The Berenstain Bears Get A Divorce
Angry clouds gathered at the big tree house down a sunny dirt road deep in Bear Country. Clouds that looked like marital strife.
The Bear’s marriage rainstorm started with drips and drops. Mama Bear got frustrated when Papa Bear interrupted her while she introduced the Family Politeness Plan and when he sneaked television during their no TV week. She certainly never forgave Papa for going into the woods with Brother Bear while she gave birth to Sister Bear at home by her lonesome.
Then one day, the storm broke. When Mama was washing the only set of clothes that each bear owned, she found lipstick on Papa’s shirt collar. Right away, she recognized the boysenberry lipstick of Dr. Gert Grizzly!
“Er, that’s berry juice, from when I went picking with Brother,” protested Papa weakly when Mama shoved the shirt in front of his nose.
Mama gave him the same withering look she gave Brother when he told that whopper about Little Lady eating his homework. “You’re full of applesauce, Papa Bear!” she cursed.
A confession spilled from Papa faster than a bee swarm charging from a rotten stump. “It’s true!” He sobbed. “I played banana-in-the-fruit-salad with our cubs’ pediatrician!”
Mama exclaimed, “I thought you resented Dr. Grizzly for pinching your stomach fat and putting you on a diet!”
“I like to be humiliated and dominated,” wailed Papa. “I love when Dr. Grizzly puts my arms and legs in bear traps and hurts me where my bathing suit covers.”
Mama gasped. “That’s why you wanted me to put my claws in your ‘secret bear cave’ on our second honeymoon at Grizzly Mountain Lodge. Papa Bear, you’re more twisted than a clothesline in a thunderstorm.”
“At least I’m not a frigid old sourpuss. You refused to play our special wrestling game all winter because you said you were ‘hibernating’!” huffed Papa.
“Well, now that it’s spring, maybe I’ll let Farmer Ben fertilize my lettuce patch, if you know what I mean,” Mama snapped.
“I don’t know what you mean,” replied Papa Bear, puzzled. “We don’t grow lettuce.”
Mama huffed and puffed. “Papa Bear, I want a divorce!”
“Just one minute!” Papa roared. “We had that third baby to force us to stay together. You know her, I think her name is Hammy.”
“It’s Honey,” Mama retorted, “and everyone forgot about her.”
Mama threw Papa’s tools and fishing rods on the lawn. Papa sulked to the “No Girls Allowed” clubhouse on Frog Pond, where he painted a new sign reading “No Ex-Wives Allowed.” Then, he called notorious swindler/divorce attorney Raffish Ralph. “I’ll take that meanie pants for everything she’s worth. I’m going after her prize collection of honeysuckle pie pans!”
When Mama got served divorce papers by Chief Burt Bruno, she went into Papa’s work shed and took an ax to the furniture he had built. Papa retaliated by turning a honey pot into an improvised Molotov cocktail and firebombing her quilt shop.
As their row-de-row escalated, each parent angled to become the cubs’ favorite. Papa tried to buy their love with a trip to The Wizarding World of Beary Potter, but he spent the weekend being a Galloping Grabby Gus with waitresses and crying in the hotel bathtub. On her weeks with the cubs, Mama tried self-improvement experiments like No Screen Time Week, No Gluten Week, and Coffee Colonic Week. When the cubs stayed at Papa’s rented treepartment on a dusty road on the run-down outskirts of Bear Country, Papa skipped the Chapel in the Woods and forced the cubs to attend the evangelical megachapel that met in Bear Country Mall.
This yo-yoing had the cubs in a tizzy. Brother Bear joined Too Tall Grizzly’s gang, started smoking bearijuana, and got arrested for putting a beehive in Mayor Horace J. Honeypot’s car. Sister Bear set fire to her Bearbie dolls just to watch them burn. Not a soul in Bear Country knows what happened to Honey.
Papa’s life rolled downhill. Dr. Gert Grizzly stopped playing grownup games with Papa and started a dom/cub relationship with Professor Actual Factual. After losing all his rent money at the dog track, Papa became a recluse, cooking wilderness stew at his off-the-grid cabin on Great Grizzly Mountain. He died young of loneliness and hypertension.
Mama returned to using her maiden name, Berenstein, and took bearty calls from Squire Grizzly. The cubs moved in with Grizzly Gramps and Gran, and the treehouse quieted down with no more trouble with money and no Papa Bear forgetting his manners. Truth be told, things got so downright pleasant that Mama poured some strawberry wine, drew a hot bath, and took an extra-strength muscle relaxer prescribed for Papa by — who else — Dr. Gert Grizzly.
