Tag Archives: Goldilocks

Three In A Bed

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They’d had no choice, really.

Ever since Goldilocks had broken Baby Bear’s bed they’d all had to sleep together.

They had, of course, had three beds, with Daddy Bear’s and Mummy Bear’s being the other two. But since news of Goldilock’s arrest (yes, arrest, she’d basically been breaking and entering) had broken on the BBC, on Sky and, rather bizarrely, on Al Jazeera, the Bears had had to reconsider their bedroom furniture arrangements.

Reporters were at their door, asking could they not afford a matching set of chairs, asking what sort of mother serves porridge at three different temperatures, and asking questions about the state of their marriage.

Some of the tabloids were asking how Baby Bear had been conceived in the first place.

So the Bears had gone to Ikea and bought a double bed. They had also bought a 22-shelf bookcase, a lamp in the shape of Sherlock Holmes’s hat and a fondue set, because it’s impossible to go to Ikea and just buy one thing.

They had issued a statement that the separate beds had been a temporary arrangement while Daddy Bear had recovered from whooping cough (“No sex please, we’re feverish”, one tabloid headline had read), and that the Bears would now once again be sleeping together. Furthermore, Baby Bear would be sleeping with them, since he was still traumatised after finding a human in his bed. Picture finding a bear in yours and you will understand how he felt.

They hoped that would settle the matter, but it didn’t. “Bears in Three-in-a-Bed romp!” the tabloids had crowed. Fame has a price.

But if it has a price it also has a salary. The Bears appeared in an TV ad campaign for Odearest mattresses (“so comfy, you’ll sleep all winter”). They sold their now famous single beds on Ebay for thirty thousand euro. And they were paid a huge sum of money to give Hello! an exclusive photo-shoot (“Mr and Mrs Bear show us their fabulous new double-bed and, er, fondue set”).

They moved from their isolated cottage to a luxury suburban bungalow with a snooker-room (they’d seen that print of dogs playing pool, so reckoned it couldn’t be that hard), an outdoor Jacuzzi and a very, very good security system.

The whole experience brought them closer as a family, and a shared indignation at the intrusion into their private lives had brought Mr and Mrs Bear closer as a couple. The real reason for the separate beds, Mummy Bear’s four-year affair with Paddington Bear, had not been forgotten, but as time passed it came to matter less and less.

(PS. The title is not an attempt to attract more readers, but was the prompt at our Writers’ Group yesterday).

A Week Of WordPress, Day 1

I have decided that for the next seven days I am going to use WordPress’s daily writing prompt, no matter how daft it is. Yesterday’s (we’re in Ireland, they come out during our evening) was to “write a piece of fiction describing the incident that gave rise to the phrase, “third time’s the charm”.”….

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“I don’t know what you were thinking,” said Goldilocks’s mother.

“Sorry,” said Goldilocks, in the sullen, sulky way in which teenagers demonstrate that they’re not in fact sorry at all.

“You sat in their chairs,” said Goldilocks’s mum –

“Yeah, I wanted to ask about that,” said Goldilocks. “How did they know that I sat in their chairs? It’s not like I left an impression of my bum, the chairs were wooden. Also, how was Mummy Bear’s chair smaller than Baby Bear’s? Does she sit in the yoga position when she’s watching telly?”

“Never mind that,” said Goldilock’s mum. “You then tried all of their porridge.”

“Yeah, well I was hungry,” said Goldilocks.

“Because you didn’t eat your breakfast before you left the house,” said Goldilocks’s mum, “which was porridge. You turned it down, as you do every morning, on the grounds that, in your words, it’s 74% greyness and 26% lumps.”

In the case of the porridge produced by Goldilocks’s mum, this analysis was forensically true. Goldilocks decided that it was best not to say that.

“And finally,” said Goldilocks’s mum, “you tried out all of their beds.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that too,” said Goldilocks. “How come Mummy and Daddy Bear have separate beds. And, since they do, where did Baby Bear come from?”

