Not exactly the recorded version, but Kim's smile is ridiculously happy:
The bear grabbed Joe around the waist.
"Hi friend," said the bear in a sing-song voice. Joe gurgled and his eyes bulged. He dropped the carton of milk he was holding and it spilled all over the floor. The bear nuzzled Joe's neck with his wet nose.
"Erghk!" grunted Joe. He wriggled down and out of the bear's grip, crawling on the floor, through the milk, and pulled himself upright with the fridge handle.
The bear stared at him with big eyes and smiled, revealing his ample canines.
"I told you not to do that," said Joe. He adjusted his pajama shirt, which had been twisted around when he freed himself.
"But we always hug," said the bear, blinking blankly.
"Yes. And that's got to stop. You've got to stop coming around." Joe bent down and shook his pantlegs, but it was no use. The milk was fully soaked in. He righted the carton and put it on the counter, then pulled on the roll of paper towels hung under the kitchen cabinets and ripped off several sheets, dropped them to the floor and swiped them around the mess with his foot.
"Why?" asked the bear.
Joe stopped swiping and sighed heavily.
"We've had a lot of great times together," said Joe. He paused and then looked up at the bear, who stood comfortably on two feet, with the brown fur on his head scraping the ceiling. Joe pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "But to be honest buddy, that pretty much ended when I was five. You've been an unending nightmare ever since."
The bear stopped smiling.
"I thought you would have gotten the hint a long time ago."
"No. No I didn't." The bear turned towards the sink and put his paws down on the edge of it. Claws clicked against the stainless steel.
"It's just that I would like you to leave. Permanently."
The bear started to breath rapidly.
"I'm forty now. I have children of my own. I can't have an imaginary friend. I've never been able to explain you to my wife Vivian. There's no room in this house for you, even if you only appear at night. You have to go."
Joe put a hand against the fur of the bear's nearest foreleg. The bear started to hyperventilate.
"But...where...will...I...go? I...can't go. I'm...part of...you!"
"That's not my problem," said Joe. The words lingered in the air.
Suddenly the bear grabbed the faucet.
"ERROAWR!" PSSSHTHH. He ripped the faucet out and water sprayed all over the kitchen. Joe backed up against the fridge then slipped and fell onto the pile of paper towels.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" said the bear. He placed his paws over the open pipe and tried to contain the water. "Please don't make me go! It won't happen again! I swear!"
Joe closed his eyes tight until the sound of the spraying water went away.
He opened them. There was no water or milk on the floor. The milk carton was in his hand, still full. Joe took a swig. He absentmindedly swept a single brown hair from the front of his pajamas.