If Bears Could Type: July 2012

In the novel I'm writing because I'm a bear who types so obviously I'm writing a novel, there is a scene where monsters have just barged in on a little boy with the intention of eating him because he throws fits and whines and doesn't obey. The nature of their entry, the roaring and being monsters, and that sort of thing startled the little boy so much that he was completely quiet, casting doubt on the monsters original belief that there was a little boy there they could eat. I don't know if the following segment will make it into the final project because it's not so much a novel as it is a children's book.
You be the judge.
Feel free to leave your comments.

The little boy was too surprised to answer them so he just stood there and stared at the monstrous consequences of his disobedience that were now standing in the living room.

The monsters stood there quiet, waiting for the cute little boy to answere them, but he said nothing.
He was too scared to say anying.
He knew who the little boy they had heard throwing a huge fit was.
It was him, of course, but he didn’t want to tell them that because he was frightened by their giant alligator snouts, their bright orange pointy horns, and their long sharp pointy porcupine needles that covered their entire backs except for a small spot where a excitedly wagging giant puppy dog-like tail protruded. He also didn’t like the look of their long, pointy bear claws attached to giant, hairy, bear-like paws which were attached to giant, hairy, bear-like arms which were attached to their... giant, soft, furry bodies? (except for their backs)
After several more moments of the cute little boy not answering, another of the monsters turned to his fellow monsters, “Say guys, you think maybe we got the wrong house? This handsome little guy hasn’t made a sound since we’ve been here.” He turned back to the little boy, and continued as reached towards him. “ I kind doubt that a quiet, adorable little sack of cute like this is who we heard throwing such a terrible fit, are ya little fella?” he said, tossling the cute little boy’s hair with his giant monster bear-like paw. A look of concern flashed across the monster’s face and He turned back to the first monster.
“Gene, I hate to bring this up again, especially right now, but I really feel like you’re frightening a lot of these kids with your barging in and roaring questions and not saying please. Look at him. You can’t tell me he doesn’t look a little scared.”
Gene, looked irritated. “Well you would know with your Child Psychology degree now, wouldn’t you, Jerry? Oops. Did I say child psychology degree? what I meant was that 3 semesters of community college followed by “just taking a little break,” a break, which you’re still taking 17 years later. Help me out, Jerry, because I’m always getting the two confused. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of that whole, I want to be a composer thing during the Classical era. It’s been, what? 250 years? and what have you composed, Jerry? I didn’t say a thing when you ordered all that music writing software after we watched The Holiday because you were going to compose movie scores “just like Jack Black did” - So what if I cried when that blonde chick went to the award banquet with the nice old Jewish man and then Jack Black acted on the old Jewish guy’s advice and confessed his true feelings for her in front of everyone. That was just emotionally powerful, compelling story telling. All I’m saying is you didn’t compose shit. Did you ever even install the software. God Dammit, Jerry! I’m so sick of your know it all bull shit. We all are. FUCK! JERRY! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUUUUUCK!”
The final “fuck” exploded out of Gene’s monstrous mouth in a roar of anger and frustration, his enormous paws, which he had been waving with increased animation throughout his tirade, came smashing down on a coffee table he had been standing next to with a violent force, smashing the little table into a pile of splinters and parenting magazines.
The other monsters were now staring uncomfortably at the floor, several of them awkwardly shuffling their giant monster bear clawed bunny feet as if kicking an imaginary ball back and forth amongst each other. A tear ran down Jerry’s monster face and dripped onto the carpet , burning a golf ball sized hole all the way through to the concrete where it landed.
Gene continued glaring angrily at Jerry and then his face softened and he looked ashamed.
“Oh man, Jerry. You’re right.” Gene said apologetically. “I am coming across too strong, but not just to the kids, to all of you guys, my fellow monsters, as well...and especially to you, Jerry. I’m really sorry.
Look man, I know you’ll go back to school and finish that associates in office administration so you can get a better paying job and then hopefully get into a Child Psychology Program like you’ve been dreaming about. And you think I don’t remember 1782? I do. Mozart was killing it. Who didn’t secretly want to be a composer? You were the only one with the monster balls big enough to actually do something about it then when Mozart inspired you and again later when Jack Black’s character in The Holiday inspired you the same way Mozart did. You never let go of that dream I admire that about you. Being 900 years old has made me such a cynic...plus I’m just so hungry right now, and Jerry, you know I get edgy and today I crossed the line. I feel really terrible.”
Gene then looked down at the cute little boy, who was still standing there watching them, not saying a word. “I’m sorry, little guy. I’ll replace that table. Uncle Jerry, over there, is right. I owe you an apology. Here’s the thing. We are very hungry and we only eat one thing: boys and girls who whine and cry and who throw fits and don’t obey. We heard someone throwing a fit so we came over to eat him, but it looks like we’ve made a mistake. Can I tell you a little secret?”
The boy nodded his head.
“We do eat 3 other things. Pudding, string cheese, and...well...I’m sure a sweet little boy like you wouldn’t have any of the third, parents who abandon their kids, so if you have some pudding or string cheese, we could all eat some together. You like pudding and string cheese don’t you?”
The little boy nodded his head again.
“Good. Do you have some pudding and string cheese we could eat? Then we’ll get out of your hair, I promise.”