LEO'S STORY
By Oren the Otter

It was a dark and stormy night. Yes, I know what you're thinking, but it really was dark and stormy. The rain was pouring down the window in sheets. Of course, rain doesn't bother me, not since I was permanently bonded to my otter suit, but the others were hesitant to walk home in this kind of weather, so I stayed at the coffee shop and kept them company.

Marco was looking out the window and shivering. Of course, he always shivers. Marco is a chihuahua. "I just know I'm gonna die of pneumonia if I go out there tonight." he said.

"Marco," said Fred, the wizened old teddy bear. "You're a plushie. You don't have lungs."

"Well, I just know I'll get mildewed or something."

"For heaven sakes." said Sadie. "It's just like going for a spin in the washing machine."

"And how would you know this?" asked Stuffy, the kangaroo.

"Oh, now I got you arguing." said Marco. "I don't like confrontations!"

"We're not arguing." Stuffy insisted. "I was just curious as to on what occasion Sadie, being human, might have found herself in a washing machine."

"Well," said Sadie, indicating her artificial arm. "There have been times when I've had to wash my arm and then wear it again before the fluff had dried out."

"I never even get into the washing machine." said Marco. "I'm sure I would pop my stitches under that kind of stress!"

Leo laughed.

"What's so funny?" the chihuahua demanded.

Leo idly chewed on one of his plastic claws as he responded "You have no idea what stress is."

"And you do?"

"You bet your little plastic eyeballs I do."

"Marco," I explained. "Leo was the first plushie ever to commit a major crime."

"He did what?" Marco responded in surprise. "And this was when?"

"Long before you started coming to the coffee house." said Leo. "Me either, of course."

"Oh, now this I want to hear."

Leo paused in mid chew and looked at Marco. "You never heard about this?" he asked. "It was all over the news."

"I don't watch the news." Marco replied. "It's too stressful."

"I should have guessed. Okay, you really want to hear my story?"

"Sure."

They say you can't remember the day you're stuffed. That is clearly wrong in my case. So strong were my creator's emotions as he stuffed me in his creative fervor that I achieved consciousness while I was still nothing but a head attached to a limp husk of a body. The little fibers of pufflin aligned and grew out, penetrating my plastic eyes, becoming organs of sight. I could feel him cramming the stuffing into my stomach, each handful adding a little more of his radiated emotion to my personality.

I was a work of art. Realistic in every detail. I was never meant to be hugged and snuggled and taken to bed by a child. No. I was a lion, indistinguishable from the real thing. Look at my fur. You can't even see the seams. This guy was GOOD, I'm telling you. I'm almost glad I was created by him, he did such a good job. There was just one problem. He created the tin man without a heart.

It was many, many days before my stuffing generated the ability to move on its own. Had my creator known of the properties of pufflin, he might never have made me, but he did. I sat in a corner of his workshop for several days, nearly a week, sitting quietly and watching. I studied the man. It was not a study born of curiosity, but of the predatory instincts which his commitment to accuracy had instilled in me. In real life, it is lionesses who hunt, bringing the kill home to their husbands. I, however, had only the knowledge of my maker to guide me. He saw all lions as bloodthirsty killers.

And so I watched him, analyzing his weaknesses and vulnerabilities. When the time was right, I would kill him.

At the end of a weeks' time, I was loaded into the back of a van with several smaller stuffed animals. None of them was alive as I was. No, they had not rated the expensive alien fiber as I had. They were merely playthings. I was a masterpiece.

By the time the van had reached its destination and my creator had gotten around to retrieving me, he had donned a nametag sticker. It read Kieth. I know I shouldn't have been able to read, but I recognized his name. It was probably because Kieth's thoughts had formed me.

Now among real animals, so I am told, there is an unwritten rule: You don't eat someone once you know their name. It would be like frying up the family dog for a casserole. At the time, however, I had no such compunctions. Kieth had made me a killer. And with neither malice nor spite, I sought to kill him.

He took me, as well as the others, into a large building. There were people everywhere. My predator's brain went nearly crazy from looking at all the wonderful, delicious prey. My eyes shifted around the room. That's when I first realized that I could move. My eyes could track a likely victim, and soon, the rest of me would follow.

I was stood in a prominent location in my maker's booth. I was given a very high price tag. A lot of people came by and looked at me, but no one was willing to purchase me. Then, as one potential customer walked away, I did something new. I turned my head and stared after her.

Kieth did not go without noticing this. He glanced up from his other creations and saw my head in a position in which it should not be able to stay. Very calmly, he walked over, put his hands on my head, and bent it back.

I tasted his finger as he turned my head. It was tantalizing. I wanted more.

The day was wearing on, and I was beginning to bore of standing, so I sat down.

The movement caught Kieth's attention. He looked over and saw me in a position that was totally impossible, with no one around to have moved me. "What the..."

Then I saw it. A little human child was approaching the booth opposite mine. It was alone, separated from its parents. The time to strike came.

