Honey Bear, my love. Take a seat on one of the tree stumps over here. Me and the cubs wanted to gather you today because your behavior we’ve seen over the last few months has been, well, unbearable. As the head of the sleuth, we rely on you to show us model behavior, and the way you’re cleaning your bottom is something we cannot bear to see any longer.
Sorry I’m choking up, but we can’t watch you use a bidet to clean your behind any longer. This isn’t who we are, and looking back, it’s hard to admit we didn’t see the warning signs.
The signs were all there right in front of us. It all started during COVID-19. The toilet paper shortage was hard on our family. I know how many people you mauled to get us a 3-ply pack just to get us past that first month. We were locked down in our cave for so long. I know isolation and hibernation for too long isn’t good for you and you start having scary thoughts.
As weeks went by, I noticed you coming out of the bathroom with a damp butthole. It was clean, don’t get me wrong, but that booty was wet. I couldn’t understand why, and then I realized we were using toilet paper so much slower than we used to. We usually go through it so quickly because we take out a long piece and wipe our butts with it like it’s a towel. But it turns out, you were hiding a bidet in a tree hollow. I couldn’t believe it.
Needless to say, we feel absolutely betrayed. How can you replace the ultra-strong quilted quality that Charmin provides for a small water spigot that shoots water at your ass? How did you even hear about a bidet? Do you have a mistress in Europe I don’t know about? It’s your job as the father to be a role model to these cubs and teach them proper toilet paper usage. Soon our cubs are going to be turning into teenagers and they’re going to start rebelling, stealing honey from our top cabinet, staying out past hunting hours… and I don’t even want to know how kids these days are cleaning up after themselves.
I hope you really start to understand how this all makes us feel.
We’re concerned about your well-being, first and forest-most. Where is the water you’re shooting up your hole coming from? It could be laced with some type of bacteria for all you know. If it’s the stream near our home, I can tell you that at best, it’s sewage water, based on the number of UTIs I’ve gotten. Knowing this, who knows when your next bidet shoot-up will be your last?
This new habit affects our entire family. You know Timmy looks up to you. He wants to be just like his daddy, to the point that he’s followed in his father’s footsteps doing multi-million dollar commercials. And what about our work and our livelihood? What if the people buying our product knew that the main spokesbear for the Charmin brand was shooting sewage water up his bunghole? That you don’t even use the softness and strength of Charmin for all your pooping needs? We’d be broke, Hank. We could kiss our timeshare in Vegas goodbye, that’s for sure.
With all that said, we are asking you to seek treatment. There’s a great clinic on the other side of the woods where Goldilocks got murdered. They revamped Grandma’s house to be a long and short-term care for those struggling with hibernation withdrawal, bidet addiction, and anger management. I’ve called, and there’s a spot open for you, if you want it.
I grabbed a bowl of porridge recently with the Brawny man’s wife, and he went through something similar when he started cleaning with reusable dish cloths. She said he went on and on about “going green,” but rehab was able to help him, and he’s back to wasting paper and killing the forests we inhabit. And if the Brawny man can do it with his toxic masculinity and everything, I know you can. We want to be here in your recovery, Hank, and we want to see you be well again, back to your old self of rubbing TP across your hairy cheeks, totally missing your asshole, walking around with shit still in your fur and sitting on our living room couch. I want my nasty Hank back.
I’m just kicking myself that I didn’t realize what you were doing earlier. We’re a tight-knit family, to the point that we’re watching each other wipe the shit off our asses as a family in the bathroom, on national TV. But what we want you to know is, we love you, we support you and your road to recovery, and we look forward to seeing you back on the porcelain throne, killing our country’s national forests one roll at a time.
