Did you miss part one? Tap here to read it. There’s a link back to this post at the end.
When we left Goldilocks, she had just decided to enter the house. It was fun for me to imagine what she would be thinking and feeling.
Without further ado, here’s the second part of my snarky retelling of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.
Goldilocks crept into the dark house. A fire flickered in the fireplace to her left, and she could see the kitchen just beyond a small dining room. She walked through the dim rooms and into the sunny kitchen, made more bright by the yellow and white decorations. If she’d been more aware of history, she may have noticed that it had a nineteen fifties vibe with vintage appliances.
The kitchen table had been set for three, and at each place a bowl of soup sat. She first went to the one with steam still rising from it. She grabbed the spoon and dug in, then dropped it when the liquid burned her tongue.
“Ow! Too hot.” She stuck her tongue out to cool it. If her father had let her stay up and watch grownup shows on CBS, she would’ve figured out that there was no way the soup should’ve been that hot for the amount of time it had been sitting there.
But since little girls don’t have a great grasp on forensics or physics, she went to the second seat and tried that bowl. The spoon slid into the liquid, which had a layer of fat congealing on the top.
“Bleh, too cold.”
The third bowl was smaller, and the spoon had a plastic handle like that used for babies. But the temperature was perfect, and she quickly finished the chicken broth and noodles.
Then she yawned and decided to find a place to nap. However, a commotion outside chased away any fatigue, and she hid under the dining room tablecloth, which reached to the floor.
A male voice growled, “Who’s been sitting in my chair? It took me forever to arrange the stupid stones so they wouldn’t bother my hemorrhoids.”
Goldilocks trembled at the anger that made the floor boards vibrate.
“Who disturbed my pillows?” Came a female voice. She sounded tired like Mommy after a long day of working and cooking and cleaning. And there was something else, something familiar…
“Who sat in my chair? There’s still a butt print on the cushion.” This voice sounded younger, and Goldilocks risked a peek, but the owners of the voices were still outside.
The front door slammed open, and someone took a long inhale. “Something smells off.”
“It’s probably nothing. Let’s have our soup.”
The footsteps that walked by the dining room table sounded too numerous and heavy to be just three people, one a child, but Goldilocks put her hands over her ears and squinted her eyes shut.
That angry growling voice again said, “Someone’s been eating my soup.”
“And mine!”
“And they ate mine all up.” The small voice started crying, and Goldilocks felt a little guilty. She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone.
“We’ll get you some more, B.B.”
The male voice spoke again. “The varmint is still in the house. Let’s find it.”
A large nose edged under the tablecloth, followed by a massive round head covered in dark fur. Small ears. Black eyes that looked straight at her with an intelligence that she’d never seen in a dog, not even the ones that looked like little bears.
A bear! The pieces fell into place, although they still didn’t make sense. These people had a pet bear? What sort of strange place was this?
If Goldilocks hadn’t been dehydrated from her long frolic, she would’ve wet her little ruffled undies. As it was, all she could do was open her mouth to scream, but it was like in her bad dreams when Mommy and Daddy fought — no sound came out past a little squeak.
What did come out was a stream of acid and noodles as she projectile vomited soup all over the creature’s face.
“My eyes!” It roared and reared up, sending the table flying.
In a flash, Goldilocks stood and ran… Right into a fuzzy belly. Large hands with leathery pads held her, and she looked up into another bear’s face. In this case, it regarded her quizzically.
“What do we have here?” This was the female’s voice. The bear’s mouth moved like it made the sounds, but Goldilocks’ brain couldn’t process.
“It’s a demon, a demon! It spits acid!”
“No, Howard, it’s a scared little girl.”
“Let me see!” A bear cub peeked around the corner from the kitchen. “Can we keep it?”
“No, BB,” the mama bear said in an indulgent tone that sounded like Goldilocks’ mom whenever Goldilocks asked for a new toy. “You can’t keep everything that wanders in from the woods.”
Goldilocks looked back and forth. “Holy crap, talking bears!” Then everything went black.
Tap or click here for the conclusion and why I’m doing this snarky retelling. I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far!
If you have, please like it and comment, and even better, restack it so others will find my writing. We all need more fun fantasy stories in our chaotic lives.