The hungry polar bear

The golem entered his cabin in the woods which he had inherited from his grandfather.

He had been out collecting stones and boulders all day long. It was a lucrative business. But he was tyred. The last thing he needed to see was a haggard starved polar bear in his living room. The young golem stood there, transfixed, angry, in disbelieve; frozen to death. Scared. The polar bear had kept his wits without delay, stood his mighty height and showed his fangs still dripping with blood from the deplorable bat he just ripped. He roared an incredibly menacing howl. The golem appeared to shake and finally run out of the cabin slamming the door shut and bolted it with the crowbar that was leaning next to him on the wall.

The golem was a digger. Often he had to dig out boulders too set too deep into the ground. Now he ran for his life right to his excavator. The engine started smoothly, just as he liked it, then he slammed his foot onto the gas pedal, striking the wheel around and headed straight toward his cabin. He was prepared for this. The door was wide enough to crash it down including the crowbar and approached the ferocious beast still roaring.

By the time his machine hit the opposite stone wall of his cabin the bucket had sliced the wild animal in half. He got out from his seat and asked unkindly: who the hell left the window open. A bat settled on his shoulder.