Goldilocks, Go Home! Read online

  “Owie,” I said.

  “Guess I’ll just lie here and die,” said the lion.

  “Hang on a sec,” I said. “I know just the guy we need.”

  Off I went and soon returned. “King of Beasts, meet Mouse. Mouse, meet the king of beasts.”

  The lion’s reply was a pitiful moan. “No animal so lowly can help a majestic creature such as myself.”

  “Three words, your majesty: tiny rodent incisors.”

  The mouse moved fast. I mean, wouldn’t you? And before the lion could argue further, the operation was complete, the thorn removed.

  “Feeling better?” I asked.

  The lion inspected his paw. “Much better—and hungry, too. Mice are talented surgeons and delicious appetizers. Now where did your little friend get to?”

  “Wait, what?” I scooped up Mouse to protect him. “You can’t eat him, your majesty. He did you a big favor!”

  The lion chuckled. “A little royal humor is all. I am grateful for your assistance, Mouse, and for yours as well, Bobby Bear. Mark my words: I won’t forget this.”

  Stay tuned. Meanwhile, helping the king had pretty much used up my energy for running away to the burbs. Not to mention, I hadn’t packed a lunch. I returned to the path, and guess who was standing there?

  No, not Papa Bear. It was you! Don’t you remember?

  Bingo. You said I should be grateful for the whole honey-on-porridge thing. I said, What about cavities? What about empty calories? What about packing on pounds?

  And I said, Are you calling me overweight?

  And so on.

  Got that right. And I felt something more: determination. Same as the mouse removed the thorn, I vowed to remove her.

  Bobby Bear tried everything to get rid of the virtuous, fair-haired princess.

  He put pepper on her porridge, but she called it a delightful twist on an old favorite.

  He dropped one of Anansi’s eight-legged cousins in her underwear drawer.

  He put a rubber snake in her bed.

  Meanwhile, Bobby’s dad kept right on with the whole peace-love-and-harmony bit. “Here’s an idea,” he said at dinner. “Let’s think about all the things that bears and humans have in common.”

  “Good thinking,” said Mama. “I’ll start. Humans and bears both eat blueberries and porridge.”

  “Indeed, we do,” Papa said. “And don’t we all enjoy a tasty grub now and then?”

  The princess’s stomach lurched. “Ewww! No! What even is a grub anyway?”

  “Hahaha—what a kidder, Goldilocks,” Papa said. “Everyone knows that grubs are like worms, only juicier and not so skinny.”

  “Mmmm,” Mama said, rubbing her tummy. “I wish I had a dozen right now!”

  The princess pushed away her plate.

  “What’s the problem?” Bobby wanted to know.

  “The problem is that’s disgusting!” she said.

  Mama Bear tried to change the subject. “So, tell us something special that you like to eat.”

  “Lots of things,” she said. “Like, uh…bacon. I really like bacon.”

  “Never heard of it,” Bobby said.

  The princess could not believe this. “You know—salty and crisp and comes in strips? Made from pig meat?”

  Bobby and Papa shuddered. “Ewww!”

  Mama said, “Perhaps you didn’t know that the three pigs are our neighbors. Nice guys with their own houses and a show on HoGTV. Personally, I don’t see why bachelors need all that square footage, but I guess a pig’s home is his castle.”

  Did somebody say “castle”?

  “Speaking of which,” the princess said, “I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about letting me go look for the one in the woods? I’m still hoping to find my real—”

  “No!” Papa said.

  “The subject is closed,” Mama said.

  Are you wondering what my brainstorm was?

  Fine. Be that way. I’m still going to tell yu.

  My brainstorm was this: What if I gave Goldilocks what she wanted—took her to the castle? When we got there, her real parents, the king and queen, would claim her, and she’d be gone from my life forever.

  Not exactly the way I expected.

  As anyone who’s read this far knows, I am a good and careful little bear.

  In fact, up till that morning, I had never once lied to my mama and papa.

  But after a few days of life with the furless one, I was a changed cub. Desperate. An outlaw. Bobby “Bad Boy” Bear.

  Which is why the next morning (Porridge: Day 39), I wasted no time putting my plan into action.

  “Good morning, Mama. Good morning, Papa,” I said politely as usual. “After breakfast, Goldilocks and I are going out to, uh…fetch a pail of water.”

  Papa gave me a funny look. “You do know we have indoor plumbing, right?”

  “Don’t discourage him,” said Mama. “Up till now, he’s never offered to lift a paw around here. Bobby, are you feeling okay?”

  “I feel fine!” I said. “It’s only a pail of water. It’s not like I volunteered to scrub the toilet.”

  “Good idea!” said Goldilocks. “How about adding ‘toilet’ to your chore list for when we come back?”

  I started to say, “Add it to yours!”—but then I remembered.

  Goldilocks would not be coming back.

  Cue the thunder, lightning, and rain.

