Bathroom Monologue: The True Story of Teddy Bear

The story about Theodore Roosevelt and the teddy bear? That’s all a lie. Sure, he had plenty of company and Roosevelt had many lackeys, but they were all there to try and calm the former President down. He was a madman!

They didn’t hunt down the bear, club it and tie it up for him. Heavens no! They were desperately trying to untie before Cousin Ted got back. He’d captured one bear, you see, for the after party, and was out slaughtering the rest of its family. That was the kind of man Theodore Roosevelt strove to be. He fought male brown bears by hand, claiming to be a sportsman, only to kick them below the belt when they got the slightest advantage. He only used a gun when two were lined up so he could fell them with a single shot, to tease and appease the ladies. You know how Walt Disney used to get in trucks and drive around to scare lemmings off cliffs for his movie? He got the idea from Cousin Ted, who drove entire families of bears off cliffs for laughs and a cheap lay.

Why would a man do this? Was he a monster? Out for revenge? Perhaps drowning his sorrows in the cheap joys of man-on-animal violence? Wise historian, you’ve already guessed what heartbreak drove this former president to mass bear slaughter, haven’t you?

It was love. Love of the sweetest bear that ever roamed the American wilderness. The bear that stole the breath away from him, which was not such an effort given his asthma, but still a rare feat for a thousand-pound lady of another species. She drew his attention one summer when he held the presidency and their affair quickly became legendary. Oh, the bedding that had to be secretly burned, and you’ll never look at that portrait of George Washington the same way again if I tell you how the scrap at the bottom was torn.

But her family refused their love. They ostracized her, and though Cousin Ted offered to get her a job as a Congressional gofer, she knew she simply wouldn’t fit in. America was not ready for a brown bear as its first lady. She knew he’d run again. She was a wise bear.

She was found in a national park, poisoned. Experts suspected foul play, but Roosevelt diagnosed her with a broken heart. He cut a bloody rampage through the bear population for years afterwards, until Taft got a little too hairy for his liking and required challenging for the presidency. Her prophecy came true.

Roosevelt was so swept up in his bear hating that he never thought one of them was his son. It was the great secret she took to the grave, but somewhere out in the wilderness today there lurks a bespectacled Teddy Bear Roosevelt. His mustache leaves him unmistakable. One simple blood test is all it will take and his political lineage will be proven. Then he’ll run for the seat his father never lost, to empower one of America’s least preserved minorities. Yes, my countrymen: a bear will run for president, and he’ll win, because there’s nothing cuter than a teddy bear.