It was a dark and stormy night.

It's always a dark and stormy night. But the gloom of this chill night would sap the soul out of even the most hardy of travellers. The drops of rain slashed out of the sky like sharp icicles, penetrating overcoats, and petticoats alike, soaking Goldilocks to her skin. A steady stream poured off of her riding hood, which had ceased to protect her from the cold some time ago. Her shivering hands looked like pink raisins, and she thought that one good swat would shatter her numb fingers like the lightening that frequently streaked across the sky would shatter any unfortunate tree branch which happened to be in its way.

She thought about the circumstances which led her to this point and she laughed quietly. It was either laugh, or go insane, she mused. The circumstances were unimportant, she decided. The only thing that was important now was finding some sort of shelter, before she collapsed from exposure. Worse, she might run into a big bad wolf. Although, she thought sullenly, even the wolves had sense enough to stay out of this weather. She was in the woods, and she decided that a cabin or a house was too much to hope for, so she kept her eyes opened for a cave, or a thicket which might offer some sort of cover, and get her out of the rain. Unlikely she would find some dry wood with which to make a fire, but one thing at a time, she thought to herself. One thing at a time.

The night wore on as she staggered forward, alertness dwindling with the feeling in her toes. Pretty soon, she thought, she would cease caring, and just lay where she fell. Suddenly, impossibly she thought that she saw light on the fringes of her vision. She looked to her left, and instead of disappearing, as she expected, the light remained. Where there is light, she concluded, there must be warmth. And she moved in the direction of the light.

She got closer, and the light grew. Perhaps, she thought, it was a campfire, where she could warm her tired bones, and perhaps get a bite to eat from some good natured hunters, or squatters. What she did not expect, as she drew closer to the light, was a small house situated in the middle of the woods. She approached the house, wondering what sort of hermit would set up residence in this dreary forest. It mattered little who would live here, the simple fact of the matter is that here was a house that appeared warm, and more importantly would keep the rain off her back, if only for a little while. She entered the yard as the first rays of sunshine crept over the distant horizon as the rain continued to fall. She wearily tapped on the door.

No answer.

She knocked again, this time, a bit louder. Again, there was no answer. She tried the doorknob, and discovered that the door was unlocked. Of course it would be unlocked. There probably has not been a visitor to this place since it was built. She slowly pushed the door open.

The door quietly creaked as it swung open, and Goldilocks dimly noted that the door would creak louder if no one lived here. Perhaps they were still asleep, or perhaps they had ventured out into the wet morning in search of breakfast. She crept inside, and closed the door. The house was warm enough. She peeled off her overcoat, and hung it on a hook that was near the door. There were three pegs on the hook, labelled "Poppa", "Momma" and "Baby". So, it was family that lived here. Not a hermit, or a mad bomber. She left her coat on the small baby peg, and wondered if she should remove the blouse that was clinging wetly to her skin. Perhaps until she had investigated the situation a bit further she would leave it on. She walked deeper into the house.

She rounded the first corner, and discovered the source of heat in the house. It was an old stove flush against the near wall of what appeared to be some sort of kitchen or dining area. There was a small wooden table located in the middle of the floor, and three small wooden chairs situated around the table. Upon the table were three old china dishes filled with some sort of viscous substance which may or may not be food. The dishes appeared to be in bad shape. There were cracks and chips and other signs of age. Very old china indeed. The table was poorly constructed. If she didn't know better she would have guessed that some sort of creature lacking opposable thumbs had put it together.

She moved closer to the shoddy table, and noticed the smell of the substance in the dishes. It was some sort of pudding or porridge, she grabbed the spoon by the dish nearest to the stove, and dipped it into the phlegm-like ooze. She put the spoon to her nose and inhaled the vapors. It smelled rather good, so she ate it and immediately dropped the spoon as the semiliquid burned the roof of her mouth with the heat of a hundred flames. The food must have been left near the oven too long, so she went to the other side of the table, hoping that perhaps the food there would be suitable for eating, instead of torture. The pudding in that dish was colder than the night she had just left behind. She was amazed that there was not a rime of ice covering the rim of the dish. Testing the food in the third bowl, she decided that the temperature of the viscid slop was acceptable, and she choked it down as good as her cramping stomach would allow.

