There was this one rather amusing one that involved a duck, a priest, and a rabbi but as I do not remember the punch line, I shall spare you.Īs I was saying, my family was feeling quite down and to boost our spirits my father suggested a trip to the countryside. I had lost my beautiful locks forever, or so I thought, and my father had become the punch line of many unpleasant jokes. I have chosen not to confuse you so when all is said and done, you may thank me. I have heard a great many stories started at the end but they become so confusing one wishes they had never heard the story at all. I suppose the best way to start my story would be from the beginning. But, what you do not know is that I was very much in love with the youngest bear. And yes, I even took a small nap in the youngest bear’s bed. I did eat some of their food, and I did sadly destroy a piece of their furniture. I did in fact enter into the home of three bears. Now it is my understanding that you already know some of my story. I suppose I have told you more than you need to know, but as I am unable to speak to you in person, I feel it is important that you do not visualize me incorrectly. While I rode through the streets with my father, who was dressed only in his undergarments, those nasty thieves stole all of our precious things back at the palace. When the day of the parade came, the two tricksters had convinced my father that the invisible thread they had used could only be seen by truly intelligent people. He hired the men to make him the finest garments in the world to wear in the annual town parade. One day, two tailors visited my family’s palace. They became my new best friends, which is actually quite a sad thing for a young schoolgirl. I quickly forgot their purpose and instead focused only on the locks themselves. It was carved with M.M.M., my initials, and covered with diamonds and rubies. The largest was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Noticing this, my father purchased me a beautiful set of gold locks for my birthday. You see, when I was a small school girl I became very obsessed with my possessions. As for myself, the nickname Goldilocks had nothing to do with my hair.
As her niece, I can honestly tell you that she is in fact a redhead. She is almost quite always portrayed as yellow haired. And then there was the constant dreamer Cinderella. She did so enjoy the swimming pool before that horrid witch kidnapped her. You may recall a long haired lass by the name of Rapunzel. It is, in fact, quite dark-almost raven I would say. Which brings to mind a common misconception that people have about me. I think it’s a stunning name, but unfortunately most people, like yourself, only know me as Goldilocks. Let me begin by telling you that my name is Mary Margery Mofflin. I should hope you wouldn’t want that to happen to you. Everyone knows that secret tellers are hung upside down by their toes and forced to listen to polka music all day long for three years. I will tell you my story, but only if you promise to keep it a secret. Ramblings: The Autobiography of Goldilocks
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