fiery bears

(My alarm has gone off and I decide to lay in bed a while longer rather than getting up. This seems to worry my still-sleeping boyfriend.)

H: (patting my arm) The bear says is time drive car.
M: (ignoring)
H: Baby? Baby, the house is on fire.
M: No, it’s not.
H: (points over my shoulder at the corner of the bedroom) Fred Meyer’s is on fire.
M: No, it’s not.

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