My bladder was full and I had to relieve my Jack-in-the-box. I had just returned from a long winter spinning tales of the macabre. But the webs wouldn't let go.
Up a flight of stairs from the maw of the dark. There I had spent months sharpening my quill and tattooing my sins with lobotomy ink. "But it tastes so good!" Most of the time I spent reading The Three Bears.
The scream coming from a book of Grimm's fairy tales as I followed a trail of fallen pages. Stained with tears of memories spent when I was but an author's apprentice. My writing had gone stale and I couldn't make gingerbread stick to a house.
I had recently made friends with an itsy-bitsy tarantula with the cutest red hair. She said it shine because she used Selsun Blue, like Goldilocks.