Fortunately, Doctor Ted happened to be in the park at the same time, and hearing the very loud OUCH and ensuing roars of pain that came from the archery range, raced over to see who was making all the noise. Well, there he was, Fuzzy with an extra appendage - a nice target arrow sticking out of his fundament. After an 'arrowectomy' ably performed by Dr Ted, Fuzzy was fine but his pride was a bit worse for wear.

With a somewhat embarrassed air, Fuzzy limped back to his tent to change into a new pair of pants. After a few mugs of honey beer he spent the rest of the day enjoying the park, reading all the fun and informative signs and visiting his wilder cousin at a lovely lake and water fall. All in all it was fine day.

Toward late afternoon, Fuzzy went to one of his favourite clubs, and met his friend Shakey. After all of the adventures of the day, Fuzzy recommended that Shakey should visit the park too, but to pay attention to the signs round the archery range. Both were having a drink while listening to the Cub Reporters Band. Fuzzy was slowly sipping a fine domestic red, while Shakey was getting stuck into the honey beer. The music was good; the band was getting into a groove and cooking along nicely. Shakey sighed deeply.

"What's up, my furry friend?" said Fuzzy, "Why the deep sigh?"

Shakey (aptly named because - well, he drank a lot and shook a lot) "You see that red headed singer there in the band?" Fuzzy nodded. "Well, That's Dora, and she is the love of my life, and she won't even look at me. What can I do?"

Fuzzy looked over at the band and sure enough, a fine looking red headed bear was doing some fine harmonies with her singing friend. "Yeah, she's a looker all right" said Fuzzy, with Shakey sighing even more deeply, after slurping down half a glass of honey beer.

"Tell you what, Shakey, why don't you just go up to her and ask her out" suggested Fuzzy. Shakey quivered even faster. "Oooooh, nooo. I couldn't do that. I wouldn't know what to say." Then he looked slyly at Fuzzy. "Ah, Fuzzy my old mate, you wouldn't, ah, go up and invite those two singers to our table, would you? I mean, you've got looks, good clothes and all."

Fuzzy rolled his eyes and thought to himself, "Jeez, why do I get stuck with these sorts of situations? What should I do?" He looked over at the band and the singers again, and made up his mind.

What will Fuzzy do? Wait for the next episode!

And tell us what you would like Fuzzy to do. We will select the best of the entries. Just send a telegram to Ozman or Apooka with your ideas.