Another One About A Girl

The broken street light cloaked her entrance into the Three Bears Motel. The clerk, a half-asleep dark-haired man in his early twenties, jumped to attention as a tall blonde with sexy blue eyes stood before him carrying a grey backpack and a coal-black suitcase. She gripped both like mama bear toting her cubs. She spoke in with a deep husk, either affected by sickness or bad habits.

“I need a room, smoking, and I’m paying cash, okay?”

The clerk found the proper form and punched in the number three on the key card reader. He smiled and tried to flirt.

“Wow, you’re probably the prettiest person I’ve ever seen check into this place. You must be from out-of-town.”

Her eyes stayed on the on the suitcase while her hands trembled like leaves in a March wind. The clerk, too young and clueless to see her state,  kept talking.

“So where ya from? I mean, well, I guess I could just read what you write on this paper.”

His goofy grin just pissed her off. She snapped.

“I’m paying cash, you don’t need to know anything else! Just give me the key card!”

He picked up the card and held it between his skinny fingers and snarled back at her.

“Montana state law says I must have a written record of every person staying in this hotel. So listen Goldilocks, I need this job. Make up a name. I don’t give a damn. But fill out the paperwork and go be a bitch in room three.”

She shot laser beams at ice blue hate through him. Her twitching left hand picked up a black ink pen and started writing. For that one cool, cruel night Goldilocks Jones from Las Vegas, Nevada was a guest of The Three Bears motel in Lincoln, Montana. The written record said so.

Goldilocks made her way to room three. The overwhelming odor of cigarette smoke, lysol, and despair was familiar. Two beds separated by a lamp on a nightstand populated the space. She sat her backpack on one bed and the dark suitcase on the other. Those items were more important than she was, she thought, as she sat in floor with her back to the nightstand. It felt right, whatever right was on this day.

She pulled off her dark blue hoodie, Her dirty, ripped blue jeans followed. Wearing only a faded Nirvana t-shirt and white panties she stood over the suitcase and swallowed hard.

“My whole pathetic life in one black box.”

Goldilocks opened it and tears flowed over her pale, gaunt face. Her hands shook even more as she examined its contents.

“I should’ve stayed in Vegas. This isn’t me, I’m not good girl, but I’m not a bad one, either.”

She moved over to the backpack and reached inside the front pocket. Three pill bottles were scooped up and she set them on the floor where she assumed the position of her back against the nightstand. She took a pill from each bottle. The first one was bitter, the second one was somewhat sweet, the third one had no taste, and she liked it best. Goldilocks closed her eyes and murmured.

“I need to dream something wonderful.”

The next time she opened them, three large men stood over her . Her dream was over. One of the men barked orders to the other two.

“Get the suitcase and whatever drugs she has in the backpack. I’ll take care of the Goldilocks that robbed our casino.”

Goldilocks whimpered.

“I’m sorry I stole the suitcase. I’m sorry for how I lived my life. “

The large man didn’t respond. One of the other men handed him the pill bottles. Goldilocks stared at the containers and responded.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take them all. Just let me have one more wonderful dream.”

****blogger’s note****

This is a very special Blossom err, episode of My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. Trifecta writing asked for a take on the Goldilocks and The Three Bears. I’ve been writing some noir style stuff and I thought I’d try this. http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/

I’ve used Nirvana’s About A Girl before, but it was a sweet post about my daughters. I used the electric version. This time, since this is completely different, we’ll go with the threesome of Kurt, Dave and Krist, unplugged. Here’s About A Girl.

“Girls Are The Bunk”

I was going to show you a new Helene Troy story episode themed “black and white” after my www.indieink.org prompt. I literally dotted the eyes and crossed the t’s in my notebook and tracked down the song. As I closed my computer I saw this commerical during a break in the Cardinals blow out win over the Brewers NLCS baseball playoff game:

So Dr. Pepper has a new diet cola, “10″, that has ten calories. They’ve decided that only men should drink this product. I’m fascinated by this advertising strategy. This is how I imagine the braintrust came up with this idea.

I’m a man. I realize I live with 4 women, write constantly about it, have a majority of blog readers who are women, and I know more about bras and femine hygiene products than most dudes. But, thank goodness I finally have my own drink!

I’ve been a Dr. Pepper fan since I was a kid. Like Forest Gump, I once drank about 15  Dr. Peppers’ and then had to pee.

So, dudes who read this blog raise your right hand.

Let’s pledge to not let any women drink our Dr. Pepper 10s because “girls are the bunk”.

ps……..Dr. Pepper 10 tastes like crap.

The late great Bill Hicks said best about advertising and marketing:

 

******blogger’s note****

Helene Troy story episode for Indie Ink prompt later today, pinky swear…..

Today’s song, or at least the one for this post is from Joe Jackson. It’s ironic, like this post. Here’s I’m The Man: