Goldilocks Revisited

This penultimate piece in the Post-A-Day May marathon once more owes its inspiration to correspondent Melanie. She writes:

It always bothered me that the bears are upset about their house being in disarray, and are then magically ok with it when they see how cute Goldilocks is. I mean, you could argue that they weren't okay with it since she runs away, but they're *bears.* I'm pretty sure they could catch her if they so desired. 

Very well. Now, allow me to ruin the innocence of someone who was just trying to Google a simple fairy tale...

***

Goldilocks and the Three Bears

When she approached the house on the hill, Goldilocks hoped it was made of sugar and cake. But a preliminary nibble of the porch step proved most disappointing. "That Hansel was just telling tales again," she muttered.

Perhaps, though, there was a kind lady inside who liked to give candy to pretty little girls. Goldilocks perked up and knocked.

No answer. With a flagrant disregard for the Napoleonic Code, Goldilocks turned the knob and pushed. The door gave.

"Hello?" she called out sweetly. "Kind lady? Good witch of the north? Tooth fairy?"

Again, no answer. Goldilocks felt compelled to pout. But the sudden smell of fresh porridge wafting from a nearby room restored her equilibrium. Her spirits rose and she followed the promising aroma, which led her to a cozy kitchen.

Three bowls of unfinished porridge sat on the table. With curious disregard for normal human behavior, Goldilocks grabbed a spoon and dug into the biggest bowl. "Ouch ouch ouch," she cried, spitting out most of her mouthful. "Too hot too hot too hot!" She danced around, sticking out her tongue and wringing her hands til she was able to speak not in threes.

With a strange indifference to precedent, Goldilocks reached into the middle bowl and brought the spoon to her healed tongue. But this time, it was freezing. She spit it out — most landed back in the bowl, some on the walls.

Goldilocks would not be daunted. With determination she took a great gulp of porridge from the tiniest bowl, and she was filled with unspeakable joy when the temperature suited her perfectly. "Yay!" she declared before devouring the entire bowl with a highly questionable disregard for the eighth commandment, and normalness.

After her meal, Goldilocks felt very sleepy. After a series of experiments she found a chair that was just right, but decided after a decent sit that a nap would best be accommodated by a bed. She hiked up the stairs and happened upon two bedrooms.

The master bedroom, most strangely, had two beds. Being innocent, Goldilocks was not threatened by this display of marital eccentricity. She flounced down on the larger bed and nearly cracked her spine. "Too hard! Ick!" She flounced onto the other and almost suffocated. "Too soft!" she cried, though the complaint was muffled by encroaching blanketry.

She crept into the other bedroom, where a child-sized bed practically invited her to curl up in it. Another yay, and Goldilocks was carried off to dreamland. 

***

"WTF, who ate all my fucking porridge?"

"I told you we should have waited til after breakfast to observe the solar eclipse."

"Oh no someone did NOT spit up in my porridge!" 

Baby Bear, no longer a baby but a growing youth with a hearty appetite, was not impressed. Papa Bear shook his head in somber resignation. Mama Bear could hardly contain her disgust. 

"Who left the door unlocked?" she demanded to know.

"Dad," said Baby Bear, at the same moment his father said, "B.B."

"Did something eclipse your brains? I should throw this porridge at you!"

Angry and confused, the family moved into the living room, where Papa Bear was first to bellow, "Someone's been sitting in my chair!"

"Uh, how can you tell?" Baby Bear was even more confused. 

Mama tested hers out and gasped with fury. "And in my chair, too!"

"Seriously, how can you tell?" Baby Bear remained skeptical until he plopped into his own, whereupon the nauseating sense of chair-violation overwhelmed him. 

"Son of a bitch!"

The bears knew not what to make of it. They investigated the china cabinets and silver drawer, but no valuables had been pilfered. 

"Dude, I bet it's that crazy lady with all the cats who lives in the junkyard," posited Baby. "Just looking for a hot meal."

"There's no cat hair on the furniture," Papa reminded him.

Perplexed, upset and anxious, the trio moved cautiously upstairs to see if Mama Bear's jewelry had been taken. But when they got to the master bedroom, they noticed something far more heinous than stolen jewels. 

"Someone's been sleeping in our beds!" Papa Bear was livid, Mama Bear gagged with revulsion at the sight of the rumpled duvet.

