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  TO THE THREE E’S WITH LOVE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Welcome to the Grumpy Woods!

  Just kidding. No one is welcome here. Turn around and go back. The Grumpy Woods doesn’t need any new residents—and it especially doesn’t need any more bears. Especially not bears who like to dance and sing and make doughnuts and have parties. If you are a bear, then stay out.

  Of course, right now you might be thinking, Bears are cute and Parties are fun. Cut it out. The animals of the Grumpy Woods do not agree, because everyone here who’s not a bear is, well, grumpy.

  So don’t bother looking for a welcome sign, because it’s been taken down. All welcome mats and mailboxes have also been removed. That’s right. They were all taken down by an official decree of the mayor.

  Mayor Quill had an official meeting at City Hall. (City Hall is really just an upturned log, not actually a hall of any sort, but don’t tell Mayor Quill that. He takes his position quite seriously.)

  The Super Happy Party Bears were not invited to the meeting.

  At that meeting, everyone—from Bernice Bunny to Humphrey Hedgehog—decided that no one was welcome in the Grumpy Woods and that anything welcoming should be removed.

  They voted. And that was that. It was very official.

  And so, every day, everyone in the Grumpy Woods wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, puts on their cranky pants (actually, more like a whole outfit), and orders up some breakfast—two scoops of crabby in a bowlful of Leave me alone! That is, everyone except the Super Happy Party Bears.

  Over at the Party Patch, the Headquarters of Fun—where the Super Happy Party Bears have made their home—life is very different.

  LIFE IS SUPER. Life is happy. And life is full of parties!

  Remember the mailboxes and the welcome mats? They were mentioned about seven paragraphs ago. Well, you will find that they have been relocated to the Party Patch. The mailboxes dangle like ornaments from the shrubbery. The welcome mats are stacked like a house of cards to create a cozy canopy in front of the main entrance. The main entrance is easy to find because carefully placed sticks, laid out in the shape of arrows, lead any would-be visitor up a flower-lined path, straight to the Super Happy Party Bears’ den.

  Oh, and that welcome sign? Well, that can be found at the Party Patch, too. On top of the sign sits a little stick-figure diorama that includes the likeness of a few Grumpy Woods neighbors. They are wearing party hats and dancing. The leader of the party appears to be Mayor Quill.

  See, while the others in the Grumpy Woods can’t stand the bears, the Super Happy Party Bears adore their neighbors, especially Mayor Quill.

  And so, on a beautiful morning such as this, the Super Happy Party Bears get up on the cheeriest side of the bed, put on their pants of positivity, and order up some breakfast—two triple-decker giggle-and-jelly sandwiches and a bowlful of The best day ever!

  Nothing annoys the critters of the Grumpy Woods more.

  Except when the bears have a party.

  And they are always having a

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mayor Quill was on some very important official business.

  Angrily clutching a stack of envelopes in his paw, he stomped up the path marked with twig arrows and lined with cheerful flowers. Signs along the way pointed to the Party Patch. Sounds of celebration were coming out of the shrubs up ahead—it sounded like the song “If You’re Happy and You Know It,” complete with a pots-and-pans rhythm section. It sounded like a party—a breakfast party.

  And then he was in front of it—the welcome sign.

  Mayor Quill squinted at the tiny Mayor Quill stick figure dancing atop the wooden sign, and his quills bristled.

  “That tiny party hat makes me look fat,” he mumbled, and bumped into the sign on purpose as he waddled by, hoping to topple it. But to his dismay, the mayor stick figure simply tipped into the other stick neighbors in a kind of group hug.

  “BAH!” griped Mayor Quill as he crumpled the letters in his paw.

  For a week now, Mayor Quill had been getting these letters. He kept finding them all over City Hall. With no mailbox for his mail, Mayor Quill was finding letters under his pillow, inside his morning bowl of leaves and berries, and even in his underwear drawer! And they all said the most annoying things:

  The cheery letters had the paw prints of the Super Happy Party Bears all over them, and Mayor Quill was fed up.

  He started to cram the letters under the door. The breakfast bash abruptly stopped, and the mayor heard the shuffle of a dozen pairs of furry feet gather on the other side.

  “ONE! TWO! THREE! WHO CAN IT BEEEEEEEEEEE?” sang the bears, before swinging the door open wide.

  “QUILLY!” they all cheered.

  Mayor Quill threw up his hands in surprise, and the envelopes flew into the air.

  “He’s delivering mail to us,” said the littlest bear as he gathered up the wrinkled envelopes.

  And before Mayor Quill could object, he was pulled into the Party Patch and a cup of juice put in his paw.

  “I’m actually here on very important official business regarding this mail,” said Mayor Quill.

  “This is the most special morning ever!” cheered the bears. “It’s official! This calls for another party!

  “IT’S SUPER HAPPY PARTY TIME! SUPER HAPPY PARTY TIME!” the bears chanted, and they did their Super Happy Party Dance.

  “We must provide refreshments for this party!” announced a small bear, breaking his dance pose. It was Mops, named for his mop-top hair that fell over his eyes.

