Goldilocks, Go Home! Read online

  Poor princess. Little did she know the spider was playing a trick.

  The tidy cottage wasn’t to the left at all; it was straight ahead.

  Finally, after wandering all night, she came to it in the morning. By then she was too tired even to wonder who lived there. When no one answered her knock, she tried the door and found it was unlocked.

  Because “the princess” is more poetical.

  Don’t say it, Bobby.

  I said don’t say it! This is my part of the story, and in my part of the story, I can be whoever I want.

  Now, where was I? Oh yes, once she was inside, the virtuous fair-haired princess—

  —encountered porridge, chairs, and beds. Some of the porridge, frankly, was not up to princess standards, but one bowl—

  —was just right. So she ate it.

  Similarly, TWO of the chairs lacked something in the comfort department. But one chair—

  —was just right. Sad to say, it suffered from poor workmanship and soon fell apart the tiniest bit.

  By this time the princess was sleepy and sought a bed. Once again, she found three. Two were inadequate. But the third—

  —was darn comfy. In no time the virtuous princess fell into dreamy slumber—

  —only to be awakened by a trio of large and fearsome animals—one mama, one papa, and one baby.

  Being as brave as she was virtuous, the princess was not one bit scared. Still, she was relieved when the mama spoke up. “Nothing to worry about, dear. Except for the occasional insect, we are vegetarian.”

  And that is the end of Part One. Thank you, thank you, thank you very much. I’ll be here all week.

  Sheesh, did you think she’d ever be quiet?

  Now, where did I leave off?

  Oh yes. Chapter Three.

  How come?

  For once, I guess the furless one is right. We will begin at Chapter Ten. As you’ll remember, the yellow-hair is lounging around in my bed, and Mama Bear is being unnecessarily kind: “Poor little human. Alone all night in the woods. Tell me, dear, did you meet the wolf?”

  “Hush now. Don’t scare her,” Papa said.

  “Go ahead. Scare her,” I said.

  “I met the troll and a tricky spider named Anansi. Does the wolf have a name?” the human asked, rubbing her eyes.”

  “Big Bad Wolf, duh!” I said.

  “Unfortunate name,” said the furless one. “I bet he gets teased all the time at school.”

  “A wolf in school?” I laughed. “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Funny comment from a bear wearing cargo shorts,” she said.

  “Oh yeah? And what’s your name?” I asked.

  “Goldilocks.”

  “And you’re making fun of Big Bad?”

  Mama introduced the family. “I’m Mama, and this is Papa. And our son is named—”

  “Bobby,” I said.

  Mama sighed and looked at me. “If you say so.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Goldilocks, then she pushed back the covers and stretched. “Thanks awfully for the porridge. Have your people send mine a bill for any damage. And now, can you tell me—how do I get to the castle? I’m a princess, and my real parents live there.”

  I’d never heard of any castle, but I wanted the furless one gone. I was the baby—er, that is the Bobby—around here. This cottage was not big enough for both of us.

  I pointed at random. “The castle is that way!”

  “Are you sure you want to go to the castle?” Mama asked.

  “Aha!” Goldilocks said. “So it does exist! The spider tried to trick me about that, too.”

  “Maybe not trick you. Maybe protect you,” Papa said.

  “I recommend you return to the burbs,” Mama said. “Only there is one big, bad problem.”

  At that moment I was feeling pretty confused.

  Oh, come on. You were confused, too. Was there a castle or wasn’t there? Was it possible humans lived in the woods?

  Mama took Papa by the paw. “Excuse us a minute,” she said. “We will be right back.”

  Now that we were alone, Goldilocks looked at me curiously. “I never met talking bears before,” she said.

  “I never met silent bears,” I said. “And I thought all humans wore red coats with hoods.”

  Well, I know that now. Then I poked you with my claw just to see if maybe you actually were a reptile.

  My ears are still ringing.

  And Papa called from the hallway, “What’s going on in there?”

  “Nothing!”

  A moment later, Mama and Papa came back with the announcement that ruined my life.

  “Miss Locks,” said Mama. “We have bad news. There’s a wolf that roams the woods between our cottage and the bridge. This wolf leaves grown bears alone, but smaller creatures he sees as…how to put this delicately—tasty snacks. We’d like you to be our guest till the new moon, the first moonless night. You’ll be safe if you leave then.”

  Goldilocks still didn’t get it. “What about the castle?” she asked.

  “Stay away from the castle!” said Mama and Papa. Then they growled to show they were serious.

  “Oh!” said Goldilocks.

  “Oh!” said I.

