Chapter 7 — The Big Bad Wolf Problem
It was Medved who noticed him first.
This was not surprising.
Medved noticed everything first.
He had been monitoring the forest perimeter cameras at 7am on a Tuesday — a routine security check that had become considerably more thorough since the Karen Grassflot incident — when something small and grey and caped appeared at the edge of the treeline.
Medved leaned forward slightly.
The small grey caped figure stopped behind a large oak tree.
It put down a briefcase.
It straightened a pompom hat.
It took a very deep breath.
It huffed.
The oak tree did not move.
The figure huffed again, considerably harder.
A single leaf drifted down from the oak tree.
The figure appeared to consider this a partial success.
It picked up its briefcase.
It moved to a slightly closer position.
It huffed again.
Medved watched all of this with the calm expression of someone who had hacked Walmart’s entire pricing system and was not remotely concerned about a small wolf practicing on trees.
He closed his laptop halfway.
He opened it again.
Everyone,” he said, without raising his voice. “Come and look at this.”
Within four minutes the entire household was at the front windows.
Seven faces peered through the glass at the small grey figure making its determined way through the forest toward Bear House.
Boris had not yet seen them.
Boris was focused.
Boris had a plan.
The plan was in his briefcase.
He had consulted it three times since leaving the forest.
“He is very small,” said Yogianna.
“He is exactly my size,” said Eugene, with great interest and what appeared to be the beginning of tremendous personal affection.
“He has a briefcase,” said Danger Bear, with professional respect.
He has been practicing on trees,” said Medved. “For approximately forty minutes.”
“On TREES?” said Permafrostia.
“The trees are unaffected,” confirmed Medved.
“Crikey,” said Outback Bear. “What’s he want?”
He is a wolf,” said Ava. “I believe he wants to blow the house down.”
Everyone considered this.
“He can’t,” said Medved.
“No,” agreed Ava. “The foundations go four metres into bedrock. The wind resistance rating is two hundred kilometres per hour.”
“Da,” said Medved serenely.
They watched Boris emerge from the treeline, straighten his cape, adjust his pompom hat, consult his briefcase one final time, close it with a decisive click, and begin walking up the garden path with the purposeful dignity of someone who had absolutely no idea he was being watched by seven faces pressed against a window.
Eugene waved.
Boris did not see this.
Eugene waved harder.
“Someone should answer the door,” said Ava.
Silence.
“I went last time,” said Permafrostia, which was not strictly relevant but felt relevant.
“I have a protocol for wolf related situations,” said Danger Bear, producing a laminated document. “It is fourteen pages. I could present—”
“I could monitor from here,” said Medved, opening his laptop.
“I’m a bit tired,” said Outback Bear, which was always true.
“I’ll go,” said Eugene.
No,” said everyone simultaneously.
Eugene stopped.
He looked at his Cheerios.
He looked at the door.
He looked at the small grey figure with the pompom hat who was exactly his size approaching the porch.
He had already decided.
He had decided approximately four minutes ago when he first saw Boris.
He was simply waiting for everyone to stop paying attention.
Outside, Boris had reached the front porch.
He placed his briefcase carefully on the porch step.
He rolled his shoulders.
He cracked his tiny knuckles.
He took the deepest breath a very small wolf had ever taken in the history of very small wolves.
He huffed.
Bear House did not move.
He puffed.
Bear House continued to not move.
He huffed AND puffed simultaneously, which was his most advanced technique, reserved for particularly stubborn structures.
Bear House remained completely, serenely, architecturally immovable.
A leaf fell from the Banyan tree.
Boris looked at it.
He looked at Bear House.
He looked at his briefcase.
He opened it.
He consulted his plan.
More huffing required,” said the plan, in very small handwriting.
Boris closed the briefcase.
He prepared for a second attempt.
Inside, the discussion about who should answer the door had reached no conclusion because everyone was still watching Boris and offering reasons why it shouldn’t be them.
Nobody noticed Eugene was no longer at the window.
Nobody noticed Eugene had collected his Cheerio box.
Nobody noticed Eugene had reached the front door.
Nobody noticed Eugene had opened it.
Boris was mid-huff when the door opened.
