One quaint afternoon in a cabin in an English forest, the Bearingtons sat down for breakfast – as they were late-sleepers.
“Good afternoon that I just awoke from,” James T. Bearington said as he trumped down the stairs, “what is for breakfast?”
“...Porridge...” Winston, James T. Bearingtons' son grumbled, already sitting at the table, “again.”
James T. Bearington grumbled as Momma Bearington pinched Winston's ear and told him to behave. “It's what we're having, and that is final.” She said as she set the last two bowls or porridge out, and sat down to eat.
James T. Bearington sat down at the table, the look of annoyance splashed with disgust drawn onto his face as he stared blankly at the portrait across from his view at the table. It was a painting of James T. Bearingtons' father, and Winston's grandfather; General George Bearington, in uniform -who served in The Great Bear-Battle of Bum's-Bottom Hill. They had won, of course.
The instant James T. Bearington had put a spoonful of porridge in his mouth, he spat it out, choking and shouting. “Great mother of volcanoes and lava rocks--” He was cut short by Mamma Bearington, who flicked his ear. “Mind your mouth, James!”
James T. Bearington glared at her “Ow,” He sputtered,  “and this porridge is far too hot to eat!”
Winston laughed as he put a spoonful in his mouth, however he was sentences to the very same results. “Son of a thousand burning coals!” -flick- “Ow!”
James T. Bearington stood up blankly, “Well anyway, I'm off to take a walk.”
“And just why are you doing that?” Mamma Bearington asked, “We're eating breakfast!”
“Yes... Well,” James T. Bearington stuttered for an excuse, “No use just sitting around doing nothing while we wait for the bowl of hot-rocks -er, “porridge” to cool.”
At that, Mamma Bearington got far more cross and picked up the wooden spoon she was using to stir the porridge with and began to threaten. “Why, I oughta'--”
“-Welp' see later!” James T. Bearington interrupted and took off out the door.
Winston sat at the table wide-eyed, astounded by his fathers behavior. “...So what do we do now?” He asked.
Mamma Bears eyes narrowed. “We go after him.” And with that, she grabbed Winston's hand, wooden spoon in the other, and began to chase after James T. Bearington. “Just you wait til' I catch up to ya' James! You're not too old for a spanking!” She shouted as Winston, being dragged, pulled and shouted, looking back to the house “Mamma, the door!”
The front door had been left wide open, but Mamma Bearington was far to determined to catch James to care, or even listen.


After they had been gone from the house for at least an hour or so, a young girl named Helga Goldilocks just happened to coincidentally walk past the same bear-families home, who's door was wide open.
“Ooh, look,” She noted, “An empty house in the middle of the woods. This seems safe!”
And as she finished she proceeded to enter the home, not knowing that it belonged to three bears.

Inside, she immediately saw the table,and the three bowls of porridge that sat atop it.
“PORRIDGE!” She screamed as she lunged for the first bowl. Taking a large spoonful, she shoveled it into her mouth. But soon after, she spat it out. “Boiling water and all things holy! This is hot!”
She sat for a moment, but then decided to try again, this time, on the next bowl. She swallowed the spoonful bitterly “Good lord, this is cold!”
She thought she should just give up, but seeing that there was one more bowl sitting on the table, she might as well give it a try. She took the spoon, and lifted the porridge to her mouth. “Eureka!” She exclaimed, “It's perfect!” And she continued to devour the rest of the bowl.
“Well I'm just so full that I need to find somewhere to sit down other than this convenient dinning room table chair that I am already sitting in.”

She entered the living room to find three chairs sitting in front of a television that was playing the Lone Ranger. “Oh boy,” She exuded, “I love this show now that I found out that Johnny Depp is going to be in the remake movie!”
Helga attempted to sit in the largest chair in the room, But as she sat, she continually repositioned herself. “This is not comfortable at all,” She grumbled, “it's far too hard!”
She stood up and moved to the next chair, and sat down. “This one is far too soft!”
She stood up, and noticed the last chair. “Well, it worked last time.” And she sat down in the last chair. “Just like last time, It's just right!” But as she laughed and rocked, watching the television, the chair collapsed from under her.
She sprawled about, freeing herself from the tangled wreckage of the broken chair.
“My,” She proclaimed, “This would be a key opportunity for me to leave and not get caught for eating their porridge or breaking their chair,” She sat on the floor for a moment, but then spoke further “But I am tired! Time to find a bed.”

