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Description
I'm not really important, but I make do. And that's fine with me. I'm not even that old. Maybe a year or so older than the hot shot newer toys, but not old enough to hold a status among the stuffed animals she sleeps with every night. I'm just an average bedroom citizen. But I have stories of sorts. And every child's toy knows that it's a story that counts. Stories are the backbone of everything mystical and true, and stories are what last. We toys don't last very long at all, but when you can tell a story…then it doesn't matter that your eyes are falling out, that the dog chewed your left hand last Saturday. Stories elevate us. They almost make us feel like books. And that is a feeling of worth!
My name is Urban. Francesca is a very smart girl. She said that she named me after the Pope that gave the crown to Charlemagne a long time ago. He was called Pope Urban. But since I'm only a manatee filled with plastic pellets, she felt that it would be socially misleading to leave "Pope" in the name. So I'm just Urban. The first three years of my life are a little blurry. I was a baby present to begin with. There was a baby boy who was going to be a doctor or something and his great aunt bought me on sale at a small store. I wasn't much-a "Beanie Baby" without a TY tag, you know the type. Anyway, you would think this baby was the next President the way his mom doted on him. I wasn't in the hands of Baby President Chase for very long though. One day his mother tucked me into his baby seat and took him to the grocery store. She wasn't a very intelligent woman. What three month old is going to take care of a manatee? And so I fell out in the parking lot. It was a rainy day. Wet, cold, alone, and without a TY tag, I thought I was a goner for sure. A worker was going to come find me when they collected the carts and throw me away. Or I would just get run over by so many cars my stuffing would fall out and my eyes would get scratched off. But I had been there a few hours, worried stiff and getting soaked, when a little girl picked me up off the pavement and squeezed the water out of me. She didn't point and say "Look, Mommy!" the way little kids do. She just picked me up and put me next to her on the car seat while her mother loaded groceries into the trunk. When the car finally stopped at a medium sized house and the bags had all been brought in, Francesca (I had discovered the girl's name along the way) took me up to her bedroom, wiped all the dirt off of me with a towel and dried me with a blow drier. It was incredibly warm and strong. That is when she named me Urban. She had just finished reading a book about Charlemagne for school. And so I became a citizen of the Beanie Baby society. We are an extensive group. There is Reepicheep, the Hamster. He usually thinks he is more important than everyone else, but he has such good ideas, we let him think highly of himself. Duchess the cat is the mother of the mini beanies; Dorothy the Dalmatian cooks the world's best play food. There are about 3 dozen of us and we all take care of each other and make sure no one is left out. I have to say as a manatee it was hard to keep up with the fast paced lifestyle of a Beanie Baby at first, but they all understood where I was coming from and soon I was leading expeditions myself! What's that? Expeditions? Oh, Francesca was a very adventurous girl. She sent us out on Beanie Baby expeditions at least once a week. It was her favorite thing to play. Her little sister Lena usually came up with splendid ideas too. I've rappelled off the balcony twice, and nearly a dozen times we have all rafted down the waterfall stairway on little golden book rafts. Tents were made from washcloths, and of course, magnificent battles were held whenever we played a certain Franciscan Monk CD that Francesca borrowed from her Father after school. It is always great fun. Especially when we lose and we get to pretend to be slaughtered for the sake of freedom. Reepicheep is always the king of course, but Shep the Bull Terrier is nearly always the heroic captain. He looks good in those paper helmets Francesca makes for us. Mystic the Unicorn is the daring, but beautiful Princess of the kingdom. I'm telling you, it's like a Hollywood movie when we put on the works.
These are the days! And now that Francesca is in college, and Lena is in highschool, we all live in their little brother's room. You can imagine the battles we put on now! We even get to be flying ace's now! And one day we all opened a restaurant in Paris and cooked up the most delicious lobster bisque you ever pretended to taste. Being a manatee is one of the best things to ever happen to a toy I think. And it makes for one exciting story.

