The Legend Of 'Rotund Pete'

*** continued from previous post ***

We took a seat near the entrance from the dining room on a large, brown leather couch. I wondered how many were going to show up for the talk. It seemed like everyone except your mom and I had made a beeline for their rooms as soon as Leeza made the announcement.

The speaker hadn't arrived, or if he had he wasn't showing his face as yet, so Mom and I had the room to ourselves. I had a million ideas as to how we could occupy our time, but your Mother thought this would be a good time, and I'm not making this up, to go over some 'ground rules' for the evening.

"First off," she said, "not one word about the paranormal, auras, or Kirlian photography. Okay?"

I studied her face. What sort of sacrilege was this? I was to edit myself?

"What if he brings up the subject first?"

"I don't think that's going to happen."

“You don't know that for sure," I said with a satisfied little grin.

Mom sighed. Man she does that a lot.

"I'm pretty sure."

"But what," I said, "if he's going along and talking about his adventures with the bears and then he narrows his eyes and whispers about the greatest bear he ever knew, Rotund Pete. He then would share the tragic tale of Rotund Pete and his untimely death one fine spring day from eating the wrong berries and how now his lost grizzly soul forever walks these woods, scaring the bejebus out of tourists? Am I allowed to pursue this angle should he broach the subject?"

"Rotund Pete? A bear ghost named Rotund Pete?"

"He was picked on in his youth by other cubs."

"And they named him 'Rotund Pete'?"

"Oh now, you know how cruel cubs can be. No, they called him fatty-fatty-fat-fat Pete. When he was older, he watched an episode of Oprah on personal empowerment and right then and there decided that no one would ever call him fatty-fatty-fat-fat Pete ever again. From then on he would be known as Rotund Pete, or by nothing. It was all very emotional and transformative."

"Why didn't he just call himself 'Pete'?"

"Self-esteem issues. Old wounds run deep," I explained. "Plus, he missed that episode of Oprah."

Mom sat there looking at me for a long, long time. I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking that turning in early was sounding better and better by the moment.

"Okay. If he talks about bear ghosts you have my permission to quiz his little head off. But ONLY if he brings up the subject first."

That sounded fair. I could probably steer the conversation in that direction without suffering your Mother's wraith. I now had a goal. You know me, I like a challenge!

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