Goldilocks, Go Home!
Text copyright © 2019 by Martha Freeman
Illustrations copyright © 2019 by Marta Sevilla
All Rights Reserved
HOLIDAY HOUSE is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
www.holidayhouse.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Freeman, Martha, author. | Sevilla, Marta (Illustrator), illustrator.
Title: Goldilocks, go home / by Martha Freeman; illustrations by Marta Sevilla.
Description: First edition. | New York : Holiday House, [2019] | Summary:
Baby Bear and Goldilocks contentiously relate the events of an action-packed week in the Enchanted Forest when Goldilocks stays with the three bears waiting for the Big Bad Wolf to leave.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018016637 | ISBN 9780823438570 (hardcover)
Subjects: | CYAC: Characters in literature—Fiction. | Bears—Fiction
Wolves—Fiction. | Humorous stories.
Classification: LCC PZ7.F87496 Go 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23 LC record
available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018016637
ISBN: 978-0-8234-3857-0 (hardcover)
Ebook ISBN 9780823442232
v5.4
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To librarians who read aloud classics old and new at story hour
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue: The Furless, Yellow-Haired Creature
1. Why Did the Wolf Cross the Road?
2. Disaster Area
3. Now a Word from the Virtuous, Fair-Haired Princess
4. Worst of All: The Wolf!
5. Who Goes There?
6. A Manicure Would Do Wonders
7. I Hope the Castle Has Twinkle Lights
8. Fuzzed!
9. A Trio of Large and Fearsome Animals
10. Go Ahead, Scare Her
11. Stay Away from the Castle!
12. Guess Who Had to Sleep on the Floor?
13. Does the Wolf Talk, Too?
14. Baby’s My Job Description
15. Unbearable
16. You’re Making This Up!
17. What Even Is a Grub, Anyway?
18. Bobby “Bad Boy” Bear
19. Knock Knock!
20. Nice Knowing You
21. Won’t You Please Come In?
22. Come Closer, Child and Cub
23. You’re the One with Claws
24. I’m Here to Fetch the Heart of the Little Girl
25. Can’t Catch Me!
26. We Didn’t Get Eaten
27. Wolf Soup
28. I Guess We’re on Our Own
29. A Note on My Pillow
30. No Time for Discussion
31. Wolf Kibble
32. Three Bites
33. Run for It, Furless!
34. If It Looks Like an Invader and Cries Like an Invader
Epilogue: Another Furless Female
Once upon a time there were three bears, Mama Bear, Papa Bear, and Bobby Bear, and they lived in a tidy cottage. Life was happy for the three bears.
I should know.
I’m Bobby.
Do me a favor? Pay no attention to the furless, yellow-haired creature.
As I was saying. Life was happy for the three bears…until the day a furless creature with yellow hair who thinks she’s so funny invaded their space.
After that, nothing was the same.
My story begins on an ordinary Tuesday, the thirty-third morning in a row that Mama had made porridge for breakfast. (Before that, she’d been on a bark-and-beetles kick.) Papa and I looked at the porridge, and then at each other.
Hey, are you dissing my mama’s cooking?
You want to know what I really hate?
Interruptions!
Now, where was I? Oh yes. Papa asked, “Who wants to go for a walk?” And then he whispered in my ear, “Maybe we can pick some blueberries—jazz it up a little.”
I grabbed a basket, and out the door we went.
It was a lovely morning, and we saw lots of neighbors. The tortoise sat under a tree playing her harp.
The Pig Brothers went by, pushing wheelbarrows loaded with bricks, sticks, and straw. Since they got their own show on HoGTV, those guys are always remodeling.
Farther along, the swan formerly known as ugly duckling admired his reflection in the pond.
When we got to the meadow, Coyote appeared ahead of us on the path. As usual, he had a joke: “Why did the wolf cross the road?”
I thought for a second. “Maybe he was chasing the chicken?”
Coyote looked disappointed. “You already heard this one.”
“I hope it wasn’t the little red hen,” Mama said. “She’s a hard worker, a real credit to the barnyard.”
“Did the wolf catch the chicken?” I asked Coyote.
“You guys are a terrible audience. You know that, right?” Coyote said.
“We just want the chicken to be okay,” I said.
“You’ll have to ask the wolf about that,” Coyote said.
“Oh, no,” Mama said firmly. “Baby…that is Bobby will not be asking the wolf any such thing. Bobby is a good and careful little bear. He does not talk to strangers.”
Coyote sighed. “I was trying to be funny.”
“There is nothing funny about the wolf,” Mama said.
“Time to move along?” Papa said.
“See ya, Bobby Baby,” said Coyote.
“See ya ‘round, clown,” I said.
