the bunny warren v. Faith

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Goldilocks and the Three Vamps

Author: Meltha
Rating: PG for some good, old-fashioned fairytale violence
Feedback: That would be ever so nice, thank you.
Spoilers: I suppose “Innocence”
Distribution: Here. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Summary: Second in Fairytales from the Hellmouth. A weirded out retelling of Goldilocks.
Author’s Note: Yes. I am insane. I enjoy it very much.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose charcters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Dedication: For Ryan, a.k.a., Dial One Boy.

Once upon a time, not very long ago, in a lovely little cottage at the edge of the woods around Sunnydale, there lived three very happy vampires.

“Wait a minute. How happy is happy?”

Break out your leather pants, honey buns. No brooding for you in this story.

“Whoo hoo!”

Anyway, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, these three vampires lived surrounded by peace and harmony.

“Now I’m breaking in. She’s not going to be in this one, is she? I swear, if I have to hear her bloody chewing gum pop one more time…”

No, I wouldn’t do that to you.

“Thanks, luv.”

This time. Anyway, peace and harmony for vampires looks a heck of a lot like open warfare to humans, so things weren’t really all that placid in the charming bungalow. The big daddy vampire, the petite mummy vampire, and the itsy-bitsy baby…

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence! I’m the Big Bad!”

Fine, fine. The really-nasty-but-still-youngest-vampire…

“That was almost too easy.”

Shut up, Blondie, or I’ll make you wear a lacy bib and a propeller beanie for the rest of the story.

“I’m quiet.”

You’d better be, because I thought was a pretty interesting image. Anyway, the three of them were all gathered around the kitchen table one evening, preparing for breakfast.

“Daddy, I’m tired of blood bags. Can’t we go out and find something warm tonight?” asked the mummy vampire peevishly.

“Love to, but Junior over there still has that chip in his head, so he’s kind of stuck eating in for the duration. And even though I think he’s a spineless little wimp, I can’t let him croak. He’d be a real mess to clean up.”

“Can you feel the love tonight,” the vampire in question warbled off-key. He added in a low murmur, “What I wouldn’t give for Peaches to run into a good, old-fashioned wildebeast stampede…”

“But if we did all the bludgeoning, wouldn’t the nasty old chip let him be?”

“Cor, pet, that’s a great idea!”

“Hmm, yeah, that does sound like a plan. Well, let’s just go out for a walk and see who we run in to.”

With that, the three vampires walked out the front door and melted into the shadows. Don’t ask me how they did that. It happens again and again in all the fan fiction. I’ve never really understood it, either.

Not long after, Goldilocks, who was a pretty, blonde little girl…

“Hey, I’m not a little girl! I’m twenty years old!”

You’re five foot two, Slayer. That’s little.

“Well, when you put it that way, I see your point.”

As I was saying, the girl came across the vampires’ home and, noticing the odd lack of any windows, decided to investigate. She knocked on the front door, and when there was no answer, she cautiously went inside, breaking any number of laws, both criminal and etiquette-wise.

“Nice digs,” she said, taking in the extremely expensive and highly sophisticated furnishings. Her eyes fell on the cozy little kitchen nook.

“Looks like somebody left right in the middle of a coffee break,” she muttered to herself as she saw three steaming mugs lined up on the mahogany kitchen table.

Goldilocks picked up the first mug, which was jet black and emblazoned with the phrase “IRISH FOREVER… LITERALLY” in eye-searing red. She took one whiff of the contents and darn near spewed.

“Ewww! Hemoglobin ahoy!” she sputtered as she slapped the mug back down on the table. “So obviously we got a minimum of one vampire living here.”

She moved on to the second mug, which was shocking pink and had “DADDY’S FAVORITE LITTLE PSYCHO” scrawled across it in frighteningly disjointed handwriting. Spying contents identical to the first one’s, the Slayer tallied up yet another undead occupant.

The third and final mug was plain white and had no inscription on it at all since its owner had grown extremely weary of novelty mugs during his stay at a certain librarian’s. Expecting yet another Bloody Mary minus the Mary, Goldilocks peered inside and found…

“Hot chocolate! And the little marshmallows are all nice and smooshy!”

With one gulp, she drained the whole thing. Then, deciding to be nice, she grabbed three coasters from the kitchen counter and set the hot mugs on them so the lovely mahogany finish on the table wouldn’t be ruined.

“Huh?”

I had to rent the furniture from another fan fiction: you know the kind, one where vampires are always inexplicably wealthy. I lose my security deposit if there’s any damage.

“Sheesh. All right.”

Feeling pleasantly drowsy after her little snack, Goldilocks wandered back into the living room. She noticed three chairs standing in a row in front of the massive, roaring fireplace. Granted, it wasn’t exactly intelligent for the vampires to leave with the fire still blazing away, but hey, they liked to live dangerously. The first chair she came to was a massive wingback upholstered in black leather. She sat down in it, but simply couldn’t get comfortable because her feet were a good eight inches off the floor.

“Big dang vampire,” she noted, deciding to try the next chair instead. This one was a lovely little Victorian chair covered in red silk and fluffy pillows.

