The heavy rain fell down hour after hour. It poured down the mountainsides and filled up the rivers. The rivers overflowed and swept through the towns. In one of these the Love The Globe building, low, fat, and poorly built, collapsed and was carried away. In the old growth forest above the town a tree-hugger sat in the branches of a five-hundred year-old redwood when a bolt of lightning tore out of the clouds and split the tree in two. The tree-hugger fell and landed on a grizzly bear. The bear was wet and startled, but hadn’t lost his appetite.
The next morning, up in his high-rise apartment, an animal-rights-environmentalist poet wrote about “the loving embrace of Mother Earth’s grace” and the “harmonic splendor of the wild”. In the afternoon he was informed of his only daughter’s grisly death. That evening he started to write about greedy power companies, but the lights went out and he cursed them instead, saving much paper and ink. His neighbors were quite used to hearing what they thought was his pet bulldog.
Bright and early the next morning his only son phoned him from the top of an ice-berg which he was hugging and sharing with a polar bear. That bear was hungry, too. The first and last word his father heard was a very harmonious screaming growl.
The next day, on his way to the cemetary for his daughter’s funeral, he walked on through the city zoo, which was across the street from his apartment house, to see the bears. As he passed the monkey cage abutting the bear cage a monkey threw out a banana peel. He stepped on it, slipped, caught himself, but overdid it and flung forward, his head going between the bear cage bars. Fortunately, these particular bears weren’t carnivorous, but unfortunately, they had been taught to play basketball.
When the medics came to pick up the body the monkeys were laughing and the bears were dunking. The medics couldn’t get the ball because the bears hadn’t been taught time-out.
That night the zoo was extraordinarily quiet; the bears and their rabid fans slept in fully satisfied peace. Out in the cemetary all was peaceful, too, while off the coast of Alaska the polar bear peacefully snoozed away on his gently gliding, gently shrinking canoe. Up in the dead poet’s apartment his wife was typing out a letter-to-the-editor on her brand new computer, complaining about man’s exploitation of the raw materials of nature. She called it “Raping Innocent Earth”.
At midnight the walls of the apartment violently shook and shook. The earthquake registered 9.5. The apartment building slowly crumbled and fell over, tossing the poet’s wife into the zoo. The bears escaped, not stopping to play ball. The monkeys wildly booed and chattered, while the parrots shouted, “Look at the new bear, look at the new bear; ain’t he cute, ain’t he cute! Save the earth, save the earth; ain’t he cute, ain’t he cute!”
The storm clouds returned and the heavy rain fell down hour after hour.