She found herself upstairs, in a room with three beds. “Beds!” She shouted as she ran towards the first one and jumped onto it.
THUD.
She belly flopped onto the rock-hard mattress. She gasped as he rolled off “Oh my, that was too hard,” Then she thought, “I think I'm seeing a pattern.”
She decided to entirely skip the second bed, and laid down on the smallest one. “Ah,” She sighed, “Just right.” And she fell into a deep sleep.


“Ow ow ow!” James T. Bearington repeated sharply as Mamma Bearington dragged him by the ear back home.
“You are going to eat that porridge,” Mamma Bearington said, “and you will like it!”
Winston fallowed behind, giggling.
“Giggle while you can, boy, “James T. Bearington glared, “You have to eat it too.”
Winston's mood immediately sank.

As they reached the house, Mamma Bearington shouted. “The front door is opened! Someone must have broken in!”
Winston piped up. “No, you left it open when you--”
But he was cut short by Mamma Bearington. “Hush hush, Winston! We don't want to alert the burglar!”
“Well then what are we supposed to do?” asked James T. Bearington.

The next thing James T. Bearington knew he was being pushed into the house by Mamma Bearington.
He grunted as he pulled himself up and looked around. “There's no one in here!” He shouted.

Mamma Bearington was holding Winston close to her, leaning up against the outside of the house. “Check the living room! They might have wanted the TV!”
She heard James T. Bearington groan, and then paw steps echoed away. “There's no one in the living room, either.” He said after a bit.
Mamma Bearington slowly stepped into the house with Winston still in her bear-hug-grip. She peered about the room, making sure it was safe.
James T. Bearington grumbled as he sat back down at the table, about to grudgingly eat the bowl of porridge. But just before the spoonful entered his mouth, he stopped and his eyes went wide. Winston noticed his fathers face as he went to sit down at his spot at the table.
He watched curiously as James .T Bearington stood up and began to briskly move into the living room. A few seconds after entering the room, he shouted. “Winston's chair is broken!”
Just as he was shouting, Winston had noticed with delight that his porridge bowl was practically licked clean. “My porridge is gone!”
And as he finished, Mamma Bearington -who had gone upstairs to gather the dirty clothes- was running down the stairs in a terrified state. “Some awful creature is sleeping in Winston's bed!”


Helga Goldilocks was slowly waking up from her sleep, and as she did so, she heard a small child's voice. “It sure is ugly... Whatever is it...”
She then heard a deep voice “It's one of those Human things! I saw one once on the Discovery Channel”
“goodness gracious,” A woman's voice exasperated, “I thought they were just myth! Never thought they were real, let alone that one would fall asleep in a bed in our house!”
“Can we keep it?” the child asked
“No, They've got rabies!” spoke the deep voice.
As Helga opened her eyes, she was confronted by three talking bears, standing next to the bed, watching her.
She lay there for a moment, and then began to speak. “As I see it, I am faced with the all too common situation of finding talking bears, and I might as well explain myself. I unlawfully entered your home, ate your food, and broke a chair in the living room. All I ask is that we may be friends, and I will forgive any hard feelings you may have towards me.”


This did not go well with the Bearingtons whatsoever, and Helga found herself running out of house and into the woods faster than her stubby legs should have allowed her.
“Don't ever come back,” Shouted James T. Bearington, “and that's final!”
“Serves you right,” Said Mamma Bearington, “Stay in the wild where you belong!”
Winston listened to Helga's sobbing cries as she vanished into the trees. “Well,” He muttered, “she can't be all bad...”
James T. Bearington and Mamma Bearington turned to him with questioning looks.
Winston cowered a bit, “...She ate my porridge.”