The best blueberries are by the bramble patch. Cock Robin and his friends had picked them over, but there were enough to improve porridge. My basket was almost full by the time we headed home.
So far, the morning had seemed like any other.
Little did we know the wolf was not the only threat that lurked in our woods. Little did we know there was an intruder.
By now you’ve probably guessed the intruder’s identity. She was none other than the furless yellow-hair we are currently trying to ignore. Her name? Goldilocks.
Most of the time, creatures such as she do not dare enter our woods. This is for one good reason: the wolf.
If we smell, how come you moved in with us?
You see what I’ve had to put up with? It’s more than a baby, I mean a Bobby, should have to bear—get it?
But let’s get back to my story.
Not suspecting anything was wrong, Mama, Papa, and I returned to the tidy cottage. Only it wasn’t tidy at all. It was a disaster area!
And where was the cause of the disaster?
We looked in the kitchen. We looked in the parlor. We looked in my bedroom—and there she was!
“Mama! Papa!” I cried. “Somebody’s sleeping in my bed!”
I was startled, I don’t mind saying. I had never before seen anything so furless. Was it a new kind of reptile?
Papa explained. “That, son, is a human. Female, by the looks of her.”
Papa’s deep voice must have woken her up. She opened her eyes. She sat up straight.
“Tell that human she’s outta here!” I cried.
Mama looked at me sternly. “Bobby Bear, where are your manners?”
“You’re right.” I apologized. “Tell that human she’s outta here please!”
Blah, blah, blah. Boring, boring, boring. Move over, Bobby Bear. It’s
my turn!
Once upon a time there was a virtuous, fair-haired princess—
—named Goldilocks who, owing to some cosmic mistake, was being raised by humble peasant folk in a gated community in the burbs.
Even though Goldilocks did not live like a princess, she was happy.
She liked Grimm Elementary School where her teacher was a witch, but not a wicked one.
She liked her best friend, Jack, who was good with plants, particularly beanstalks.
She liked her kung fu lessons with Mulan, and her cooking classes with the butcher and the baker.
Every Saturday, she went to the library for story hour with Scheherazade. Her favorite books were realistic fiction.
The story of the virtuous, fair-haired princess begins once upon a Monday after school. She and the peasant woman were having a quarrel. Never mind the reason for the quarrel.
Are you even listening? I did not say mother. I said peasant woman. And the argument—whatever its cause—was a doozy. Yelling, crying—the works!
At last the fair-haired princess had had enough. “No one around here even loves me!” she declared. “I am running away to find my real parents, the king and queen, and my real house, the castle.”
“Do give it a rest, Goldi, honey,” said the peasant woman. “Who besides family would put up with your drama?”
The peasant woman tried to catch the princess in a hug, but the princess slipped from her grip and stomped right out the door.
“Be home for dinner,” the peasant woman called. “We’re having wild-boar burgers, your favorite. Oh—and whatever you do, stay out of the woods!”
The peasant woman’s words gave the princess an idea. She wasn’t sure where to find the castle, but the woods were a good place to start.
Over the years, the virtuous, fair-haired princess had heard many stories about the woods.
Her friend Vasilisa said a witch named Baba Yaga lived there in a house built out of bones. The twins, Hansel and Gretel, said yes, there was a witch, but her house was made of gingerbread, and you’d better not sneak a bite.
Momotaro, a new boy at school, said never mind witches, there were demons in the woods, and one day he and his friend the talking dog would take them on.
The walk to the woods took the princess beyond the mall to the burbs’ far reaches. Along the highway she passed Aladdin’s Lighting Store, Cinderella’s Shoes, and Ali Baba Flooring.
Just past the Sleeping Beauty Thousand-Winks Motel she stopped at a footbridge spanning a brook. On the other side were trees and shadows—in other words, the woods.
The princess thought of the stories she’d heard: the witches; the demons; and worst of all, the wolf!
He was clever. He was hungry. He had sharp claws and vicious teeth.
The princess’s heart went thud.
A wild-boar burger sounded pretty good.
Should she turn back?
No! Not all of us are good and careful all the time, Bobby. Some of us have guts.
Not that kind of guts. The kind that gives you courage!
Squaring her shoulders, the princess took one step, then another onto the bridge. She was halfway across when a deep and gravelly voice called out from below: “Halt! Who goes there?”
Hang on, Bobby! I’m not done yet!
Never mind him. Where was I? Oh yes, as I was saying: “Halt! Who goes there?”
The princess stopped in her tracks. “I think I know this one,” she said. “Can you give me a hint?”
“No hints.”
“In that case, I give up. Who goes there?”
“I am the one who asks questions,” said the voice. “You do not ask questions.”
