The Three Bears and the Intruder
by Michael E. Lloyd
“Ssssshhhhhh!!!”
“I only said ...”
“Ssssssssshhhhhhhh!!”
* * *
“Can I whisper please ...?”
“All right — but VERY quietly.”
“Why are we hiding in here ...?”
“Because.”
* * *
“What’s she doing?”
“She’s eatin’ my goddam breakfast, that’s what!”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask dumb questions!”
* * *
“What’s she doing now?”
“She left most of your Poppa’s porridge! Now it’s MINE she’s eatin’, the little strumpet!”
“Ssssshhhhhh, woman! We MUSTN’T frighten her!!”
“Why not, Poppa?”
“Because, my boy, it might give her a heart attack. And when the paramedics get here, they’ll grill us till we cave in ...”
“HUH?”
“Ssshhhhhhhh!”
* * *
“What’s she doing now?”
“She eatin’ YOUR porridge, baby — all of it!”
“MWWWWAAAAA!!!!”
“SHUDDUP!!”
* * *
“What’s she doing now?”
“She’s sittin’ in my goddam chair, that’s what!”
“Why?”
“God, give me strength!”
* * *
“What’s she doing now?”
“Now she’s sittin’ in MY lovely chair. And look at all that sticky porridge on her fingers! Aaarrggghh ... now she’s gettin’ it all over the material! The lil’ hussy!!!”
“Hush, my dear. Don’t disturb her!”
“Why not, Poppa?”
“Because, my son, she may well have a tape-recorder runnin’. It’s probably a honey-bear trap ...”
* * *
“What’s she doing now?”
“She sittin’ in YOUR little chair, baby.”
CRACK!
“Yelp! What WAS that?”
“That WAS your little chair, baby. I’ll buy you a new one when this is all over ...”
“MWWWWAAAAA!!!!”
“SHUDDUP!!”
* * *
“What’s she doing now?”
“She’s freakin’ well lying down in my own bed!!”
“Why?”
“DUH?”
* * *
“What’s she doing now?”
“Now she’s jumpin’ into MY BED! That REALLY does it!”
“Cool it, Honey.”
“Poppa, why do you and Momma have separate beds ...?”
“Sheeeeeesh!”
* * *
“What’s she doing now?”
“P’raps you can guess, baby ...”
“Aw, shit! She’s not in my bed now, is she?”
“Well ...”
“MWWWWAAAAA!!!!”
“Sssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
* * *
“Poppa, why don’t you just walk outa this pantry into the heart of your own house, and challenge her, and throw her out on her ass?”
“Uh-uh. Too risky. She sues, the defence says it was a gang attack, the jury loves her blonde hair, and we all end up in the slammer for 10 years.”
“Ah, I SEE. Wow, Poppa, you’re real smart!”
* * *
“So what do we do now?”
“We unbolt the pantry door, real quiet. Then we tiptoe round the side of the house, and we creep in the front door. Then we just sorta stand there. Then I cough — gently. If that doesn’t wake her, I cough again, a little louder ... and so on. Got all that?”
“Yes.”
“Yep.”
* * *
Cough.
COUGH.
COUGH!!!!
“Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh.”
* * *
“Wow — she can run REAL fast, Poppa!”
“She sure can, baby! OK, folks, we’re safe at last. Now, where’s that furniture catalog ...?”
Copyright © 2005 by Bewildering Stories on behalf of the author