“Now this is more like it,” Goldilocks sighed as she eased into the dainty little seat. However, she quickly sprang back up again.

“What in the…” she began, feeling something decidedly lumpy underneath one of the cushions. Lifting it up she, she found…

“Ewww! A heart of the no-longer-beating variety!” she managed croak out as she turned a nasty shade of green that didn’t match her shoes.

Slamming the cushion back down, she moved on to chair number three. This one was a nice, unassuming seat.

“That’s an understatement. It’s a metal folding chair like the kind you find at a church basement bingo parlor!”

How would you know that?

“When I ran away after season two, I swung by a few to pick up a little extra cash. But that’s not the point. I mean, heck, the seat’s dented in, and it’s covered in rust for crying out loud!”

Do you remember the original story?

“Yeah.”

Remember what I said about the security deposit on the furniture?

“Yeah.”

Well, I couldn’t very well afford the King of England’s throne if it’s going to be “smashed all to pieces,” now could I?

“I am not even going to consider parking my keister on that thing.”

Fine. Do me one favor.

“What?”

Exhale on it.

“You’re nuts, but okay.”

With that, the chair fell over and was indeed smashed all to pieces. With that plot device neatly handled, Goldilocks decided to venture up the stairs to where the vampires slept during the day. The first bed she saw was enormous and draped from canopy to dust ruffle in black.

“He has a dust ruffle?!?”

Yup. Feel free to use this as an opportunity for later verbal torment towards said vamp. In any case, the second bed was covered in so many dolls that the color of the bedspread was entirely obscured. At least three hundred of the porcelain lovelies were staring at her, as well as one short alien who was sitting very still and trying to blend in. He must have done a good job, because the Slayer moved on to bed number three.

This one was a simple, ordinary bed, but there was one thing about it that was unusual. It hadn’t been made. The sheets were all rumpled up and the pillows were askew. Feeling herself starting to become even drowsier than before, Goldilocks decided to take a little nap in…

“The doll-covered bed.”

Wait a minute; that’s not how this goes.

“Narrator, I’ve already figured out who all three of these vamps are, and there is no way on the good green earth that I am climbing into you-know-who’s bed!”

With that, the Slayer quickly dumped the dolls on the floor, sending the poor little web-footed alien shrieking into the night to find Steven Spielberg, double checked the bedding for any major organs, and snuggled down for a quick forty winks.

“You know, before I doze off, I just have to say that…”

I know; purposely falling asleep in a vampire lair is among the dumbest things it is possible to do. Point taken. Now snooze already.

Not long after, the three vampires arrived back at their humble abode, all of them glaring at each other silently. The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a stake.

“It wasn’t my fault!” blurted the daddy vamp suddenly.

“Pop, every single victim we picked out tonight got a 300 yard start on us because of your fashion victim wardrobe,” sneered the youngest vamp.

“Okay, I admit I should have broken the new pants in a little bit before wearing them to hunt,” he began to explain.

“You couldn’t run more than two paces without collapsing and whining about them cutting off your circulation! You’re dead, man; you don’t have a circulatory system anymore!” griped the youngest vampire as he made his way into the kitchen, resigned to nuking yet another dinner. However, he came to an abrupt halt.

“Someone’s been in here,” he said in a low, dangerous voice as he beckoned the other two vampires to come closer.

“Somebody’s put a coaster under my mug!” shouted the daddy vampire angrily.

“Somebody’s put a coaster under my mug as well,” added the mummy vampire vaguely.

“Well, somebody put a bloody coaster under my mug too, and whoever it was went and drank my hot cocoa and marshmallows,” he declared in fury. Nobody messed with Junior’s cuppa.

“Coasters? Who broke in? Martha Stewart?” the daddy vampire asked in confusion.

“Oh, I don’t like her,” whispered the mummy vampire fearfully. “She’s too evil for me.”

The other two vampires nodded in solemn agreement. If it turned out that Martha was indeed the burglar, they would simply leave the house without a fight. There are some things so horrible that even a full-fledged creature of the night can’t face them.

The little family wandered over to the fire, the mummy vampire still haunted by images of color-coordinated spice racks. This time, it was the daddy vampire who noticed something was wrong first.

“Somebody’s been sitting in my chair!” he roared in fury as he noted that the pillows were slightly moved.

“Somebody’s been sitting in my chair as well!” cried the mummy vampire frantically. She started digging through the cushions like a deranged woodchuck, then fished out the heart.

“Oh, thank evilness. I thought they’d stolen the remote control,” she said as she sat back in her chair. She proceeded to stare at the fire before her as she held the heart and occasionally pushed at it with her thumb. The other two vampires exchanged looks.

“Um, pet? That’s your late night snack. We don’t own a telly. They won’t even be invented for several hundred years yet. You only know about them because you’re a seer, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot. I was wondering why all the channels were showing the same thing. Sorry,” she said as she threw the heart at him. It bounced off his head.

“Great. Once again, I get conked in the gourd with an organ. Just lovely. And hey, look at this,” he said, finally noticing his own chair. “Somebody’s been sitting in my chair, and it’s smashed all to pieces!”

