Snuggle Bear goes sour.
Belligerent and profane, he starts getting in fights outside popular clubs at two a.m.
Unflattering photographs appear;
So do lawsuits and a nasty, protracted divorce.
Snuggle Bear's mother goes on record vouching for his sweetness
And his inability to do wrong of any kind.
Ratcheting up the madness,
"Snug-dawg" joins a street gang.
Heavily tattooed and strung out,
Snuggle Bear waves a firearm around in broad daylight, cursing in Spanish.
Too bad for Tommy Tooth--
Right place, wrong time,
He dies of acute-onset lead poisoning.
At Snuggle Bear's sensational trial,
Snug's attorney complains to the court,
Revealing that the prison laundry does not use fabric softener.
"This amounts to nothing less than torture for my client!" he booms, in theatrical outrage.
Snuggle Bear titters in his ridiculous high voice, which makes his homeys sitting in the gallery squirm and look away.
Snuggle Bear is convicted and given 99 years.
In jail, he finds The Lord.
He does all that he can to bring the peace of forgiveness to his fellows,
But his violently insane cellmate is unreceptive, and knocks the stuffing out of Snuggle Bear.
After fifty years fly by,
Snuggle Bear is released for good behavior.
Old, tattered, and missing an eye,
Snuggle Bear is no longer telegenic.
He shambles into a coin laundry to get out of the snow,
And sits down in a broken molded plastic chair.
The woman who empties the lint filters and picks up the discarded detergent jugs stops and scrutinizes him.
"Hey! I know you!" she cries. "You were the Pillsbury Doughboy!"
She grins and pokes his middle.
Despite his struggle, ruin, and years of desperate searching,
The gesture touches a part of Snuggle Bear that is still as innocent and pure as Ivory Flakes.
His high-pitched laugh returns, like a wedding ring rescued from a drain,
Like bad poetry,
A thing can be obnoxious and kitschy all at the same time--
Leaving hearts noticeably softer
And filling the air
With the fresh, clean scent