The wee morning hours tend to be some of the most active for newly-emboldened producers of indefensibly aggressive twitterings—all sound and fury signifying nothing of merit, tiny chests puffing in preparation for the latest bout of territorial shouting, execrable leavings as far as the eye can see—and so a bear has taken it upon himself to moderate their voluble incontinence as best he can (with a much-appreciated assist from ol’ Blundy).
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