Yogi Bear's Great Reawakening
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NSFW WARNING
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A purposely absurdly written Yogi Bear fanfiction. In the story, Yogi is 34 years old, and BooBoo is 25.
"Who is always on the spot?
Who is? YOGI BEAR!
Who keeps cool when things are hot?
Who does? YOGI BEAR!
Who believes a wild daydream,
and falls for some fantastic scheme,
but always winds up on the beam?
YOGI BEAR!"
Yogi Bear awoke from a most exasperating dream. In fact, it had been much more of a nightmare. he had dreamt that he was murdered by a ginormous spider, who sunk his fangs into him milliseconds after he sighted the decaying corpse of his best friend and dependent, Boo Boo Bear, who had also been slain by this foul, disgusting beast.
In any event, a new day was a new day, and the past had passed, or so they say. *cough... Yogi woke up in sweats and shivers. It certainly felt like a very long time since he had tucked himself in, bedsheets and all... he arose from his Berensteined bed (that was a... personal, inside joke), and was prepared to face this new day and whatever it had in store for him. "In an absolute, worst case scenario," he began thinking to himself, "it can't be any worse than the fangs of that spider. Yuck, yuck, yuck! Hey hey hey hey hey!!!" Hey hey hey was right... because before he could even stretch, another hairy, beary face had been thrust right into his very, beary hair! Why... it was Boo Boo himself, alive, and... well, perhaps NOT well, depending on one's point of view...
"Yogi! It's been eight, long, hopelessly enduring years. I have stayed by your bedside feeding you porridge through a straw while the fatty tissue melted in your extralong, uh, hibernation!"
Some sort of disgusting puddle of decompsoing bear hair and fatty bear tissue, and, uh, fly-engulfed bear defecation... was dried up, staining the side of his bed. It didn't even smell anymore. Well, uh, anyway... "I've missed you, Yogi! Hugs and kisses! Hugs and kisses!"
Boo boo hugged Yogi so tight that he felt his trademark necktie start to strangle him. Crying out for help was certainly out of the question. He could... bearly move his arms, but the spasming muscles and bones had been unfortunately misinterpreted by Boo Boo as... signs that he liked it.
"OK, OK, haha, take it easy, Yogi! It's kiss time!"
Yogi was scared enough about how he'd feel tomorrow morning from all that sudden pressure, let alone the scare... and in comparison to all THAT, a kiss from his once favorite guy was alright by him. Sure, he was a heterosexual bear, but he was extremely comfortable in his sexuality, having watched several documentaries before about how bears abandon their sexual orientation in the wild. Yogi puckered up, expecting some... less threatening, and literally breathtaking passion.
Instead... what he felt was a... hard, heavy, and... infectiously catchy sound infiltrating his eardrums! It was so sudden and unexpected, that he temporarily forgot about Boo Boo's current state, and the remark about being asleep for a virtual decade! "I Was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me. And I can't get enough of you baby, can you get enough of me?"
Oh... KISS, indeed. As in the BAND, KISS! Yogi adored KISS, but he felt so confused that he couldn't appreciate the compelling chords and magnificent melodies.
"Hey, Boo Boo. I... uh... need to put on my catman make-up."
Boo Boo nodded, Yogi half-smiled... and then he ran as fast as he could, the hell out of that decrepid, rock-disco invaded cave that he once... so happily called home. Eight years ago. ... Eight years. It all came back to him. Yes, eight years ago, he attempted to hibernate, for the Summer and for the Summer only! So why was he asleep for eight years? Was he truly that tired? Had he inherited some sort of genetic disorder from his parents, who now lived in Miami? He left his cell phone in the cave, and there was no heading back now. Nor could he leave the park to find a payphone, because Ranger Smith would probably shoot him with tranquilizer darts.
WAIT! That was it! Shoot... shooting. That was important. But why? His memory was so hazy... no headache, though. Just then, Boo Boo had come into view, running fanatically, almost cartoon style... bearing... a handgun, and an extra pack or two of shells. Ooohhh, boy.
"YOGI! I WAITED EIGHT LONG, GRUELING, UNBEARABLE YEARS BY YOUR BEDSIDE! YOU COME BACK AND LOVE ME AND LISTEN TO OUR FAVORITE SONG, OR ELSE! YOU WILL DIE IN A SNOWED IN CAVE LIKE THE TRAITOR THAT YOU ARE!
Snowden. Edward Snowden. The government had been spying on Boo Boo masturbating over Yogi's hiatusing body. In any event, Yogi picked up steam, as fast as he could, past the trees, the log cabins, the the trails, the honeysuckle and berry bushes... all the way to the... picnic grounds. Oh, yes. Ohhh yes.
"I've gotta... gotta get me a... picnic basket... NOW!" Yogi hastily climbed up a tree. An old man scratched his beard. A woman in her mid-20s shrieked orgasmically. A balding little elementary school boy flew a kite into a kite-eating tree. It didn't matter what anybody was doing at that point in time, because a few seconds later, all they could do was stare. And gasp. And do... NOTHING TO prepare for... the horrifying occurrence that immediately awaited them. Yogi turned around. He stuck his buttocks in the air.
"Ohhh!!! Right! Our OTHER song!", Boo Boo exclaimed, bearly audible enough for Yogi to hear! Boo Boo put down the Boombox (the KISS song had just finished playing), snapped the eject button, grasped an unmarked CD out of a pocket that he had sewn in him by an ex-convict tattoo artist that Ranger Smith regularly employed for oral sex, and... well, he put it in and hit play.
"I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE! YOU OTHER BROTHERS CAN'T DENY!"
Oh God. It was... even more frightening than a hyperrealistic Yogi would be, if millions of dollars were invested by the greatest computer animators in Hollywood. No use thinking like that, though. This was not such fiction. This... this was real life.
"THAT A GIRL WALKS IN... AHHHHHH!!!!"
Yogi stopped singing, screamed, and fell down, down from the tree. His life flashed before his very eyes. His first C- on a History test, in which he wrote that George W. Bush bombed Jamaica because he needed money for a security deposit on a condo near his work. The first time his dad put his hand on his shoulder and another hand... somewhere else, before he fled the state and moved to Miami. That time Cindy put her finger against her lips, shushed her Yiddish-influenced, baseball player monikered bearhuman boyfriend, and... and pulled out a syringe.
YES! SHOOT! SHOOTING! NEEDLES! SYRINGES! HEROIN! It was the heroin that had put Yogi away for so long, and had given him such terrible, terrible nightmares. It had been heroin that he was always searching for in the Jellystone Park picnic baskets! It had been heroin he had demanded from Ranger Smith after being biochemically enhanced to behave more and more like a human, to evolve, to wear hats and ties. It was heroin that was his life's goal, what turned him into a common robber and larsonist, what had made him set up elaborate rope and pulley tricks in ruining the vacations of many a vacationing family. His life was the drug. The drug was him. Yogi bear. Heroin Bear. Honestly, truly, it all was one and the same. And if he had only looked at things more clearly, he would've realized...
... *THUD*.
He hit the grassy knoll below him. Thud. He could hear gunshots. Not just from Booboo, if it was even BooBoo... there were others. How many others, he could not say. In his eyes, there were hundreds, thousands, millions, maybe even billions. There were starving children, cheating husbands, big corporate CEOs getting blowjobs underneath their desks... and there was Cindy. "I love you even in death, Yogi. And I'll remember to bring the needles, Sid."
Then a spider emerged and fatally bit into Yogi, Boo Boo, and all of the nearby human patrons.
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Credited to DaveTheUseless
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