods and, reluctantly, he took on the form of a ferocious bear and sought out the new king.

The new king, William Crump to friends, lived in a one-bedroom flat in Plunkton. It was not an area renowned for bears, or for anything much at all, so when he saw a real-life grizzly bear, hanging around just outside his flat, he fetched his camera, went outside, and took a series of pictures, before going back inside and securely locking the door, windows and cat-flap. From a cupboard to took out a can marked 'bear-away' and sprayed liberally through the hallway.

Unfamiliar with modern yale locks, Boear was still trying to work out how to get in, when he saw the new king uploading the pictures onto the internet.

‘The Bear-catcher’, was, William thought, a suitable pseudonym, and after setting up a facebook page under that name, he posted all of the pictures he had taken and boasted that he was the finest bear-catcher in the whole of Plunkton.

“Bear-catcher”, read Boear. He saw the images of himself that the new king had taken and, terrified beyond words, returned as rapidly as he could to the realm of the gods.

“He has captured me,” he explained a confused Boess.

“Captured you? But you’re here.”

“But he has captured my soul, my image, and he has caged it inside a machine.”

“He has caged your soul inside a machine?”

“Yes, and he now calls himself the bear catcher. Oh, my days are over. Outdone by a mere mortal.”

“But you’re not outdone. There’s nothing wrong with you.” But though he tried to reason, the god of fearsome woodland creatures was as stubborn as he was ignorant of digital photography, and the plan to send Boear to rip the king from ear to ear, was abandoned before it really began. It was time to think of a new plan.