Quotation Mark Mondays: Requiem for the large Kentucky Orange Bears

“Dad, did you know there are no more orange bears? There are no more Kentucky Orange Bears. They all died. They got hurt and they all died. You can't see them any more. There are no more Kentucky Orange Bears and they are all gone. You can’t see them anymore because they all died.”

“Oh no!”

“They all died, dad. The Kentucky Orange Bears. The big ones. The big Kentucky Orange Bears are all gone but you can still see the medium Kentucky Orange Bears and the Little Kentucky Orange Bears. You can still see them all over the place, but mostly at zoos. Mostly at the Orange Zoo. There are medium sized Kentucky Orange Bears and there are small sized Kentucky Orange Bears at zoos now. They didn’t die. The large Kentucky Orange Bears all died. But you can see the other Kentucky Bears at the Orange Zoo. The Orange Zoo is closer than the Brookfield Zoo. It IS closer than the Brookfield Zoo. Closer to us. You can see the Kentucky Orange Bears there at the Orange Zoo – but only the medium sized Kentucky Orange Bears and the little Kentucky Orange Bears. The big Kentucky Orange Bears all have died.”

“Really?”

“Yep. They have Kentucky Orange Bears at the Orange Zoo. You go a little bit down 59. Fifty nine. You go a little bit down 59, you turn this way. It’s even closer than Brookfield. They have Kentucky Orange Bears there. There are orange giraffes. There are orange elephants. There are orange flamingos. There are no orange skinned kimodo dragons. There are orange skinned tigers and lions and beavers. And that’s all there is there. And there are orange parks there, too. There are five little orange parks. And you can feed Anne there. And they also have the Kentucky Orange Bears. But only the medium sized ones and the little ones. Because all big Kentucky Orange Bears died. And next will be purple, okay? Actually, those are bears, too. There are no moose.”

Looking inside the Fridge

It's pretty safe to say that Matt has a very interesting, but very odd, profession. For instance, last Monday, Matt interviewed a man who says he was in World War I. If it checks out, this guy would be one of less than 10 WWI veterans left in the entire world (he's 103) and possibly one of two or three who saw actually combat.
Pretty big story, right?
That's nothing. Last Tuesday, Matt walked in to work and checked the fax machine.

"A Geneva dentist is restoring William 'Fridge' Perry's smile today. After 20 years of not seeing a dentist...The Fridge will be able once again to eat anything he wants and bite into apples with his front teeth. As he said 'I have waited for 20 years to fix my smile. ...Christmas will be extra special this year.'"

For those of you who don't know, The Fridge is sort of a Chicago icon. The big, friendly offensive lineman was on the 1985 Super Bowl champions, and inexplicably scored a touchdown in the Super Bowl rather than the immortal Walter Payton. Ditka never forgave himself.

So when Matt saw the press release, he wanted to turn away. He wanted to say, "With all the children starving in the world, do we really need to write about this guy? Are we really that obsessed with fat celebrities in this country?"

And yet, Matt - who's normally the police and courts reporter - was drawn to the story. These weirdo tales used to be Matt's specialty. Every day, his editor would pop up at his cubicle and ask something like:
- "Matt, I just heard there's a chicken running around on the West side. Can you chase that?" (That story included bonus facts - Chicken Nuggets.)
- "Matt, the new buffalo nickel is coming out this week, and the buffaloes at FermiLab are giving birth? Can you do a story about that?" (Although those might seem connected, trust Matt - they're not.)
- "Matt, a guy just shoved shrimp down his pants and ran out of a store. Do you have time?" (That one actually won an award!)

Matt eventually moved on to the blood and guts and murders of the police beat.
And yet... Matt somehow couldn't turn away from this Fridge story. The only explanation is that Matt was caught in the Fridge's gravitational pull. He is a big man, after all.

So Matt went over to the Geneva dentist's office where the Fridge was getting his new teeth. Now, it's important to note that the Fridge had NO TEETH before this. They had fallen out, been knocked out, or pulled out by the Fridge himself. And yet, having no teeth did not seem to slim down the Fridge. He is a big man, after all.

So, the dentist was busy screwing new teeth into a plate that had been surgically implanted in his jaw. It was disgusting. On top of that, two photographers and a reporter (Matt) are standing in this 8-by-10 office staring into Fridge's mouth. (No joke - a TV camera showed up later.)

Then, while the Fridge was getting his teeth screwed in, other people are bringing in footballs for him to sign. Between inserting incisors, he's writing "To Johnny and Tommy, The Fridge, TD, Super Bowl XX." The woman who designed his teeth brought her 8-year-old daughter to meet the Fridge. The little girl had no clue who he was, but at Mom's prompting she wished him a happy birthday. That's right, Mom wikipedia-ed The Fridge's birthday before making her 8-year-old daughter take a picture next to a giant's open mouth. The girl, undoubtedly scarred for life, probably assumed once all the Fridge's teeth were in, he would eat her. The Fridge is a big man, after all. Especially to 8-year-olds.

By the end, Matt felt a little bad for the Fridge, who was really a nice guy. Sure, he makes his money off his reputation (and he was getting free teeth), but that means he has to do whatever dance anyone wants him to. "Fridge, sign this." "Fridge, take a picture." "Fridge, gives us a thumbs up." He's a 400-pound puppet.

You can read what Matt ended up writing here, although Matt felt some of his best stuff got cut from the final version. But, hey, Matt's no dumb cookie. He can write, you will see. The others, they all learn from me.