I rose up and began walking forward. Everyone around me froze. Good, I thought. If they are not moving, they will not interfere with my kill. The human child saw me approaching and screamed in terror. The memory of it chills my blood, but at the time, it only served to stir my passion for meat. No one moved to protect the boy until...

Just as I leapt, some fool threw himself in my way. I was enraged that he should be so stupid as to try to get between me and my kill, but the rage quickly turned to satisfaction. I would have a bigger meal.

The man put his hand to my mouth to stop me from biting his neck. I simply bit down on his hand. The hand, to my surprise, came off. It was a glove. He was wearing leather gloves. At the time, though, I didn't know the difference. I chewed, only a little puzzled at the absence of blood, and I swallowed.

Nothing happened. The glove remained in my mouth.

I swallowed again, and then again, but the glove remained. But of course. I had no throat.

This only served to infuriate me. Kieth's thoughts had served to program me to kill and devour, but I was unable to devour! In my frustration, I battered the man below me with my plastic claws and teeth.

There was a shot. A bullet whizzed through my neck. A security guard was shooting at me! I felt no pain. I was not made to feel pain. But the sensation was confusing. It did not, however, serve to incapacitate me.

Next, the guard, who was quickly joined by others, began to beat me with sticks. I did not like this. Still guarding my prey, I began to swipe at the guards.

I never saw the last guard come up behind me with a stunner. An amazing surge of electrons overloaded my pufflin neurons, and I fell unconscious.

"Wow!" said Marco. "you were trying to kill the man? I'm amazed they didn't un-stuff you right then and there."

"There were some who wanted to." said Leo. "But thanks to the brave crusaders for the rights of plushies, such as Oren here..."

I smiled at that.

"I couldn't be destroyed without at least a hearing. So, I awoke to find myself in a very strange situation."

"Mr. Lion?"

I awoke to the most grating voice in the world.

"Mr. Lion, can you hear me?"

As sight returned, I focused on what seemed to be iron bars. That did not make me happy. I knew instantly that I had been caged. I sat up, and I saw an even stranger sight. Just outside my cell stood a little purple duck with a briefcase.

He was obviously a plushie. He had velvety fur instead of feathers, and he looked as though all of his stuffing had been somehow squeezed from the top of his head into his big bird butt. He was ridiculous.

"Mr. Lion, my name is Bob Duck." he said. Of course, you know that Bob's beak doesn't open. Hearing him speak with no mouth was a little bit scary. "I am your lawyer." he said.

I just stared.

"Mr. Lion, if you can understand me, it is vitally important that you indicate so."

I reached through the bars at the annoying little bird.

"You cannot scare me." said Bob. "Since I am plush, I cannot be injured by any blunt attack, and I happen to know that your claws and teeth are not sharp enough to rip my material. Besides, you can't eat me. You can't swallow."

I understood what he meant. He was speaking about my throat. It infuriated me that I could not eat. I put my front paws on my neck and roared in anger.

"Ah, so you do comprehend me. Good.

I was infuriated. I wanted to destroy this little purple duck.

"I am going to come in now, if I may."

I watched Bob squeeze effortlessly through the bars of my cell. As soon as he was inside, I grabbed him up and began chewing.

Let me tell you, as silly as Bob may look, he is solidly constructed. I bit him, I clawed him, I pulled him, I tossed him across the room. Through it all, he merely waited patiently. When I was done, I sat down on my haunches, thoroughly exhausted, and stared at the duck, who had not a scratch on him.

"Are you done?" asked Bob.

I just glared. This was not natural. A duck that could not be harmed by a lion seemed an obscene thing. I merely sat and glared.

Leo Lion, please try to understand this. You are on the verge of being destroyed. Now, if you are able to tell me what happened, then maybe we can save you. Listen, I don't believe that you would have harmed anyone if you were free to think on your own. I think you were as good as brainwashed by your creator's intent. Am I right?

I turned my back on the annoying thing with no mouth.

"Leo, please..."

Something was happening in my neural net. The nauseating quacking was starting to bring ideas forward in my consciousness. He had said "destroy". I understood destroy. I wanted to do just that.

"Let me help you, Leo."

Leo... that was me. I was Leo. I understood that. I also understood something else. This Duck was doing something. It was something alien to me. There was an emotion radiating out from his velvet features, but it was not rage or fear or hunger... none of the things I knew.

"They are going to destroy you, Leo."

Destroy... Leo? Was that a threat? Was this duck threatening me? No... there was something else.

"Let me save you."

Save... I understood that. It was what the man had done for the child. He had given himself in the child's place. What was he saying? Was it that I was in danger and needed saving?

Destroy... Leo... Yes, I was in danger! He was telling me that my life was in jeopardy. And... the little duck wanted to save me."

"Save... Leo?" I croaked.

"Yes! YES!" Bob said, very pleased. "Leo, you must tell me everything that happened."

