Allegorical Absurdity: Goldilocks

Once upon a time, a young girl named Goldilocks was prancing through the woods during a brisk fall day. Of course, she wasn't the brightest of little girls. She should have known better than to wander the woods alone, and it certainly wasn't a good idea to embark on this journey with no provisions. Lost, cold, and hungry, Goldilocks wasn't sure if she'd make it through the night. So when she stumbled upon an isolated house in the forest, her first instinct was to knock on the door and hope the owners would invite her in for dinner.

So she knocked and knocked, and yet no one would answer the door. But when she gripped the large wooden doorknob herself, she noticed that the door wasn't locked. So the little girl named Goldilocks took the liberty of inviting herself in.

The house was much bigger than she expected. Inside, she saw a beautifully decorated dinner table stretching far into the main hall, with a warm fire burning in the fireplace. The finest china, expensive silverware, and ornate napkins were neatly laid out in front of each of the dozens of chairs surrounding the table. And at every seat, there was a hearty bowl of porridge prepared for the eventual guests. What a feast the owners had prepared! What great fortune that the tired and hungry Goldilocks stumbled upon this house in the middle of the forest!

Goldilocks was hungry. There was no one home. So, without hesitation, she tasted the porridge from the first bowl.

"This porridge is too hot!" she exclaimed.

So, she tasted the porridge from the second bowl.

"This porridge is too cold," she said.

So, she tasted the third bowl of porridge.

"Ahhh, this porridge is just right," she said happily. "But perhaps just a bit too salty."

So, she glanced at the fourth bowl of porridge.

"This porridge is too dark!"

Fortunately, there was a fifth bowl. She took one hefty spoonful to her mouth.

"But this porridge is too light!"

And the sixth bowl? "This porridge is just too thick."

And the seventh was too thin.

The eighth? "Oatmeal, barley... I should really watch my carbs."

She tasted from the ninth bowl of porridge, but it tasted a bit old. The tenth bowl seemed undercooked.

And this went on. And on. And on.

* * *

The three bears had returned home. Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and little Baby Bear. Not shortly afterwards. Not the same night. Not the next day. It was nearly a week later that the bears finally returned, after a disaster relief effort in a neighbouring forest kept them busy. They were, after all, very noble bears, always willing to help a soul in need.

And there she was, she of the golden locks, lying faint in the hall. Malnourished. Thin. Her face laying in a small puddle of her own drool. Her golden locks were dirty and wet. Papa bear looked upon her with shock.

"A little girl!", exclaimed Papa Bear.

"Is she alright? Is she breathing?", Mama Bear cried, as she ran to the sick child. She was still breathing, but she had clearly lost consciousness. Mama Bear brought some water, and did her best to wake up the fallen Goldilocks by giving her small sips.

"But what about all the porridge we left out for any visitors?" the baby bear lamented, as he bounced up to his little chair. "Someone's been eating my porridge, but she only ate a bite!"

With this, Goldilocks began to regain consciousness. Just a little, but she managed to squeak out two words. "Too ... salty .. " With that, she collapsed again into the arms of Mama Bear.

Papa Bear looked at Mama Bear, who in turn was affectionately looking upon the poor, hungry child. Papa Bear felt little sympathy, though. "Some people," he growled, "are just too picky."