Suddenly she heard a creaking noise from the room where she had entered this house. She went back into the room prepared to explain to the owners of the house that she was just a tired and hungry traveller, and was only looking for succor from the cold wet night. There was nobody there. The only noise was that of a shutter which tapped on the window in the wind which still raged outside. She sat down on one of the three chairs in the room. The stove in the kitchen had somewhat dried her soaking clothes, but they were still damp. Perhaps she would wait for the residents to return home, and ask if she could remain until the weather was more hospitable.

But not in this chair, she thought. It's like sitting on a throne. She moved to the chair opposite. It, too, was far to large. She moved to the remaining chair, and found it acceptable.

She stared out the window as the rain continued unabated outside. The raindrops pounded on the window like rocks, and the morning, although brighter than the night, was still oppresive as the gray sky overhead loomed like a mountain ready to come crashing down at the slightest provocation. She did not intend to provoke it. Instead she ran over the events of the previous evening in her mind. The camping trip that had seemed like such a wonderful idea. A beautiful night to be shared with her beloved. A nighttime picnic of venison and wine, and later, love. How could she have known it would have ended so horribly. Who could have known that bears were going to attack? She tried not to think of the shrieks of her beloved as he was... No, she would not think about it. But the sound echoed in her mind.

She drifted.

Goldilocks decided that whoever lived here had abandoned the house, if only for the day, and she needed sleep. She wandered back through the small kitchen, and on the far side, a room which served as a bedroom to the occupants of the house. She would get some sleep, and she would thank the owners of the house when they returned. She removed her damp clothing, and walked to the largest of the beds. It was like marble. There would be no way she could sleep on such a hard surface. So she moved to the second largest bed. When she sat upon it, she sank deep into it, and found the feeling extremely unpleasant. She moved to the third bed, which felt close enough to her own bed to be comfortable, she slid underneath the warm covers, thankful for the smooth feeling against her skin. And drifted almost immediately into sleep.

Some hours later, she was awakened by voices. The voices seemed gutteral and agitated. Perhaps they realized that someone had eaten their food, and sat in their chairs. They did not seem too happy about it. She slipped out from under the covers and reached for her clothes which lay dry upon the floor.

That was when the door flew open. And there stood three Bears. The snout of the largest bear was covered in blood, and Goldilocks was horrified to see red ... hunks ... in its glistening teeth. The other two animals stood in the doorway similarly splashed in gore. The smallest of the three bears, who Goldilocks now knew was the "baby", carried in its foreclaw the duffel sack of her beloved. There were tears along the side of the sack with horrible red fringes. These were indeed the bears that she had seen last night, and this time, there was nowhere she could run.

The large bear let out a deafening roar as all three moved in for the kill.

Goldilocks' last thought as she was ripped into bloody ribbons was that she would again be with her beloved this day.

This is the version that my dad used to tell me as a bedtime story. I've modified it over the years with each re-telling. For best results, find a kid and read this to 'em, out loud. Do the voices.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Gertrude. She had long, shiny, blond hair that was naturally curly and fell in ringlets. Her mother loved her long, shiny, blond, curly hair, and called her Goldilocks. Gertrude was not fond of the nickname, but ‘Gertrude’ wasn’t such a great name for a little girl, either.

Gertrude’s mother loved to dress her daughter in cute little dresses with lace trim, preferably dresses with flouncy petticoats underneath. She bought little white socks with lace trimmings for her Goldilocks to wear with her shiny black mary jane shoes. Gertrude preferred her old dungarees, her Petunia Pig t-shirt, and her red tennis shoes, but there were times when she just sighed and wore what her mother wanted. Today was one of those dress-up days. It was Gertrude’s grandmother’s birthday, and her family was getting ready to go pay Grandma a visit.

Goldilocks!” Gertrude’s mother trilled, “Why don’t you go play in the back yard until it’s time to go to Grandma’s? Just be sure to keep your clothes neat and tidy!”

“Yeah, ma, okay,” Gertrude grunted, in her very-deep-for-a-little-girl voice. And out she went.

Gertrude eyed her treehouse in the back yard, before deciding it was a bad idea. She was sure to mess up her pretty lacy frilly white dress if she climbed up into her fort. She’d better stay on the ground.

“Goldilocks!” her mother sang out the kitchen window, “Make sure you don’t muss your pretty outfit!”

Gertrude just grunted. She wandered over to the swingset and sat down. She didn’t really feel like swinging, so she just planted her feet in one spot and swayed from side to side. The motion was comforting, and she began to wonder what kind of treats there would be to eat at Grandma’s.

Eventually Gertrude looked down, and realized to her dismay that she had scuffed up a fine layer of dust from the worn patch of earth under the swing, and her black mary janes and her fancy lacy white socks were coated in grayish brownish reddish dirt.