It was still a lot of gibberish, but understanding was slowly coming. Something was happening. Bob's thoughts were changing me.

"Leo destroy." I said. "Leo destroy prey. Eat prey, but no eat. Mouth bad."

The corners of Bob's beak turned up in a smile.

"I don't get it." said Marco. "How come you started talking all of the sudden?"

"It was Bob." Leo explained. "Bob had faith that I could be an intelligent, free being if I so chose. It was his belief that began to shape my mind."

"And he knew this." I affirmed. "Soon after that, Bob began calling the lot of us up to come down there. He figured the more good thoughts there were, the faster Leo could achieve a normal intelligence level."

Marco shook his head. "I don't believe it." he said. "No one else's thoughts affect the way I think." he said.

"Well, not now." Leo replied. "Like me you are, today, a living, whole entity. It is your own thoughts which determine who and what you are. At that time, my neural net, and my mind, were not yet fully formed. I was still susceptible to the thoughts of others.

"Uh huh..."

The hearing was a long, boring affair. Bob had made sure that this was deliberately so. He had brought in more people than I could count to testify. He had them all sitting right behind me, thinking at me.

I didn't understand a lot of what was said. I wasn't that intelligent yet. I remember what Oren said, though. He was among the last ones to speak. The other side was first to question him.

"Name?"

"Oren Verden."

"Mister Verden, pardon my curiosity, but exactly why have you worn a teddy bear suit to this hearing?"

Oren sighed. "First of all, it's not a bear suit, it's an otter suit. Bears don't have long tails and flippers."

A chuckle rose among those assembled.

"As for why I wore it, I'm afraid I don't have much of a choice. It doesn't come off."

"Are you telling me that you are a plush animal?"

Oren was indignant. "I know very well that you can see inside my eyeholes. I am a man who was inadvertently bonded to a pufflin filled costume. Now grow up and start asking some intelligent questions that are relevant to this hearing."

The lawyer was quite taken aback, but continued as if nothing had happened. "Would you be kind enough to tell us your relationship to plush animals in general?"

"I am an amateur expert of plushies and the pufflin phenomenon. I've also fought a number of legal battles for the rights of Plushies."

"And is it true that you fraternize with them regularly at... what is it? 'Joe's Coffee House'?"

"I do."

"In your experience, what is the personality archetype of a plush animal?"

"There is no archetype. Every plushie is different. No two develop alike."

"So you're saying that their development is unpredictable?"

"I'm saying that they're people."

The opposition let out a harrumph. "The law does not recognize plush animals as people."

"That is something I am endeavoring to correct. Mr. prosecutor..."

"I am not a prosecutor. This is a hearing, not a trial."

"That point is debatable. Listen. Leo here wasn't given a chance. He was programmed by his creator to be a vicious cold- blooded killer. Isn't it possible that this can be changed? If it's not possible, we'd better reinforce the death penalty, because there's no way a criminal is going to go straight once you let him out of jail."

"Again, you make parallels between stuffed animals and people..."

"Plushies are people! Leo has as much capacity for growth as anyone else!"

"Do you intend to prove this?"

"Indeed I do." Oren stepped down and approached me. "What is your name?" He asked.

"Leo." I answered.

"And do you understand why you are here?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To determine if I am dangerous."

"And do you understand what will happen if they determine that you are?"

"I'll be destroyed."

"How does the thought of destruction make you feel?"

"Angry. Frightened."

"Who is that man?" he asked, pointing to the opposing attorney.

"He's the one who's trying to prove that I'm dangerous."

"You understand that he poses a threat to you?"

"I do."

"Objection!" shouted the lawyer.

At that point, Oren undid the chain that bound me. "What are you going to do about it?"

There were cries of alarm when I was freed to move about the courtroom. The Judge started to demand my capture, but Oren held a hand up to ask him to wait, a gesture that could have gotten him locked away, or worse. I walked over to the man who was trying to see me destroyed. He hopped on the table. I fixed my gaze on him and I said...

"Please, Sir, I want to live. Please don't make them destroy me."

Oren smiled with his mask. "Vicious cold-blooded killer?" he said. "I don't think so."

The judge rose from his seat. "Mister Verden, I am going to let you walk away from this courtroom a free man, provided you never do anything like that again. While I do not approve of such carnival tactics, I believe the we can agree that Leo is not a mindless monster. I hereby release you into the custody of your attorney, Bob the Duck, for a one-year probationary period."

"You did that to a judge?" said Marco, his little plastic eyes looking even wider than normal. "Are you a crazy man?"

"I am one who takes calculated risks." I answered. "Well, the storm is letting up, so I'm going to head home. Anybody need a ride?"

The parking lot was a mass of puddles. By the time I made it to my car, my flippers were like lead weights. Marco, riding in Stuffy's pouch, came by as I started the engine.

"Oren?" he said.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for saving my friend so that I could meet him."

"You're welcome." I replied with a smile on my mask as I shifted into reverse and drove off into the night.