  “This isn’t a party,” said Mayor Quill. “More like a meeting.”

  “A meeting is just a party without doughnuts,” said Bubs as he calmly blew party-perfect bubbles. Bubs was always the voice of party wisdom.

  “DOUGHNUTS!” they all cheered, and scrambled off in a flurry.

  Pans clattered and batter splattered everywhere as the bears busied themselves preparing the doughnuts. Meanwhile, the littlest bear delivered the mail.

  “‘You’re swell.’ This one must be for you.” He handed the letter to Shades, who winked over his star glasses. And to a bear who was doing jumping jacks he said, “‘Way 2 Go!’ is definitely meant for you, Jacks.”

  The littlest bear then hesitated. “‘Who’s the best mayor around?’ Silly, Quilly! That’s YOU!”

  “These letters were—” the mayor protested.

  “—meant to make us happy?” asked the bears sweetly. “THEY DID!”

  Just then, Mayor Quill felt a tug on one of his back quills. He turned around to see a bear wearing some sort of armor made out of twigs and pinecones.

  “What in the world are you wearing?” he asked.

  “It’s the newly patented Hug-a-Mayor suit. It allows us to hug a porcupine such as yourself repeatedly, and for longer periods, without getting poked.”

  The mayor backed away awkwardly from the outstretched padded arms. There was n
othing Mayor Quill hated more than hugs. Except for maybe stumbling backward and sitting right in a big bowl of doughnut batter.

  He didn’t want hugs, or doughnuts, or mail, or a party.

  The mayor just wanted a bath.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mayor Quill plucked a fresh sharp quill from his backside and flicked off a bit of batter before dipping the quill into his inkpot. He carefully added to the Mayoral Decree he had hung on the tallest tree at the center of the woods. It was basically a list of rules to follow—but the porcupine liked the sound of the word decree. It was very official.

  He underlined the words DOES and NOT—not once, not twice, but five times. He was not messing around.

  He stepped back to examine his work and shook his rump a little, trying to shake off the goopy mess. It was time for a long, hot bath.

  Mayor Quill hung his CLOSED FOR OFFICIAL BUSINESS sign on his door and then stepped inside the official City Hall—which was really just the log he lived in—and went to his private, members-only watering hole, of which he was the only member. He cued up the whirlpool for his bubble bath.

  Of course, the whirlpool was really just Arlo Rabbit, kicker extraordinaire, who could strike up a current in the calmest of waters with his hind legs and who didn’t mind the exercise. Arlo was good about covering his eyes to give Mayor Quill privacy.

  But when the mayor stepped into the tub he had made by carving a knot out of the log, the water level seemed incredibly low.

  “That’s odd,” he muttered. “You have your work cut out for you today, Arlo.”

  Just then there was a knock at the trunk.

  Mayor Quill wanted nothing more than to soak in the tub, rid his tush of doughnut batter, and get on with his day. He ignored the knock.

  Knock, knocky, knock-knock.

  Mayor Quill would know that pestering knock anywhere. He wanted to disappear deeper into the water—but the water barely covered his rump.

  The door opened a crack.

  “Mayor Quill, sir?” It was Humphrey Hedgehog.

  “What do you want?” the mayor barked. “I’m in the bath.”

  “I figured as much, sir.”

  Humphrey Hedgehog was the mayor’s assistant deputy. By now he had entered the private, members-only watering hole. Nothing bugged the mayor more than when Humphrey considered himself an equal.

  “I’m covering my eyes, sir. I won’t see a thing. I just wanted to let you know there seems to be a problem with the water. It is missing, sir.”

  “You don’t say?” responded Mayor Quill.

  “Yes, sir. Indeed. Someone must have stolen it. And I have a list of possible culprits that I would like you to review at your earliest convenience.” Humphrey flipped through at least ten pages on his clipboard.

  Out of the corner of his eye, the mayor caught a glimpse of the top of Humphrey’s list.

  The mayor looked down at his shallow bathwater. Some chunks of doughnut floated by, and rainbow sprinkles bobbed on the surface.

  Squirrelly Sam suddenly appeared, scrambling down from the branches above to hang his head upside down in the doorway, completely ignoring the sign out front.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Mayor. I have a mail delivery for you.”

  Mayor Quill stomped his foot. He shook from head to toe. Just before the mayor exploded, Humphrey rolled into a defensive ball. Being a hedgehog, he had his own spiny exterior. It came in handy at times like these.

  Quills exploded everywhere. One narrowly missed Arlo’s ear. Another speared the mail, tearing it out of Sam’s paw and pinning it to a tree several feet away.

  Humphrey peeked out from behind his clipboard.

  “Good shot, sir.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Mayor Quill never got his bath. Soon City Hall was crawling with complainers about the water situation. No, really. Folks actually climbed onto the rotten upturned log and demanded a town meeting.

  As Mayor Quill prepared to address his people, Humphrey made preparations of his own.