Uh-oh” she said.

Now Goldilocks wasn’t the brightest kid on the block, but she knew that dirty shoes and socks were not going to go over very well with her parents, not when they would be leaving for Grandma’s at any minute. And her mother didn’t know she’d tie-dyed one half of her other pair of fancy socks last week as part of an experiment, and was storing her dead bug collection in the other one. She didn’t have any fresh white lacy socks to change into. She decided the best thing to do would be to rub her feet on the grass and try to wipe the dirty socks off.

Of course, this didn’t work. All that happened was that Gertrude managed to get grass stains on her socks as well. At least she missed, if just barely, the spot on the grass that Bingo the neighbor’s dog had recently visited.

“Hmmf,” Goldilocks grunted to herself, “What’m I gonna do now?”

Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something out in the road that ran in front of her house. A puddle. A pothole that had filled with rainwater was glinting in the sun. That might be just what Gertrude needed!

Of course, precious Goldilocks was not supposed to cross the road in front of her house, let alone play in puddles in the middle of the road. But she wouldn’t be playing, really, and she would act fast. No one would ever notice that she was gone. But hmmm, the gate to the fence around the backyard squeaked when it was opened, and Goldilocks certainly didn’t want to alert her parents to the fact that she was leaving the yard.

She’d just have to go over the fence.

The fence was wooden, and kinda high for a little girl to climb over. But Goldilocks managed, and she only tore her dress a little, and the leaf stains on the back from where she landed in her mother’s flowerbed weren’t that visible, at least not to her.

It had rained two days before, so the puddle had been there a while. Although there was some muddy sediment at the bottom, the top of the water was clear. In theory, it might have been possible to use the clear water at the top to clean something, if one was careful. Goldilocks was not careful. She just wasn’t that kind of girl.

She jumped in with both feet, bent down, and started rubbing her socks, trying to get the dust and grass stains off. Unfortunately, the force of her impact stirred the muck at the bottom of the puddle, and all that happened was that her shoes and socks got completely wet, and muddier. AND the back of her dress got muddy and wet.

When she felt the damp dress against the back of her legs, Goldilocks knew the whole puddle plan had been a bad idea. Just then, she heard her mother’s voice calling to her from the back door.

“Goldilocks! It’s almost time to go, darling!”

Goldilocks panicked. She would be in a world of trouble if her parents caught her looking like this. She looked around wildly and then she made a decision, not the best decision, but a decision. She dove into the bushes on the far side of the road, pushed through them, and ran into the woods.

Goldilocks ran as if pursued by a bear. As she scampered, pine needles from the branches she was passing brushed her face, and some got stuck in her blond curls. She sprinted through spiderwebs that stuck to her face and clothes, and she kicked up dead leaves from the ground as she went. A couple of times, she tripped. Falling down did nothing to improve the state of her clothing.

Goldilocks imagined that she could hear her mother behind her, still calling. Up ahead she saw a huge fallen tree, an old hollowed out log. She dove into it.

The tree had almost completely decomposed, and what was left of the wood was very soft to the touch, and crumbly. As she crawled, Goldilocks was coating her hands and knees with reddish brown wood dust.

A hollow tree, even a fallen one, is a very popular item in the woods. This particular tree was the dwelling of a family of skunks. The youngest skunk, Alistair, was at home as Goldilocks made her mad dash on all fours, and he was not pleased to see her. Goldilocks crawled backward out of the trunk even faster than she had crawled in.

By the time she got out of the hollow tree, Goldilocks was a complete mess. Her hair had bits of pine needles and spider webs and dead wood and leaves and dirt in it, and her dress and shoes were an incredible mix of mud, grass stains, dirt, dust, and leaves. She was very well camouflaged, and no one would ever have recognized her as the little girl who had been playing in her back yard, waiting to go to Grandma’s. In addition to her appearance, there was the way she smelled. Alistair had left her with a lasting reminder not to disturb skunks at home.

As Goldilocks brushed at her skirt and tried to neaten herself up a bit, she saw a wee cottage way off in the distance. She knew it must be very far away, because it looked so small, and things that are a great distance away always appear tiny. She decided to investigate the cabin, to find out who lived there. Maybe they would help her clean up a bit, before she went home.

Almost as soon as Goldilocks started walking toward the cabin, she bumped into the front door. You see, it wasn’t really that far away—it was just really small. Anyway, Goldilocks bumped into the front door hard enough for it to swing open.