Description
I'm not really important, but I make do. And that's fine with me. I'm not even that old. Maybe a year or so older than the hot shot newer toys, but not old enough to hold a status among the stuffed animals she sleeps with every night. I'm just an average bedroom citizen. But I have stories of sorts. And every child's toy knows that it's a story that counts. Stories are the backbone of everything mystical and true, and stories are what last. We toys don't last very long at all, but when you can tell a story…then it doesn't matter that your eyes are falling out, that the dog chewed your left hand last Saturday. Stories elevate us. They almost make us feel like books. And that is a feeling of worth!
My name is Urban. Francesca is a very smart girl. She said that she named me after the Pope that gave the crown to Charlemagne a long time ago. He was called Pope Urban. But since I'm only a manatee filled with plastic pellets, she felt that it would be socially misleading to leave "Pope" in the name. So I'm just Urban. The first three years of my life are a little blurry. I was a baby present to begin with. There was a baby boy who was going to be a doctor or something and his great aunt bought me on sale at a small store. I wasn't much-a "Beanie Baby" without a TY tag, you know the type. Anyway, you would think this baby was the next President the way his mom doted on him. I wasn't in the hands of Baby President Chase for very long though. One day his mother tucked me into his baby seat and took him to the grocery store. She wasn't a very intelligent woman. What three month old is going to take care of a manatee? And so I fell out in the parking lot. It was a rainy day. Wet, cold, alone, and without a TY tag, I thought I was a goner for sure. A worker was going to come find me when they collected the carts and throw me away. Or I would just get run over by so many cars my stuffing would fall out and my eyes would get scratched off. But I had been there a few hours, worried stiff and getting soaked, when a little girl picked me up off the pavement and squeezed the water out of me. She didn't point and say "Look, Mommy!" the way little kids do. She just picked me up and put me next to her on the car seat while her mother loaded groceries into the trunk. When the car finally stopped at a medium sized house and the bags had all been brought in, Francesca (I had discovered the girl's name along the way) took me up to her bedroom, wiped all the dirt off of me with a towel and dried me with a blow drier. It was incredibly warm and strong. That is when she named me Urban. She had just finished reading a book about Charlemagne for school. And so I became a citizen of the Beanie Baby society. We are an extensive group. There is Reepicheep, the Hamster. He usually thinks he is more important than everyone else, but he has such good ideas, we let him think highly of himself. Duchess the cat is the mother of the mini beanies; Dorothy the Dalmatian cooks the world's best play food. There are about 3 dozen of us and we all take care of each other and make sure no one is left out. I have to say as a manatee it was hard to keep up with the fast paced lifestyle of a Beanie Baby at first, but they all understood where I was coming from and soon I was leading expeditions myself! What's that? Expeditions? Oh, Francesca was a very adventurous girl. She sent us out on Beanie Baby expeditions at least once a week. It was her favorite thing to play. Her little sister Lena usually came up with splendid ideas too. I've rappelled off the balcony twice, and nearly a dozen times we have all rafted down the waterfall stairway on little golden book rafts. Tents were made from washcloths, and of course, magnificent battles were held whenever we played a certain Franciscan Monk CD that Francesca borrowed from her Father after school. It is always great fun. Especially when we lose and we get to pretend to be slaughtered for the sake of freedom. Reepicheep is always the king of course, but Shep the Bull Terrier is nearly always the heroic captain. He looks good in those paper helmets Francesca makes for us. Mystic the Unicorn is the daring, but beautiful Princess of the kingdom. I'm telling you, it's like a Hollywood movie when we put on the works.
These are the days! And now that Francesca is in college, and Lena is in highschool, we all live in their little brother's room. You can imagine the battles we put on now! We even get to be flying ace's now! And one day we all opened a restaurant in Paris and cooked up the most delicious lobster bisque you ever pretended to taste. Being a manatee is one of the best things to ever happen to a toy I think. And it makes for one exciting story.