  “Excuse me, Humphrey,” said Sam as he skittered in circles around Humphrey’s short legs. Nothing made Squirrelly Sam squirrellier than when he had a big juicy piece of gossip to share. “You didn’t hear this from me, but …”

  Humphrey didn’t hear it at all. Nothing could distract the assistant deputy. He was busy practicing the speech he would give to the Super Happy Party Bears.

  “It has come to City Hall’s attention,” muttered Humphrey, “that you have stolen our water. Your shenanigans have gone on far too long, and it is upon order of the mayor himself that I must ask you to relocate.” Humphrey chuckled to himself. This was a moment he had dreamed of often. And this was a speech he had rehearsed every night in his dreams, too. Getting rid of the Super Happy Party Bears would surely make him a hero in the Grumpy Woods. And heroes can become mayors.

  By now Sam was on top of Humphrey’s head, struggling to make eye contact upside down.

  “… gnashing and gnawing with their ginormous teeth. Are you listening, Humphrey?”

  It was evident by Humphrey’s glazed-over eyes that he was not listening to Sam’s story but was instead daydreaming of his mayoral inauguration party.

  Sam sighed exasperatedly and began all over again.

  Humphrey fought to half listen, catching bits and pieces—

  “… newcomers … all night long … TIIIIIMBERRRRR!”—until Mayor Quill took the podium, signaling the beginning of the town meeting.

  But before the mayor even finished clearing his throat, a voice rang out from the crowd. “My beautiful Grumpy River. Someone stole it! Now I will never finish my book!” cried out Bernice Bunny.

  Bernice was known to sit for hours on the banks of the Grumpy River with her twitchy nose stuck in a book.

  Everyone in Grumpy Woods knew to tiptoe by quietly. Bernice hated to be interrupted. Rumor had it that she’d been reading the same book for five years because the Super Happy Party Bears disturbed her so many times she had to keep reading the same paragraph over and over and over.

  Frantic murmurs bubbled up from the gathered bunch.

  “Stolen?”

  “Gone?”

  “The whole river?”

  “Makes sense,” said Mayor Quill. “I once heard the Super Happy Party Bears planning a pool party. But they don’t have a pool!”

  The group gasped.

  Humphrey worked out his own prediction. “I know they were making doughnuts this morning. Large quantities of sugary doughnuts can make one awfully thirsty. All they would need is a giant straw and slurp! The water would be all sucked up.”

  “Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but—” started Squirrelly Sam. And he was right. No one heard him. They were all too busy talking over one another, accusing the Super Happy Party Bears of ruining the river.

  “Please! Everybody! One at a time,” yelled Mayor Quill as he banged his gavel on the podium.

  “All night I tossed and turned to the terrible sound of crunching and chewing!”

  “There are mountains of sawdust where trees once stood!”

  “Dirty, dirty, dirty. Too much to clean,” sang Dawn Fawn, who sang whenever she felt nervous. She really liked to keep things clean. Sometimes she even used Bernice’s tail as a dust mop.

  “Obviously, they are making lounge chairs for their pool party,” stated Bernice matter-of-factly as she slowly stepped away from Dawn.

  “Or they are making Popsicles again,” said Humphrey, “and need more sticks.”

  Sam excitedly continued his previous tale. By now he was so out of breath he was only speaking in fragments. “It’s the monsters. Draining water. Obliterating trees. All night long. TIIIIIMMMBBBEEEEERRRRR!”

  “There are no monsters in the Grumpy Woods,” interrupted Mayor Quill, who was finally listening to Sam.

  “I wouldn’t be too ssssure of that,” came a hiss from the ground. It was Sherry Snake, self-proclaimed sheriff of the Grumpy Woods. Sherry made it her duty to secure and protec
t the borders of the Grumpy Woods. Mostly, she just enjoyed telling other animals to scram.

  “M-m-m-monsters?” Bernice’s fuzzy ears trembled.

  “Really, Sherry, this isn’t helping,” harrumphed Humphrey.

  “I told them to sssstay out,” continued Sherry, “but they ssssaid ssssnakesssskin was so lasssst sssspring and laughed at me.”

  “This doesn’t make sense,” said Mayor Quill.

  “Exactly. Ssssnakesssskin is alwayssss in sssseasssson.”

  “I’ll tell you what doesn’t make sense,” echoed a voice from the back. It was Opal Owl, pulling a curler out of her feathers and plucking bits of her nest from her waist. “It is morning and I am awake! I thought we all gave a hoot about peace and quiet.”

  “Our deepest apologies, Opal,” said Mayor Quill. But before he could promise to keep the noise level down, the ground rumbled. The leaves rustled.

  “It can’t be,” mumbled the mayor.

  The Grumpy Woods neighbors’ greatest fear was rolling by City Hall.

  The welcome wagon.

  Covered with welcome banners, signs, and pennants, it was packed with everything a good neighbor needs to greet newcomers: casseroles, cups of sugar to borrow, fruit baskets, and muffins. There was even a red carpet tied to the front, ready to be rolled out.

  The wagon was being pulled along by the Super Happy Party Bears.