He paused for a moment, considering the rusty remains of the folding chair.

“Maybe I should write whoever did it a thank you note,” he mused thoughtfully.

Deciding that they should check to see if the intruder was still there, they cautiously crept up the stairs to their sleeping quarters.

“Well, somebody hasn’t been in my bed,” said the daddy vampire. “And here I thought I was irresistible to women! That means our burglar must either be a male or Willow.”

The youngest vampire rolled his eyes in disgust.

“Besides which, I know how this story goes,” he said, practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation of being able to say the infamous line, but mummy vampire beat him to it.

“Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed, and there she is!” she squealed. “And she’s not Martha Stewart after all. Can we eat her, Daddy?”

“Now hold on just one ruddy minute there, narrator!”

You got a problem, oh blond one?

“Darn tootin’! That delinquent drank my hot chocolate, broke my chair, and I don’t get to have her pick my bed!”

Yup.

“Well, I just won’t stand for that.”

Junior, I’m warning you; you’re two seconds away from serious consequences.

“I’m not afraid of you, you second-rate, two bit, cheap imitation of Hans Christian Anderson!”

Oh really? With that, the lacy bib and beanie propeller hat from earlier suddenly materialized on the vampire.

“Now that’s rich,” the daddy vampire said as he spun the little propeller on his childe’s head. “That is just too perfect!”

The mummy vampire had fallen to the floor in a fit of hysterical giggles at the sight of him.

“Get this bloody thing off of me!” the now none-too-threatening looking vampire yelled as he tried to pry the firmly placed hat from atop his peroxided tresses. It did no good.

Suddenly, Goldilocks woke up, which was no wonder considering the brouhaha that was going on right under her nose.

“Hey, the gang’s all here,” she yawned as she opened her hazel eyes. “Whoa, nice chapeau.”

Unable to stand his sire’s smirk for another moment, the younger vamp leapt across the room, knocked him to the floor, and began to pummel him mercilessly. Mummy vampire and Goldilocks looked on in avid interest at the display of domestic fury.

“And this is for taking my girlfriend away,” the blond yelled as he landed a left hook to the other vampire’s jaw. “And this is for all those ‘sit and spin’ comments, and this is for making me sit on a ruddy folding chair, and this is for sending me to bed early on my one hundred and sixteenth birthday, and this is for cutting up my duster to make those bloody pants!” By this time, daddy vampire was seeing little stars that mummy vampire heard singing the “Star Spangled Banner.”

Wait a minute. Junior, can you hold up on the assault and battery for a second?

“What in blazes do you want now!”

Did you just say that he made those pants out of your duster?

“Yeah, he did.”

That’s what I thought you said. Now that is just going too far.

“Oh, I like the gleam in your eyes, pet.”

Hold on to your bib, because it only gets better. As the two vampires continued to thrash each other, daddy vampire was suddenly thrown against his bed. The force of the blow knocked several pillows to the floor with a dull thunk.

“Now hold on just one second! I know where you’re going with this, and…”

You touched the duster. You knew you were going to have to pay sooner or later, so button your overbite. There, underneath one of the pillows, lay the daddy vampire’s little secret.

“Um, Pop, what is this?” asked his childe with false innocence as he held the object up.

“Give me that!” the older vampire cried out in panic.

His childe had absolutely no intention of letting go of the golden brown, fluffy teddy bear that had been revealed. Mummy vampire’s eyes crossed in confusion.

“Why do you have a teddy?” she asked in a perplexed voice.

“Yeah, well, why do you have tea parties with hundreds of dolls?” he countered defensively.

“Because she’s more than a bit round the bend, you doddering nitwit. Oh, this is just too good. The Scourge of Europe wants back his wittle… wait a minute. What’s its name?”

“Hand it over or I swear…”

“Not unless you tell me its name,” replied his child in an annoying singsong, holding the bear just out of reach. The other vampire sighed.

“Mstetwnke.”

“How’s that?”

“HIS NAME BE MISTER TWINKIE! NOW GIVE TA BEAR BACK, OR I’M LIABLE TA CRACK YOUR BLOOMIN’ ENGLISH SKULL IN TWA!”

“Whoa,” Goldilocks declared in an impressed tone of voice. “You freaked him out so much he reverted to his bad Irish accent!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, luv. Catch me if you can!” yelped the now bibless and beanieless teddy-napper as he darted down the stairs, closely pursued by a very ticked off daddy vampire who was soon clutching his waist in agony from running in his far-too-tight leather pants.

Mummy vampire and Goldilocks looked at each other in amusement.

“Well, looks like the boys may just finish each other off. Makes my job a whole lot easier,” Goldilocks said as she pulled a stake out of the sleeve of her little gingham dress.

“Oh, don’t let’s fight,” mummy vampire implored. “It’s been ages since I’ve had had some girl talk. Far too much testosterone in the house. Want to go downstairs and have some cocoa with me and Miss Edith?”

Goldilocks regarded her for a moment, then said “What the heck? Why not?”

As the two females went back down the staircase, the Slayer took one look back over her shoulder.

“A dust ruffle? Who knew?”


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