He stopped.
He turned around.
He looked at the door.
Standing in the doorway, red vest slightly crooked, Cheerio box under one arm, expression of pure delighted recognition, was a baby panda who was exactly his size.
Boris looked at Eugene.
Eugene looked at Boris.
They were precisely eye to eye.
Boris had never been precisely eye to eye with anyone before.
This was unexpected.
Boris straightened his pompom hat.
“I,” said Boris, with tremendous dignity, “am Boris. I am ze Big Bad Wolf. I have come to huff and puff and—”
Eugene held out a Cheerio.
Boris stopped.
He looked at the Cheerio.
He looked at Eugene.
Eugene continued to hold out the Cheerio with the patient generosity of someone who could not imagine anyone not wanting a Cheerio.
“Boris does not want—” Boris began.
Eugene waited.
He looked at the Cheerio.
He looked at Eugene.
Eugene continued to hold out the Cheerio with the patient generosity of someone who could not imagine anyone not wanting a Cheerio.
“Boris does not want—” Boris began.
Eugene waited.
The Cheerio waited.
Boris looked at it for a considerably long moment.
”…What flavor is zis?” said Boris.
“Honey Nut,” said Eugene seriously.
Boris considered this.
“Da,” said Boris.
He took the Cheerio.
He ate it.
He looked at Eugene.
Eugene beamed so hard his ears wiggled.
Behind the window, seven faces watched in absolute silence.
“He took the Cheerio,” said Permafrostia.
“Of course he did,” said Ava.
“This is a MEDIUM situation,” said Danger Bear, reaching for his flowchart.
It is not,” said Medved.
“It might be,” said Danger Bear.
“It is a small panda offering a Cheerio to a small wolf,” said Medved. “It is a SMALL situation.”
“The wolf is supposed to be blowing our house down,” said Danger Bear.
“He is eating a Cheerio,” said Medved.
“Crikey,” said Outback Bear.
Outside, Boris and Eugene regarded each other with the solemn mutual recognition of two small creatures who had both spent considerable time being significantly smaller than everyone around them.
Boris looked at his briefcase.
He looked at Bear House.
He looked at Eugene, who was already holding out a second Cheerio.
“Boris will still be blowing ze house down,” said Boris, accepting the second Cheerio. “Zis changes nothing.”
Eugene nodded very seriously.
Boris has a plan,” said Boris, patting his briefcase.
Eugene offered him a third Cheerio.
Boris ate it.
“Tomorrow,” said Boris. “Boris will return with a much bigger huff.”
“Okay,” said Eugene.
“Ze house will definitely blow down tomorrow,” said Boris.
Okay,” said Eugene.
“Boris is very dangerous,” said Boris.
“Okay,” said Eugene, offering him the Cheerio box so he could help himself.
Boris looked at the box.
He took one more Cheerio.
He picked up his briefcase.
He adjusted his pompom hat.
He walked back down the garden path toward the forest with the measured dignity of a professional who had things to do.
At the treeline he stopped.
He turned around.
Bear House sat warm and solid and immovable in the morning light.
The smell of pancakes drifted through the forest.
It smelled exactly like his grandmother’s blini.
Boris stood very still for a moment.
In his briefcase was a plan.
It was very detailed.
It was written in very small handwriting.
He would definitely be using it tomorrow.
He looked down at the Cheerio box Eugene had pressed into his paws before he left.
“For ze journey,” Eugene had said solemnly.
Boris ate one more Cheerio.
Da, thought Boris. Tomorrow.
He disappeared into the trees.
Inside Bear House, Eugene closed the front door and turned around.
Everyone was looking at him.
“He took the Cheerios,” said Eugene, with complete satisfaction.
“You were not supposed to answer the door,” said Ava.
He was exactly my size,” said Eugene simply, as though this explained everything.
It did explain everything.
“Danger Bear,” said Medved, without looking up from his laptop. “Update the flowchart.”
“To what classification?” said Danger Bear, pen ready.
Medved considered this briefly.
“CHEERIO SITUATION,” said Medved. “New category.”
Danger Bear wrote it down with great seriousness.
He began laminating it immediately. 😄🐼🐺