  By now Goldilocks was on her feet. “Thanks awfully, but I can’t possibly stay. The humble peasants would worry, and besides, I didn’t bring a toothbrush.”

  Papa Bear shook his head. “I’m afraid we must insist. Big Bad Wolf only roams by moonlight. When it’s dark he stays in and orders Chinese takeout. If you leave before the first moonless night, something bad might happen, and we would feel just awful.”

  “Not that awful,” I said.

  Goldilocks gulped. “In that case, it looks like you’ve got yourself a houseguest.”

  “Where’s she gonna sleep?” I wanted to know. “What’s she gonna wear? She’s not sharing my toothbrush.”

  “Bobby Bear.” My mama spoke sharply. “Didn’t we raise you to be generous?”

  “Generous to bears,” I said. “This is an outrage!”

  “You’ll get over it,” Papa said. “Now, who else is ready for breakfast?”

  You will recall that someone had devoured mine. Mama offered to fix a fresh bowl, but I didn’t really want it. What I wanted was to stomp around and kick things and glare.

  That was a bad, bad morning. And there was worse to come.

  It turned out the new moon was a whole week away—the longest week of my life.

  At night, Goldilocks wore my spare pajamas.

  When it rained, she borrowed my raincoat.

  And talk about a klutz! That broken chair was just the beginning. She was like a tornado with hair.

  The worst part was my parents: Maybe Goldilocks wants more porridge. Maybe Goldilocks would prefer a different bedtime story. Would Goldilocks like an extra blanket?

  Bobby might as well have left the island.

  And guess who had to sleep on the floor? Hint: She never woke up with splinters in her tail.

  To top it off, the human had a bad case of insomnia. Tossing and turning, turning and tossing—it was like sharing a room with a salad.

  Remember that first night? How you woke me up?

  Yeah, like: Are you awake, Bobby?

  And I wasn’t. I mean, ever heard of a little thing called hibernation?

  “What do you want?” I said. “It better be an emergency.”

  “It’s the wolf,” said the human.

  I was up like a shot. “The wolf—where?”

  “About the wolf, I mean. I want to know if he’s really bad.”

  “Did you seriously wake me for that? Of course, the wolf is really bad.”

  “But what if the wolf thinks we’re bad?” Goldilocks asked.

  I
rolled over. “Then the wolf is wrong.”

  “Maybe the wolf is just misguided,” she said.

  “Have it your way,” I said. “But bear in mind—get it?—the wolf does want to eat us.”

  “Where’s the evidence?” Goldilocks said. “Do you know anyone that’s ever been eaten by a wolf?”

  “How would that work? I mean, if they were eaten, I couldn’t know them. At least not anymore.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “No. Okay? No,” I said. “I do not know anyone that’s been eaten by a wolf.”

  “I’m not sure I even think the wolf is real,” said Goldilocks. “I think he’s a story parents made up to keep cubs and children out of the woods.”

  Is it my turn yet?

  To tell the story my way.

  The virtuous, fair-haired princess—

  —had a few more questions: “Since bears talk, does the wolf talk, too?”

  “Of course not,” said Bobby. “The wolf is an animal.”

  “But you talk,” said the princess.

  “Do I have to spell it out for you?” said Bobby. “I am a bear—b-e-a-r. A wolf is a wolf—w-o-l-f. Totally different letters.”

  Unconvinced, the princess pressed on. She wanted to know how come Papa, Mama, and Bobby wore clothes.

  “To cover our bear bodies,” he said.

  “And where do you get your clothes?”

  “At the store. Aren’t there stores where you live in the burbs?”

  “Of course. Malls, too,” said the princess. “Where are your stores? I want to see. Can we go shopping sometime?”

  “How ‘bout if I ask you something for a change,” the bear said. “What would happen if I went with you to the stores in the burbs?”

  “Uh…I guess you could,” the princess said. “But I’d have to put you on a leash. Otherwise people might be scared.”

  “And how would you like to go to the store on a leash?” he asked.

  The princess was wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t!”

  Bobby Bear shrugged. “There’s your answer.”

  “What about school?” she asked. “You wear clothes, so do you go to school?”

  “What’s school?” the bear asked.

  The princess guessed she had asked a dumb question. “So I guess you don’t know how to read?”

  “What’s read?” Bobby asked.

  Now the princess felt bad. Bobby Bear was just a dumb animal, after all. She hoped he wasn’t insulted.

  But before she could either apologize or explain, he laughed. “Hahaha—gotcha! Of course, I know how to read. What do you think I am—barbearic?”

  After a few days in the tidy cottage, the princess began to feel at home.

  “I like it here,” she told Mama Bear. “Everything is just right.”

