The clavacles

After Friday I began a quest for a better baclava. I searched the deep dark halls of my house for many minutes before I uncovered the clava the lady bear had bestowed upon me for the chistmas. And It was perfect!

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Then I spotted a problem.
A pom pom, the scourge of of all helmeted cold weather bipeds.

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I rushed to my stuff drawer, frantically feeling for my shearing shears
With trembling hands I wrestled the clava to the table.

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In one mighty squeeze I lopped off the pom pom and it tumbled to the ground.

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Having defeated my enemy, I celebrated.

And now tenderfoot has a new hat.

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