Wednesday already, yep, time flies in the land of strange stories. This week’s Indies Unlimited prompt led to some strange fairy tale mash ups. I don’t want to color the reaction to this piece or anything but I did have images of Yogi Bear running through my head on several occasions. Take that for what it’s worth to you…
The Three Little Bears
The little blonde-haired girl watched as the bear cubs groomed each other.
Disgusting, she thought. But they were occupied, and that would give her the chance she’d been waiting for to sneak into their house and steal back the basket of goodies she was going to take to her grandmother.
What she didn’t know was that someone else was watching her, and he meant to get that basket of goodies. Just the thought of it made him wag his tail in anticipation…
She slipped through the back door, away from the three bears. The unfamiliar house challenged her speed and silence but their attention focused on the grooming chore gave her some freedom. A quick snatch and grab and she creeped out the way she entered the house. She peered around the corner of the house to check on the bears, still occupied. Without a thought she turned the other way and skipped into the woods.
The blonde-haired girl whistled a jaunty tune as she skipped down the path through the woods. Well, until she heard an echoing whistle that matched her tune. It stopped her cold.
A quick look around revealed nothing so she started her song again. The echo returned, as well as a large wolf. He stepped onto the path in front of her.
“Nice basket,” he said. “Gimmie the goods.”
She smiled but said nothing. Ready to continue on her path, she whistled again. The wolf unable to resist the tune joined her. When he stood fast on the path to block her she stepped to the side to go around.
“The basket,” he said. “Pass it over. Pay the toll.”
“This basket?” she asked. “Granny said to never give it up to strangers. But maybe just this once.” She reached inside and pulled out a .38. “You were saying?”
She whistled her song again to the percussion of gun blasts. The wolf didn’t echo a reply.
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