  Poetic license, okay?

  Only who could hear the birdsong?

  Goldilocks never stopped talking: “That’s just great you volunteered to help out. I guess I’ve been a good influence, right? Hey—where’s the pail? Don’t we need it to fetch water? I hope the wolf is sleeping in. Am I ever glad to get out of that cottage!”

  The yakking kept on, but I wasn’t listening. I was thinking. How far was the castle?

  Goldilocks was dishing about a stuck-up friend of hers—Snow Something—when we reached a fork in the path.

  “Which way?” Goldilocks asked.

  This was a very good question.

  So what happened next was Bobby stood there blinking for like maybe an hour.

  And the princess should have been suspicious, right? The guy had lived his whole life in the woods. Now he couldn’t even find the pond?

  Finally, Bobby said, “We’re going this way because, uh…I have a surprise for you.”

  “Awesome!” the princess said. “What is it? Ice cream? Chocolate? I could really use some chocolate. Oh boy, I hope it isn’t grubs.”

  “Better than grubs,” he said. “I am taking you to the castle.”

  Now it was the princess’s turn to blink. “Oh, Bobby Bear!” she said and threw her arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you….”

  Oh, yeah? Well, I’m lucky I didn’t get fleas!

  Clean fleas are still fleas, you know.

  Anyway, like I said, we were walking on the path, and Bobby explained, “We’ll take Coyote with us. He’s a clown, but he knows the woods. Also, since the wolf is Coyote’s cousin, Coyote’s not on his menu.”

  Coyote lives in a snug den between the briar patch and the pond.

  When Bobby and the princess got to his door, Bobby hollered, “Knock knock!” and soon Coyote appeared.

  “You know that’s my line, right?” Coyote said.

  “Pardon me, Coyote, but we don’t have time for jokes,” Bobby said.

  “Story of my life. Who’s the blonde?”

  Bobby introduced the princess and explained that they needed help. When he mentioned the castle, Coyote turned pale—or as pale as a guy with a fur face can turn.

  “You don’t want to go there,” he said.

  “We don’t?” Bobby said.

  “We do,” the princess said.

 
“Why don’t we?” Bobby asked.

  The princess glared at him. “I guess your mama and papa were right all along,” she said. “I guess you are a good and careful little bear.”

  “What’s wrong with good and careful?” Coyote asked.

  “He’s a wimp,” the princess said.

  “Nice talk,” Coyote said. “Didn’t your parents teach you manners?”

  “My real parents are the king and queen,” the princess said. “We are going to the castle to meet them.”

  “I never heard of any king,” Coyote said, “but I can see how the queen might have been the one to teach you manners.”

  “Meaning just what exactly?” the princess asked.

  “You’ll find out soon,” Coyote said. “The castle’s not far. I’ll show you the way, but when we get to the moat, I’m out. If you choose to go on, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “But you didn’t warn us,” Bobby said.

  “Hahaha—pretty funny for a cub,” Coyote said. “Keep in mind, it’s me that makes the jokes around here.”

  Don’t tell Furless, but I started having second thoughts the moment we set out.

  At first Coyote told blonde jokes—

  —and after that he got quiet. Too quiet.

  Hadn’t Mama and Papa warned us to stay away from the castle? And why had they kept it a secret all this time?

  Still, I couldn’t let Goldilocks think I was a wimp. I had to be brave.

  We followed Coyote up the hill and down the dale, and then the fog rolled in.

  You bet!

  I had never visited this part of the woods, and I don’t mind telling you it was spooky and bone-chilling. I was beginning to wish I had my winter coat when Goldilocks stopped in her tracks.

  “OMG! There really is a castle!” Above the fog loomed spiky black towers and turrets.

  I was flabbergasted. “Wait a sec—up till now you didn’t believe the castle was real?”

  “I wasn’t sure,” she admitted. “I thought maybe I made the whole thing up because I was mad at my mom, uh…that is, the humble peasant woman.”

  “Mad why?” I asked. “What was that quarrel about anyway?”

  Before Goldilocks could answer, Coyote spun to face us and yipped. “Moat’s straight ahead. Nice knowing you. Good luck—you’ll need it!”

  “What’s up with him?” Goldilocks asked when Coyote had fled.

  “I guess we’re gonna find out,” I said. “Hey—did you just see a shadow?”

  We looked up. Vultures were circling.

  I gulped. “It could be worse. It could be flying monkeys.”

  Hey! My turn! A few steps later, bigger and bulgier shapes flew over.

  Goldilocks kept her eyes on the path. “I don’t even want to know.”

  “In that case, I won’t tell you. Come on, let’s knock at the drawbridge. It can’t be any scarier inside than it is out here.”

  Hahaha! I can’t believe you actually said that. Talk about being totally wrong.

  Only what?

  Yeah, well. There’s that.