How interesting! In front of her was a cozy little room, furnished with three rocking chairs. The biggest of the three was massive in its construction. Goldilocks climbed into it and tried to rock, but it was too big and heavy for her, and she couldn’t get it to budge. She gave up and went to the second chair.

This rocker was smaller than the first, and much more delicate looking. It looked like an antique, the kind of chair that Goldilocks would not have been allowed to sit in at home. Goldilocks climbed into the chair, stood on the seat, grabbed the ornately carved wooden back, and pitched back and forth furiously as though the chair were a rocking horse. This was great fun until the chair broke underneath her. Fortunately, Goldilocks wasn’t hurt. She kicked the broken shards of antique rocking chair out of her way and waded over to the littlest chair.

Goldilocks fit just right in the little chair, but just sitting and rocking was not nearly as fun as riding the antique chair had been, so she got up, knocking the wee little rocking chair over in the process, and decided to explore the rest of the house. She walked through an archway to her right, and found herself in the kitchen.

There were three bowls of something that looked like oatmeal set out on the kitchen table. Goldilocks walked over to the biggest bowl and stuck her finger in it, to test the temperature of the porridge. She would have been scolded for doing that at home, but no one was here to correct her. She stuck her finger in the bowl, and then immediately pulled it out and wiped it on her dress. It was way too cold! She walked around the table to the middle-sized bowl.

This bowl had appetizing spots of something brown in it, as well as oatmeal—Goldilocks hoped they were chocolate chips. They looked like they might be. She used her finger to scoop up a mouthful, and chewed vigorously.

Phtooey!” She spat out the oatmeal. “Raisins! I hate raisins! Nasty little dried-up fruit things! They’re like chewy little bugs! Yuck!” She pushed the bowl of oatmeal and raisins away from her with so much force that it slid across the table and fell onto the floor on the other side, where the bowl broke and cereal spattered across the floorboards.

Despite her distaste for the bowls of porridge she had tried so far, Goldilocks was feeling a bit hungry. She climbed up into the chair in front of the third, smallest bowl, which was still a good deal larger than the bowls Goldilocks ate out of at home. She leaned over tentatively and sniffed the contents of the bowl, and then stuck her finger into it, scooped up a taste, and put it in her mouth. Delicious! It was the right flavor and the right temperature, and there were no raisins in it. She stuck her head directly into the bowl and ate with gusto, making lots of appreciative little snorting sounds and coating her whole face and a good portion of her previously blond curls with sticky porridge in the process.

As soon as she had finished snarfing down the porridge, Goldilocks began to feel a little tired, and so she decided to explore the rest of the cabin and see if she could find a place to curl up for a nap. She went back through the living room, past the open front door, to the stairs that ran along the far wall. She climbed up the staircase, leaving a trail of porridge and dead leaves behind her.

At the top of the stairs, Goldilocks found a hallway with three doors, all closed. She walked over to the first door and opened it.

She found herself in what was clearly the master bedroom. In the middle of the room was a huge bed which looked quite inviting. Goldilocks took a running start and launched herself onto the bed.

The bed wiggled and rolled beneath her; it was a waterbed. Goldilocks had never been on a waterbed before, and she thought it was really cool. The idea of napping left her mind, as she wondered if waterbeds make good trampolines.

They do. Or at least, this one did, until it broke.

As the reader has probably guessed by now, the cabin that Goldilocks found in the woods belonged to a family of three bears, Mama, Papa, and Junior Bear. As is the case with most bears, Papa Bear loved salmon. He kept a secret stash of live salmon in the waterbed he shared with Mama Bear. When the bed broke, all of the water and the fish that had been swimming around in the water gushed out onto the floor, ran out into the hallway, and began to flood down the stairs. Goldilocks watched the fish flopping around on the stairs for a minute, and then moved on to the second closed door.

Opening the door, she found herself in the bathroom. The bathroom sink and the mirror hanging over it were directly in front of her, and when she saw her reflection, she screamed. In that first moment, Goldilocks had not recognized the glop-covered, dirty, leafy image in front of her, and she thought she had run into a horrible monster. Then she realized it was just her own likeness, and she chuckled to herself. She decided to try to splash some water on her face and tidy herself up a bit.

