Goldilocks and the Three Beers

Once upon a time, when writers couldn't think of more original openings to fairy tales, a little girl went skipping along a path that wound through the forest. It was a sunny day and the sun shone off her golden-blonde hair: hence her name, Goldilocks. Actually, she was called Britney - Goldilocks was just a nickname, since nobody would really call their daughter that, except maybe rich people who carry around a pet tutu-wearing chihuahua. It was then that she saw a quaint, wee cottage in the middle of a clearing. A few cats died as curiosity got the better of her and she walked up to the front door. Goldilocks knocked three times and since there was no reply, walked brazenly in, as only someone in a Hollywood movie would do.
She entered a living room where there were three chairs. The first was a very big, old, leather, reclining armchair. It had a remote control perched on the armrest and looked very comfortable, but as she sat down in it she noticed a couple of dodgy stains and a slightly whiffy smell emanating from it. Goldilocks went to the next chair, which was very clean and smelled lovely. She didn't feel very comfortable though, sitting in a chair that looked more like a work of art and couldn't relax in case she messed up the perfectly-fluffed up cushion and the lace doily on the headrest. She decided instead on the beanbag in the corner and wanting to make herself at home, took a running jump and landed arse-first in the middle of it. Unfortunately, she wasn't a wee toddler anymore and the bag exploded, beans flying everywhere. 'Oh, bother,' she remarked primly. 'That's no bloody good.' In that moment, she spied the three beers sitting on the coffee table. 'Cool!' She picked up the biggest beer first, naturally, took a sip and made a face. 'Ooo, much too strong.' She went to the middle-sized beer and discovered it was Budweiser. 'Ooo, too weak.' She picked up the last, tiny little beer and was even more disgusted to find it was nonalcoholic. 'It shouldn't even be called beer,' she grumbled. But they were beers all the same, and not being that fussy, mixed them all together and downed them in one go. Not surprisingly, she soon started to feel sleepy and staggered upstairs to the bedroom.
The first bed, like the chair, looked big and comfortable, but Goldilocks really didn't like the look of the stains on that one either. She went to the next bed which had so many cushions arranged on top, apart from the three pillows, that she couldn't be arsed moving them. With that, she collapsed into a comatose state on the littlest bed.
Not long after, the three bears came home. Rather than repeating obvious lines, since this isn't a fairy story targetted to sweet, innocent children, suffice it is to say that they agreed that someone had been in their house. They went upstairs to the bedroom and suddenly, not wanting to voice the question that sprang to Papa and Mama Bear's minds as to who had been sleeping in their respective beds, muttered some excuse and shuffled quickly and nervously downstairs. However, the littlest bear didn't mind and nine months later Goldilocks lived happily ever after with her son, Yogi.
Moral: Young girls should be warned of the perils of breaking and entering people's houses. Oh, and of course, beers and bears.
Check out another non-traditional story, my kids' book, Santa's Night Off. When Santa is sick on Christmas Eve, who is going to deliver the presents? A merry, but mad, Christmas for all the family.

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