  Okay, okay. First things first. It wasn’t what, it was who. And they heard her before they saw her.

  “Welcome children!” said a voice at the same time the drawbridge groaned and dropped open. “Won’t you please come in?”

  Bobby and the princess crossed the bridge and found themselves in a wide stone hall lit only by stubby candles. I don’t mind telling you the princess’s heart was pounding, and she grabbed Bobby’s paw.

  “Uh—hello-o-o?” the princess called.

  “Olly olly oxen free?” Bobby tried.

  “Greetings, children,” said the voice, which was deep and throaty.

  His was deep and gravelly.

  The voice had come out of nowhere, but then an orb appeared, bright and indistinct, at the far end of the hall. Think a cross between Glinda’s transport contraption and the beamer machine on Star Trek.

  “Technically, I’m a cub,” Bobby replied. “Not that we absolutely need to be technical.”

  “So sorry,” said the voice. “Greetings, child and cub. Welcome to my humble abode.”

  Scared as she was, the princess couldn’t help it, she snorted. “Hahaha! Humble? This place is huge! You could have the U.S. Army for a slumber party, and there’d be room to spare.”

  “It is spacious,” said the voice. “But it’s a burden as well. You just can’t get good help these days. Sometimes I’m so desperate I’m tempted to pick up a mop myself.”

  “You should totally have servants,” Bobby said. “Weren’t those flying monkeys outside? Give them a pay raise, and they’ll help.”

  Naturally, the princess disagreed.

  And she said so.

  “It’s only fair you should help clean if you live here. Many hands make light work—that’s what the humble peasant woman says.”

  “Which humble peasant woman is that?” the voice asked.

  “The one who was raising me instead of my real parents.”

  “And who are your real parents?” the voice asked.

  The princess took a breath and squeezed Bobby’s paw.

  “That’s what we’re here to find out.”

  Picture the three of us poised in suspense. On one side, the glowing orb. On the other, the furless yellow-hair and the adorable cub.

  Then, as we watched, the orb transformed itself into a human silhouette that gradually took on depth and color.

  Within moments, Goldilocks and I were facing a woman wearing a gleaming crown, a jewel-bedecked gown, and pointy high heels.

  “Come closer, child and cub,” said the woman.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I ambled toward her. “I mean, that is…your highness.”

  If you want to know the truth, I was hungry. How about second breakfast in the banquet hall? I didn’t know what queens ate exactly, but it was probably better than porridge.

  Besides, a snack break would put off me having to face Mama and Papa. They wouldn’t be happy that I’d been gone so long or that I’d come back alone.

  Thinking Goldilocks was right behind me, I approached the queen. But then I felt a sharp tug in the region of my stumpy tail.

  “Ow!” I squealed and looked back to see the yellow-hair wide-eyed and gripping a handful of my fur. “What gives?” I asked. “That’s gotta be her—your real mother!””

  Goldilocks was pale and staring. “Sorry, your highness,” she said. “Case of mistaken identity. My bad. Come on, Bobby—we gotta go!”

  “Without a snack—are you kidding?”

  Before I could say more, Goldilocks was halfway back to the drawbridge. Being Goldilocks, she had knocked over TWO chairs, a coat rack, and a lamp on her way.

  Dodging wreckage, I followed. I thought we were safely outta there until—bang! the drawbridge slammed shut! We were trapped!

  Behind us, I heard cackling—

  —and I don’t mind telling you, I was scared.

  But then I had a good thought: Sure, I’m only a cub. But I’m also a wild animal. And a wild animal ought to be able to vanquish an elderly human!

  Wait one sec. Where did she come from?

  Well, cameo disappear!

  I got right up in the queen’s face. “Open the drawbridge,” I said, “and let us out right now!”

  Not exactly.

  Instead, she said, “Oh, please,” and rolled her eyes. “You are looking at a charter member of Wicked Queens International.”

  “I knew it!” Goldilocks said. “You’re not my real mother at all.”

  “And I was doing so well faking nicey-nice. What gave me away?” she asked.

  “Yeah, what?” I asked Goldilocks. “She looks like any other queen to me—not that I exactly hang with royalty.”

  “Too m
uch eye makeup—duh,” said Goldilocks. “Haven’t you ever seen a Disney movie? The good queens go light on the liner.”

  The furless one was right about the makeup. When the pulsating blob turned female, she sprouted lashes an inch long and dual blue-shadow stripes.

  I was feeling clueless when Goldilocks cried out: “Be careful, Bobby! There’s something in her hand!”

  A dagger? A wand? A fazer?

  None of the above!

  “It’s the drawbridge clicker!” said Goldilocks. “Grab it, Bobby Bear!”

  “You grab it,” I said.

  “You’re the one with claws,” said Goldilocks.

  “Good point,” I said.

  And after that, I wasted no time and batted the clicker away from the queen, caught it, closed my eyes, and squeezed.