The Teddy Bear Pirate

Buster was a teddy bear. And he got no respect.

“Why, oh, why” he moaned, “did I have to be born to soft and cuddly?”

For most of us, soft and cuddly is a good thing, especially in a teddy bear, but Buster’s soft cuddliness interfered with his lifelong dream: to become a pirate.

His boy, Sam, lived in a little town by the sea. The boy took him everywhere, especially down to the docks where the tall ships sailed, and the screeching gulls, lapping waves and flapping sails lit a fire in Buster’s furry breast that no amount of hugging could put out.

He wanted to be a pirate, plain and simple.

Love he had in plenty, but where was the respect, the glamour, the adventure?! Buster not only wanted to be loved, but all of these things as well – and, deep inside, he also wanted to be admired.

One day, as if in answer to his prayers, a dark ship with dark, dark sails slid into the harbor like an oil-spill. A white skull and crossbones was stitched onto the black mainsail – it was a pirate ship!

The people on the docks were terrified, and ran for their lives. Even Sam was so frightened that when a fleeing man bumped into Sam, he dropped his bear in the chaos, and ran all the way home, leaving Buster behind.

Which was just fine with Buster.

Who promptly walked up to the first pirate he saw and said, “My name is Buster Bear. I want to be a pirate!”

The pirates laughed until their bellies hurt and tears ran down their dirty faces – who ever heard of a teddy bear pirate?

They dressed him up in proper pirate clothes including a fearsome eye-patch and hat – but in the end the joke was on them, because Buster was no ordinary bear. He really did have a pirate’s heart and before long the ship was his.

Far and wide he was known as Buster the Black: Captain, Scourge of the Seven Seas, Dread Pirate King!

He was still soft and cuddly, but boy could that bear swashbuckle! Whether swinging from the mizzen-mast, wielding his trusty blade or sweeping beautiful young women off their feet in a dozen ports, Buster was feared and admired, the two things he’d always wanted most.

It seemed like he had it all: glory, wealth, fame – but as the years passed Buster felt a growing hollowness in his heart. Something important was missing. But what was it? Sword, check; big-black hat, check; unneeded yet fashionable eye-patch, check; buried treasure, check, check, check. What on earth could it be?

Suddenly, without quite knowing why, Buster remembered his boy, Sam, and their long-lost days together. “Avast ye scurvy sea dogs – full sail for Smithtown afore I have ye flogged from here to Port Royal!”

They sailed into Smithtown harbor just as the Sun was setting. As always their menacing black sails sent the townsfolk scurrying for cover, and by the time Buster set foot on that familiar shore, the streets were deserted, every curtain drawn and every door locked.

Buster walked through the empty streets to the little cottage he had never forgotten. It looked just the same.

Peering through a hole in the curtain Buster saw a simple little room. The same old wooden table ringed with the same rickety old chairs. The same blackened tea-kettle still hanging in the same warm fireplace.

And then Buster saw Sam. The boy was all grown up now, but Buster knew his smile, his laugh, his unruly hair. It was Sam, his boy. Sam the man leaned over to pick up a giggling bundle and swung it through the air, and the giggles turned to delighted squeals.

All at once Buster knew what he had to do.

Off came the hat! Off came the eyepatch! Away went sword, dagger and pistol until Buster was bare, a bare bear again for the first time in many years.

Then he lay down, and waited.

In the morning Sam found a bear on his doorstep. His eyes grew wide. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered, “I used to have a bear just like this…his name was…Buster.”

“Yes,” Buster whispered softly as the wind, “his name was Buster.”

“Oh how I loved that bear.”
“Yes…loved…that’s what it was,” remembered Buster.

Sam carried Buster into the house, tucked under his arm just like always and Buster felt warm, truly warm. Sam looked down at Buster for a long time, and then carefully slipped him into his sleeping daughter’s arms.

“Every child should have a bear,” the man said, smiling.

“Yes, that’s true,” thought Buster as he fell asleep.

The amazing disappearance of Buster the Black was a news sensation. Where did he go, and why? Had he fallen in a duel? Been lost at sea and drowned? Or had he retired, slipping away to France, Russia or far-away China, even, to live out his days spending his fortune in the perfumed court of an Emperor? All they knew for sure was that Buster the Black had vanished as mysteriously as he had come.

If Sam suspected the truth, he never told. And his daughter, well, she fell asleep every night with her bear cradled in her arms. Her bear, whose name was Buster, told her stories, every night – and then she dreamed of the sea.