“Er, um,” said Goldilock’s mum, who found this question far more interesting than she was prepared to let on. “Perhaps the stork brought him.”

Goldilocks gave her a withering look.

“Mum, I’m fourteen,” she said, “so I’m not going to fall for that.”

“No?”

“No. There’s no way that a stork could carry a bear, it’d be like an ape in the jungle being suddenly carried off by a parrot.”

“The point, young lady, is that you’re grounded. No going out for two weeks.”

“Oh mum,” said Goldilocks. “That punishment is too hard. How about two days?”

“Too soft,” said Goldilocks’s mum. “A week.”

“That sounds just right,” conceded Goldilocks.

“Now go to your room,” said Goldilocks’s mum.

Goldilocks went to her room and threw herself onto her bed. She has been portrayed throughout history as an innocent if slightly naïve young lady, which just shows that if you’re blonde and cute you can get away with anything. The basic fact is that she broke into a house, where she tried out stuff that wasn’t hers. In other words, she was a burglar.

And now, as she lay on her bed, she recalled how she had gone through the Bears’ jewellery. The first thing that she’d looked at, a huge medallion that Daddy Bear obviously wore to discos with an open-necked shirt to show off his hairy chest (and rightly so, in his case) was too garish. The second thing, a ring which, by the look of it, Mummy Bear wore in some piercing somewhere, was too icky. The third, a bracelet with little trinkets, which she now held it clenched tightly in her fist, was just right.

The third one was a charm.

Mum Knows Best

The prompt at this week’s Inkslingers Workshop in the Irish Writers Centre was “advice”…
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She sighed. She hated it when Mum has these “little chats” with her. Usually it was to do with the state of her room, or playing music too loud, or how she should be nicer to her little brother. Today, though, after the day that she’d had, would be different.

“I’d just like to offer some advice,” said Goldilocks’s Mum. “Firstly, never walk through the woods alone.”

“Little Red Riding Hood walks through the woods on her own,” said Goldilocks sulkily.

“I see,” said Goldilocks’s Mum. “And if Red Riding Hood stuck her hand into the fire would you do it too?”

“Why would she stick her hand into the fire?” asked Goldilocks.

Her Mum was secretly horrified at herself. She had sworn to herself that she would never pose this ludicrous question to her own children. The fact that she had done so proved that she was turning into her mother, and since this is a fairy-tale that might not just be a turn of phrase.

“Secondly,” she went on hurriedly, “what you call ’going into a cottage because there was no-one there’ is what the police call ’breaking and entering’.

“Thirdly, if you do find yourself in a cottage where one of the chairs is too large, the chances are that that is because someone or something very big lives there. This is rarely a good thing. The Scream movies should have taught you that.

“Fifthly -”

“Fourthly,” said Goldilocks.

“Fourthly, then,” said her Mum, “three bowls of porridge sitting on a table, two of them still at least partly hot, is a fairly big hint that the residents have not gone far. It is not a good idea, therefore, to eat one of the bowls, after presumably having spat the mouthfuls you didn’t like back into the other two. The residents whose return is so obviously imminent are unlikely to be pleased.

“Sixth, er, fifth, er, whateverly, if you have actually done all of the above then Housebreaking for Dummies, and you can be pretty sure that such a book exists, would probably advise a getaway at this point. It is unlikely to suggest going upstairs for a snooze.”

“I’m grounded, aren’t I?” said Goldilocks.

“You are indeed,” said her Mum. “You can go to your room, and just be thankful that Mr and Mrs Bear were so good about the whole thing. And leave your mobile here, I don’t want you to spend the whole time texting your friends, you can tidy your room.”

Goldilocks gave that deep sigh that only young girls can give when dealing with their mother, slammed her mobile onto the kitchen table and stomped upstairs to her room. Once there she started to text her friends.

One of the mobile phones in the cottage had been too big, one had been too small, but the one that she had now was just right.