by Rix Quinn

What’s the real meaning of the fairy tale about Goldilocks?

To be frank (although Frank’s not my name), “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” is more confusing than a stop sign on a roller coaster track.

First, you gotta accept that a bear family owns a fancy two-story deep in the woods. Now, these beasts wake one morning, choose porridge instead of raw animal parts, then go for a walk while it cools.

Obviously, rich bears buy expensive furnishings like silver claw clips and human-skin rugs. So, why would they leave an unlocked door to tempt intruders?

In walks Goldilocks, undoubtedly a destructive truant with great curiously, a huge appetite, and narcolepsy.

First, she samples some mismatched chairs. She finds one too hard, one too soft, and the third just right…so she breaks it. What is that about?

Next, she tastes the first porridge and finds it too hot. The second bowl’s too cold. Why? Who cooked this stuff, anyway?

But the third bowl’s just right, so she devours it faster than a hyperactive cannibal gulps ladyfingers at a tea party.

Bloated and sluggish, she wanders upstairs. She tries Mom and Pop’s twin beds (they sleep separately, like on old black-and-white TV shows), then passes out in Junior’s bunk.

About this time, the bears return, find her asleep, shake her awake, and scare heck out of her. She races out, and the bears forget to get a name and address, so they can send a bill for the busted furniture.

This story is too scary for me, because I fear any beast that considers me part of a food group.

And one other thing: If three bears startled me from deep slumber, I’d need to change the sheets, too.

Please ask Rix anything…the weirder, the better. E-mail your questions to rix@rixquinn.com.