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Authors: Herschel Cozine

Tags: #General Fiction

The Porridge Incident (2 page)

BOOK: The Porridge Incident
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Several minutes passed, and I was about to ring again when the door opened slowly. A small woman, older than God, stuck her head through the opening and looked at me inquiringly. I took my hat off and bowed slightly in her direction.

“Does Aurora still live here?” I inquired.

The old crone eyed me for a minute, appraising me until I felt like a piece of tainted meat in a delicatessen. Finally, she spoke.

“She’s asleep,” she said.

I nodded. “Yes, I know.”

She continued to appraise me with a disapproving eye. “You sure don’t look like any prince I ever saw.” She made a face, if that was possible considering her natural one.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Ain’t you the prince that’s supposed to come and kiss her, or do whatever it is you’re supposed to do? Well, you’re ninety-five years early.”

“I’m not a prince,” I said. “I’m a private detective.”

“I might of knowed,” she said. “Well, she ain’t receivin’ visitors.”

“I understand,” I said. “But it is important that I see her.” I explained about the case I was working on. “I promise I’ll be quiet.”

The old woman laughed humorlessly. “No need for that. She don’t hear anything these days.” She thought for a while. Then she stood aside. “Don’t see what harm it can do. Follow me.”

She led me through a maze of rooms and twisting hallways to a small room near the back of the castle. The room was completely bare of any furniture except for a canopied bed under the window on the back wall. A small figure lay on the bed.

“May I?” I asked, stepping toward the bed.

The old lady hesitated. “Don’t touch her,” she said.

I walked over to the sleeping figure and looked down at her. She was beautiful. Her golden hair was spread on the pillow. Her eyes were closed, of course, so I had no way of telling what color they were. She was dressed in a short-sleeved nightgown with the letter “A” on the right shoulder. Under the letter there was a small stain. I leaned over and studied it. Porridge!

I turned back to the old lady. “Did you know that your sleeping beauty is a somnambulist?” I asked.

“A
what
?” She eyed me like I had just cussed in church.

“Somnambulist. Sleepwalker.”

“Oh,” she replied. “Why didn’t you say so? Yeah. She roams around the castle once in awhile. Doesn’t hurt anything and gives her some exercise.”

“Well,” I said. “She ‘roamed’ a little farther the other day. She ended up in a house that was owned by some pretty irate Bears.” I waited for the old lady to digest that bit of information. “She could have been hurt. Lucky for her these Bears are relatively harmless.”

The old lady blinked. “You mean she’s been gallivanting through the forest?’

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, I’ll be…” she grunted. “That’s because Alfred left the bridge down again.” She put her hands on her hips and mumbled angrily under her breath. “Did she do anything wrong?”

“Nothing serious,” I said. “She ate some porridge and slept on someone’s bed. The Bears will claim she broke a chair, but I think Papa is just trying to get a new one out of the deal. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

She nodded. “I’ll lock her in her room if I have to. Can’t have her traipsing through the forest in her nightie. Shameful!”

“Well,” I said. If what I hear is true, some prince will come along soon and wake her. Don’t lock the door.”

She snorted. “No self-respecting prince would want her. This dame is just plain lazy.” She glared at the reclining figure. “You should have heard her when she stuck herself with a needle. Why you’d a thought she was going to die! Falls down on the floor and moans and carries on. Then she gets up and goes to bed. She ain’t done a lick of work since.” She scowled at me. “Prince, shmince. Those things only happen in fairy tales.”

True enough
, I thought. I couldn’t argue with that. Besides, it was none of my concern. I said my goodbyes and left.

I straightened the matter out with the Nurseryland police. They decided the whole affair was a tempest in a teapot, and marked it “Case Closed.” Papa Bear was furious. Greta, of course, was extremely grateful. That is until she got my bill. I haven’t seen her since. Meanwhile, Aurora slept through it all.

END

BOOK: The Porridge Incident
12.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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