  Unfortunately, Bobby still wasn’t used to having a houseguest. Basically, he was a selfish little bear—

  —and did not play well with others—

  —until the virtuous, fair-haired princess came into his life. She was, if I do say so myself, a very good influence.

  One morning after breakfast, Bobby and the princess were having one of their occasional mild disagreements—

  —and Bobby said, “We all know how the story goes. You’re supposed to leave.”

  “Don’t worry,” said the princess. “Only a few more days till the new moon, and then I’ll be out of your hair, uh…that is, fur.”

  Things got worse before lunch. Mama Bear was making Bobby’s bed. Papa Bear had gone out gathering. Bobby and the princess were playing Go Fish on the floor—and using real fish.

  “Let me get this straight,” said the princess between turns. “Your mama cooks and cleans. Your papa keeps the bees and gathers. What I don’t get is your job, Bobby. What do you do around here?”

  “I’m the baby,” he said. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

  “But now you call yourself Bobby,” said the princess.

  “Bobby’s my name. Baby’s my job description. So, at your house, what’s your job?”

  “Custodial engineer,” said the princess. “I empty wastebaskets, set the table, sweep my room, fold the laundry—”

  Bobby held up a paw to stop her.

  “When do you have time to be the baby?” he asked.

  “I’m not a baby, Bobby. Would it kill you to make your own bed?”

  Plumping Bobby’s pillow, Mama Bear looked over. “This is the way we bears have always done things.”

  “What if there’s a better way?” the princess asked.

  Mama said, “Hmmm,” as she tucked in a corner. “I’m going to think about that.”

  My turn!

  Is, too!

  Look. Can we make a deal? I take some chapters, then you, then me, then you—

  Right. It works when we play Go Fish. Otherwise all this arguing will be boring for the millions of kids reading this book. I mean, it would be more efficient if we—

  You do?

  Wait—you, Goldilocks, are saying that I, Bobby Bear, actually have a good idea?

  So where were we? Oh, yeah. The next morning. That’s when furless wonder almost went too far. That’s when she dissed the porridge.

  You already know the porridge had issues. But Papa and I would never have complained. Complaining is not the way bears roll.

  The human at the table was different. “Blueberries or no blueberries, porridge gets a little boring after a while,” she said. “Don’t you guys have sugar?”

  “We have honey,” Mama said.

  “Of course!” said Goldilocks. “Could we have honey on our porridge?”

  Mama raised her fur-brows. No bear had ever thought of such a thing. “I suppose we could try,” she said.

  “Not bad,” said Papa after a bite.

  “Pretty good,” said Mama.

  “Meh,” I said. It tasted delicious, but no way would I admit that. You may have noticed Goldilocks is a know-it-all. Say something nice, and she gets unbearable.

  When breakfast was done, Papa suggested that he and I take a walk.

  “Am I going to get a lecture?” I asked.

  “We are going to have a chat,” he said.

  “Why doesn’t Goldilocks get a chat?” I asked.

  “Goldilocks is our guest,” he said.

  “If I hear that one more time—” I said.

  “Look, Bobby,” said Papa Bear, “I know you’re used to being top bear, but think how Goldilocks feels. She’s far from her home, and her mama and papa.”

  “Let her take her chances with the wolf then,” I said. “Have you seen the damage since yesterday? At this rate, you’ll spend my college fund replacing broken dishware.”

  Papa ignored this. “It’s good that everyone’s different,” he said. “Goldilocks has verve, while you are a good and careful little bear.”

  I could not believe what I was hearing from my very own father. “Just call me a wimp, why don’t you? If you like her so much, maybe she should stay, and I should go live in the burbs. At her house, I might be appreciated.”

  “Your mama and I appreciate you,” Papa said. “And we also appreciate Goldilocks.”

  “That’s it,” I announced. “Wolf or not—I’m going.”

  And away I went—straight up the path and into the shadows.

  Hey! It’s still my turn!

  Now, where was I?

  Right!

  But I didn’t get very far.

  I was wondering about my new life in the burbs. Was the furless one’s house full of broken furniture? How was the porridge?

  Then, from deep in the woods, I heard a sad, sad sob. It was enough to break your heart. So, I left the path to investigate. Brambles caught my fur, and briars scratched my skin. Pe
bbles and acorns bruised my paws.

  At last I came to a clearing, and there he was.

  The king of beasts himself! The lion!

  I’m not!

  He was curled up like a kitten, head resting miserably on the ground, tears dampening his whiskers.

  “What’s the matter, your majesty?” I asked. “May I be of assistance?”

  “No one can help me,” he whimpered and showed me his paw. Embedded in it was a thorn.