"Yeah, uh, why do you guys have separate beds again?"

"When you're older, junior," Mama snapped.

Their rage near to the breaking point, they proceeded to Baby Bear's room, wondering what new horror awaited them.

And there, curled up under Baby Bear's blankets, slept a pretty golden-haired little girl.

"Bitchplease!"

Baby Bear's outraged cry roused the little girl from her nap. When she woke, and found three upright fully-clothed bears glaring down at her, Goldilocks shrieked with fright.

"Stop that racket!" Mama Bear commanded.

"You are in my bed. My bed! Who does that?!"

Poor little Goldilocks could only stammer and shake.

"What's your name, girl."

"G-Goldilocks," she managed, seeming curiously unfazed by the bears' ability to talk.

"No way," Baby bear interjected.

She nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Like, that was the name you got when you were a baby?"

Another nod.

"How could you be named that before you had hair?"

A mystery.

"So you're the one who's been ruining our porridge and sitting in our chairs and using our bedding as your personal playground?"

"Please don't eat me!" Goldilocks begged.

"Eat you? What are we, polar bears?"

"Well, she did eat all our breakfast," grumbled Baby.

"I'm sorry," she pleaded. "It was just, everything smelled so good, and then I was so sleepy, I didn't mean any harm!"

"Weak."

"Why would you come into a house without asking?"

"Didn't anyone teach you manners?"

"Or the law?"

"And will you get out of my bed already?"

Goldilocks scrambled out of Baby Bear's bed. In terror, she tried desperately to flee, but Papa Bear caught her and held her firmly.

"Listen, blondicues or whatever your name is, I want to see to it that no other family goes through what we experienced today," Mama announced.

Baby Bear shuddered.

"It looks like we'll need to teach you a memorable lesson." Keeping a tight grip on Goldilocks, Papa Bear led the family down to the living room.

"Baby Bear, fetch Papa Bear's belt."

"Aw, man, why didn't you tell me that when we were upstairs?"

"You want a taste of it yourself?"

Baby Bear did as he was told.

Goldilocks was confused, because she was wearing a dress and didn't require a belt, and neither did Mama Bear, who also had on a dress, and both Papa and Baby seemed to be doing fine in the pants-holding-up department. Puzzling indeed.

Baby Bear returned with the belt, held it out to his father and gave Goldilocks a satisfied smirk. 

Papa Bear took his place in the too-hard chair and pulled Goldilocks across his lap.

"Don't eeeeat me!" the wretched child wailed.

"I won't," Papa Bear promised, and doubled over his belt to deliver a sound whipping to the little trespasser. 

Goldilocks' wails quickly turned nonverbal. She had read fairytales about the cruelty of bears, but the nightmarish reality was only now becoming clear. Mama Bear looked on with approval, occasionally interrupting to remind Goldilocks that regurgitating strangers' breakfasts was Not Acceptable. After what seemed like an eternity of hearty lashing, Baby Bear spoke up. 

"Yo, think you might be going a little too hard?"

"She deserves it," Papa stated.

"No, he's right, I ought to have a go," said Mama Bear. Papa dealt a few more searing strokes and relented. Mama marched to the kitchen and came back wielding a wooden spoon. She sank into the too-soft chair and turned Goldilocks over her knee. 

Goldilocks buried her tear-stained face into the welcoming cushions as the business end of the spoon pelted her backside again and again. She had thoroughly forgotten her fear of the bears' claws and fangs; there was nothing more terrifying under the partially-eclipsed sun than that piece of kitchenware.

"Have you heard of 'knocking', little girl? Trespassing? Acting normal and not like you got dropped on your little blonde head one too many times?" Mama Bear whacked away, clearly still appalled. 

"I think you're going too soft on her," Papa Bear remarked.

"Like hell," Mama returned, without a break in the spanking.

"Yeah, I think you might be," said Baby Bear. "I probably ought to have a turn, you know. Seeing as it was MY porridge she consumed."

Baby Bear still hadn't quite recovered from the porridge incident.

The sobbing child was shifted to the just-right chair, where the youngest bear's lap was waiting to receive her. Baby Dear didn't bother with implements. He spanked the sorry intruder with his paw, and quite a firm spanking it was.

You might say it was just right.

***

...Here I thought I might write some sort of epilogue, but as I'm racing against the clock here I'll leave that task to the commenters.