Washing her face helped a little, but Goldilocks’ hair and shoes and socks and dress were still a mess, and she still smelled like skunk. While she was bent over the sink, however, Goldilocks noticed a small shelf that contained Mama Bear’s makeup. Goldilocks was never allowed to play with her mother’s makeup—not that she wanted to use it to pretty herself up, exactly, but the bright red lipsticks and multicolored eyeshadows always looked like they would make good warpaint. This was her chance to give it a try. She used pink and red lipsticks to draw stripes on her cheeks, and she made her nose blue and her lips green using some eyeshadow. Goldilocks was very pleased with her warpaint, and wished that there was someone around to show it to.

Which reminded her—there was one more room left to explore. When she opened the final door at the end of the hall, Goldilocks found Baby Bear’s room, which was even messier than her room at home. When she saw the bed, she couldn’t believe her eyes. A racecar bed! Just the thing she had always wanted! Goldilocks waded through the toys on the floor over to the red and blue striped car that held the bed. Pillows and quilts and sheets and blankets were heaped on it in a big messy mound. It looked so inviting!

Goldilocks suddenly remembered that she was feeling a little sleepy. This would be the perfect place to take a nap! She burrowed in to the covers, disappeared from view, and was soon fast asleep.

*                   *                   *

It was about that time that the Bear family returned from their mid-morning walk. As they neared their cottage, Papa Bear noticed that the front door was open.

“Sthweetheart, did you lock the door when we left?” he asked his lovely wife. “I could have sthworn the door was shut tight.”

“Oh, dear,” said Mama Bear. “I thought I had closed it . . . ”

“Well, don’t you worry your sthweet little head about it,” said Papa Bear. “You and Junior just wait right here, and I will go check and make sure everything ith okay.”

“Can I come with you, Papa?” Baby Bear asked, dancing in a circle around his parents. “Can I can I can I? I’ve got sharp teeth and claws, and if there’s a burglar in our house, I can help you chase him out.”

“No,” his father answered. “I’ll go. You sthay here and protect your mother.”

With that, Father Bear ambled away from his wife and child and toward the cottage.

Dum de deedle dum de deedle dum de deedle. . .

Papa Bear pushed open the front door and peeked inside. He immediately noticed that Junior’s chair was overturned, and his wife’s was in little shards on the floor. He turned around and walked back to his waiting family.

“What’dja see, Dad? Huh? Is there anybody in there? Is it a bad guy? Is it a gang of bad guys? Can I help you chase them? Mom says I’ve got a scary growl. Listen to me growl, Dad! Grrrrrrrrrr!”

Papa Bear ignored his overeager son and took his wife by the hand.

“Sthweetheart, I have sthome bad newths for you. You know your antique rocker, that your mother gave you? Well, it appearths that sthomeone has been sthitting in your chair, and has broken it.”

Mother Bear gasped. “Oh, no! Are they still there? Have they been in the other rooms? Is it safe to go in the house?”

Father Bear looked blank for a second, and then answered, “Oh. I forgot to check. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He turned and sauntered back toward the house.

Dum de deedle dum de deedle dum de deedle. . .

This time, Papa Bear walked through the living room into the porridge-spattered kitchen. He looked around and sucked in his breath. “Uh-oh.” He walked back outside to his wife and son.

“Sthweetheart, you were right. Sthomeone has definitely been in our kitchen. Sthomeone has been eating our porridge, and they’ve made a huge meth. Don’t worry, Junior and I will tidy it up.”

Baby Bear was beside himself with excitement. “Did you see anyone, Dad? Didja? Did you look for clues? If there’s someone in our house I can help you chase him. I can run really fast. Watch me run, Pop! Watch!”

Mama Bear looked panicked. “But what about the rest of the house? Is someone still in there? Did you check upstairs?”

“Oh,” said Papa, after a long pause. “Good point. Wait here; I’ll be right back.”

Dum de deedle dum de deedle dum de deedle. . .

This time, when Papa Bear entered the house, he turned right, toward the stairs. He noticed a trail of dead leaves, dirt, and porridge leading up the staircase, and he smelled what smelled like skunk. Halfway up the stairs, he noticed that there was water flowing down, and salmon flopping about. Hmmm. Salmon from his waterbed?

He walked into the bedroom he shared with Mama Bear and noticed right away that the bed was broken. Water was everywhere, the bedclothes were sopping wet, there were mud and porridge stains on everything, and salmon were floundering around on the floor. He picked up a salmon and munched, as he surveyed the mess. Then he turned around and went back downstairs and outside to his worried wife and impatient child.