“Why not?” the princess asked.
“Because…” the voice began, then stopped. “Hey wait, that was another question!”
“Hahaha—I wondered if you’d notice.” The princess took three steps and then the bridge began to rumble.
“Who goes there?” demanded the voice.
By this time the princess was annoyed. “Sheesh—I hope not everyone in the woods is as big a grumpy pants as you.”
“I am not a grumpy pants!” said the voice. “I am a troll!”
And you know what? He really was! The princess found this out a moment later when he appeared before her, blocking her path.
Now, I don’t mean to be mean, but this troll was really unattractive—pale green skin and a bad buzz cut straight out of the fifties.
I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Bobby Bear. You wouldn’t know a princess if one bit you.
If I was, I wouldn’t bite you. Bleahh! Bear fur. Yuck.
As I was saying, the virtuous fair-haired princess as usual remembered her manners and extended her delicate hand.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Troll,” she said. “I believe we have a mutual friend. Do you know the Beast? He hangs out with one of my BFFs, Beauty. No one’s clear exactly what their status is, if you get my drift, but rumor has it—”
“Silence!” the troll cried.
For a moment after that, the only sounds were birds singing and leaves rustling. Soon, though, the princess’s kind heart got the best of her.
“You know something? A manicure would do wonders for those gnarly fingers, and I bet you could use a pedicure, too, only please please please don’t show me your toes. Anyway, you want my advice, you’ll go see Thumbelina. She works at Rapunzel’s Let-Down-Your-Hair Salon.”
The troll studied his fingernails. “I am overdue,” he admitted. “But who shall I say sent me?”
“Oh no.” The princess shook her head. “I’m not falling for that one’”
The troll was big and scary. But the princess was quick. Without further ado, she made like an NFL prospect: faked right, spun left, and ran for daylight up the middle.
“See ya later, Mr. Troll—not!” she called back. Then almost before she knew it, she was smack dab in the woods.
Night fell, and it was very, very dark, because—guess what—there are no streetlights in the woods.
Feeling her way, the princess wandered up one path and down another. Soon she was cold and hungry, tired and lonely.
Finally, virtuous (and fair-haired) though she was, the princess had to admit she was lost.
“I hope the castle has twinkle lights,” she said to herself. “If it doesn’t, I’ll walk right by and never see it.”
No sooner had she uttered these words than she saw a light in the distance. What a cool coincidence if it turned out to be the castle!
Not all fairy tales. Because this light was small and low to the ground, nothing to do with a castle at all. Indeed, as Goldilocks watched, she saw that it was bouncing along.
Fine. Impress us with your knowledge.
He’s right! Score one for the furry short guy!
Sadly, the friendly light soon faded, and the rising moon spread spooky, ghastly shadows. Soon the princess began to shiver.
And that’s when something horrible happened.
No, not the wolf.
Ha! Says you! What happened was horrible too! I will bet you a bowl of blueberries.
A sticky, creepy, fly-specked, scary, clinging, disgusting spider web! Which grabbed on to the princess’s face in the dark, and would not let go!
I know, right?
After the princess got done screaming, she looked around for the spider and got mad. “I will squash you like the bug you are!”
“But I am not a bug,” the spider replied. “I am an arachnid.”
“Squash you like an arachnid, then! I never saw your web at all—then wham-o I got fuzzed!”
Shuddering, the princess tried to wipe away the schmutz.
“That’s what you get for having only TWO eyes,” the spider said. “Anyway, my apologies
. My web is meant to trap insects not children.”
“I’ll have you know I am a princess.”
“That’s what they all say. How did you get past the troll? Didn’t he ask, ‘Who goes there?’”
“I wouldn’t tell him,” the princess said.
“Very tricky,” said the spider. “And I should know. Anansi’s my name, and tricks are my game. If you had told him, he would’ve been allowed to eat you.”
“Who made that rule?” said the princess.
“Other trolls, I guess. So what brings you to the woods?”
“I’m looking for my real parents. They live in a castle. Do you know them?”
“Are they humans like you? Known to carry scepters and wear crowns?”
“That’s them!” said the princess, overjoyed. Maybe finding her real parents would be easier than she thought.
“Never heard of ‘em,” the spider said. “Anyway, humans don’t live in the woods. Everyone knows that.”
The princess choked back a sob. “I didn’t know that, and if it’s true, it means I’ll never find my real parents. Plus I’m cold and I’m tired. And it’s dark. And I haven’t had my supper—”
“Enough, already!” For a spider, Anansi was not very patient. “You whine more than some doomed flies of my acquaintance. Tell you what. Take the next left, and you’ll come to a tidy cottage. Maybe someone there will take you in.”