Friday, February 12, 2016

Fractured Fairy Tales: Goldilocks, the home economist (or: why doesn't Mr. Bear help clean the house?!)

There are actually two Fractured versions of Goldilocks. But this is the version we used in class....

We worked on these words and phrases (and, of course, on the stereotypes ... the world looked a bit different in 1959).

... upon reaching his 21st birthday ...

"You go out in your bare feet and you'll catch cold." [note: “You go out … and you’ll...” – instead of standard “If you go out, you’ll...]

But he paid his mother no heed and took a three hour constitutional in what amounted to a torrential downpour. Oddly enough he didn't catch cold, but he did contract a severe case of up and down fever which ran up and down the coast at that time of year.

The fever-racked bruin had a nasty time and for a while it was doubtful whether he would ever pull through.

And then, suddenly, instead of taking a turn for the worse, he took a turn for the nurse.

Mr. and Mrs. Bear reside in this cozy cottage. They have a ten-year-old bear son, well, that is he doesn't run around bare, he's a bear -- little bear -- I mean, well, you know what I mean.

"There's so much junk lying around here I can't even find the front door."

Oh, it's true, the house was a mess, and it was all because Mrs. Bear sat around all day watching television and munching chocolates.

"I'm over in the corner, watching the radio."

"The narrator said you were watching television."

"The television's busted; I'm watching radio."

She cleaned up, all right. She started by mopping up the floor with Mr. Bear.

This deplorable situation existed for one year and then, one day, Mr. Bear put his foot down.

It took one full week but, by tracing the wire, he finally located the instrument.

"Hello, home economy bureau? Say, ah, send over a home economist, will ya??"

"Why are you doing that?"

"Because somebody's going to come over and see how we're living, that's what. You'll send one over? Keen-o, lady. She's on her way."

"So is dinner. Porridge is on the table."

"Whereabouts IS the table?"

"It's in the dining room somewhere, we'll find it."

Thanks to the steam emanating from the porridge bowls, they found the table and prepared to dine.

"Yeah, you're right, it is a trifle warm."

"No, no, I mean, suppose she gets here and finds nobody home?"

Well, as if you hadn't guessed by now, the home economist was named Goldilocks.

I don't know how she did it but the next thing she saw was the porridge on the table.

"Better sample this and make out a consumer's report. Brand X is far superior to Brand Y and Z. And it tastes just like the higher-priced mush."

Next in line was the durability test on the furniture. "They're all Danish Modern." Making a note of it, she then went upstairs to examine the bedroom....

"Three beds. Leaping lizards!"

Anyway, our little home economist tested all three beds and eventually fell asleep on the smallest of the three.

"Whoever ate mine even ate part of the bowl!" "Mush burglars!" "Don't be silly, it was probably the home economist." "We've been invaded!" "Calm down! I tell you, it's probably the home economist."

It was then that Goldilocks' snoring fell upon their ears.

"I hope it isn't those boys from UCLA looking for another mascot!"

It was a mighty concerned threesome that ascended the stairs.

"You in the little bear's bed! Give your name, rank, and serial number!"

"See, I told you. Say, what do you think of our living conditions, Annie?"

"I think you're living in squalor."

"Isn't that near, uh, Beverly Hills?"

"By 'squalor' I mean that your living conditions are deplorable, awful, real bad. … I shall see to it that you live in a nice, clean, modern apartment specifically designed for bears."

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