“Sthweetheart, sthomeone hath definitely been in our room. In fact, sthomeone has been jumping on our bed.” He leaned closer to whisper, so Junior wouldn’t hear. “You know that sthecret stash of snackths I keep in the bed? Well, the bed is broken and the sthecret stash is flopping around on the stairths. Our room is a meth.”

“What secret stash, Papa? Are you hiding something from me? I want some of the stash! Is it fish? Do you have some kind of fish you’re not telling me about? I love fish! Um, Dad, did you know you smell kinda like skunk? Is there a skunk in our house? Lemme at it! I could cremate a skunk! It would be no match for me and my claws. Look at my claws. Let me at it, Pop!”

Papa Bear glanced down at Baby Bear, dancing around his knees, and then over at his wife. “Sthweetheart, has Junior had hith medication yet today?”

Mama Bear, meanwhile, was wringing her hands with anxiety and beginning to lose her patience with her well-meaning but slow-thinking husband. “Darling, did you check THE OTHER ROOMS? Is it safe to go in the house? Are you sure there’s no one in there?”

“Oh,” said Papa Bear. “I’ll look. You wait here.”

Dum de deedle dum de deedle dum de deedle. . .

This time, Papa Bear made it as far as the upstairs bathroom. The floor of the bathroom was under a few inches of water, because Goldilocks hadn’t turned the tap completely off, and the sink was clogged with bits of dead leaves and spiderwebs and hunks of porridge. The water was slowly flowing out into the hall, joining with the small stream still leaking from the waterbed, and trickling down the stairs. Papa Bear noticed a few of his wife’s tubes of lipstick and other containers of makeup on the sink and floor. He shut off the water, cleared the sink the best he could, put his wife’s makeup back on the shelf, and started back down the stairs and outside, to report what he’d found.

Before he got to the bottom of the stairs, however, Papa Bear remembered that he had forgotten to check Junior’s room. He turned around, scooped up another salmon, retraced his steps up the staircase and down the hall, and peeked in his son’s bedroom.

“Hmmf. Nobody here. Good. Now the houth is sthafe.” He moseyed back to the staircase and strolled outside to deliver the good news.

All clear,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of tidying up to do, but thereth no-one in the houth now.”

Baby Bear pushed past his parents and ran into the cottage. He stood for a minute in the living room, looking at the broken furniture and the trail of porridge from the kitchen. The house still smelled vaguely of skunk. “Wow! Look at this mess, Ma! Someone really did a number on your chair. What will we eat now? Is there more porridge? Hey, look, there are fish on the stairs!”

Without waiting for a reply, Baby Bear ran up the stairs, two at a time, and down the hall to his bedroom. He took a flying leap across the toy-strewn floor, and landed with a thump on his bed.

He landed right on top of the sleeping Goldilocks.

Goldilocks woke up when something big and furry landed on her. She sat up and found herself face to face with a bear. “AAAUUUUGGGGHHH!

Baby Bear found himself looking at a dirt-covered, leaf-covered, skunk-smelling SOMETHING with warpaint across its face. “EEEEEAAAAAAIIIIIIIIKKKKK!

Mama and Papa Bear heard the shrieks and started running up the slippery wet, fish-covered stairs.

By the time Mama and Papa Bear reached the upstairs hall, Baby Bear had realized that the monster in his bed was just a little girl. When he made his scariest face at her, she laughed, and then tried to pet him.

By the time Mama and Papa Bear reached Junior’s bedroom, Goldilocks had told Baby Bear how much she liked his racecar bed, and the two had decided they liked each other.

“Ma, Pop, this is Gertrude. She’s my friend. She’s sorry for the mess she made, and she says she’ll help clean up. Umm, can she take a bath? She needs to clean up, too. I like the warpaint but the skunk smell is Phew-wee! Do you think she could stay for lunch?”

Goldilocks introduced herself to Papa and Mama Bear, apologized for the mess she had made, and helped the bears clean up the mess in the kitchen and the living room and on the stairs and in the hall and in the bathroom and the bedrooms. Papa Bear washed her clothes for her while she took a bubble bath, and Mama Bear made them all a nice lunch with no raisins in it. Junior gathered up all the salmon and put them outside, in the rain barrel.

After lunch, the Bear family walked Goldilocks to the edge of the woods and waved goodbye to her as she crossed the road back to her house. Right before she went into her house, Goldilocks turned, waved, and yelled that she would be back soon for a visit. Then she took a deep breath, opened the front door, and called out, “Mom! Dad! What’s taking so long? I’m ready to go to Grandma’s!

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