© Cupideros, Wednesday, November 24, 2010
(1, 249 words)

Little Red Riding Hood’s sad face stared at the door bobbin.  A smudge of chocolate stained the corner of her tiny twelve-year-old mouth.  She took a huge breath and slowly pulled the bobbin, and the door opened.

The Wolf, seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the bedclothes, "Put the chocolate cake and the little pot of butter upon the stool, and come into bed with me."

“I’m sorry, Grandma Ma,” Little Red Riding Hood said in a depressed tone.  “See.”  She opened the tiny pale yellow picnic basket.  “All gone.”  She ran up to the east side of the bed and hugged Grandma Ma.  “I tried and tried hard not to eat it, but I was feeling sad . . . so sad.”
Confused the Wolf hugged Little Red Riding Hood back.  She felt better.  She ran over to the other side of the bed and hopped on top the bed covers pinning him to the bed. 

Little Red Riding Hood noticed her Grandma’s one arm outside the bedcovers.  “Grandma Ma, what big arms you have!”

“Big arms give better hugs to depressed Grandchildren, my dear.”
Little Red Riding Hood shrug her petite shoulders and pulled her red hooded cap down off her blonde head.  “Yeah, I saw this wolf all crumbled up dead, roadkill on the dirt road.”  Little Red Riding Hood started crying.  “And—and that’s not all, Grandma Ma.” 
“Tell me everything, dear child,” said the Wolf waiting his time.  He adjusted his white cap over his big long ears.

“Then while entering the forest, I saw a young wolf limping.  His paw seemed cut off.”
The wolf grabbed his paws putting one on top the other. “Go on, child.”
“I wanted to help it, but was afraid its parent might come and eat me up.”  She cried some more.  “I forced those thoughts out of my mind, like I know you’re doing Grandma Ma.”  Little Red Riding Hood sniffled.  “I heard a loud whine and saw a bear carrying off the parent male wolf probably.”  She raised the clean bottom hem section of her red hood to wipe her nose.  “Oh, booo hooo, now I’m being gross.”  She tossed the hem of her hood down onto the bed.  “Grandma Ma, what big nose you have!”

“All the better to cook dinner for you, my dear.  When I’m healthy.”

“Anyway,” continued downtrodden Little Red Riding Hood, “I met this hairy, big hairy Woodcutter.”  Little Red Riding Hood shuttered as if lost in the tundra past the German Black Forest.  “It was in that snarly place in the woods, by the creek, you know the place, Grandma Ma.  If some ruffian caught one there, she’d be done for--Trees lying horizontal almost three feet above ground.  Little shoots of treelets and naked bushes without leaves, and steep cervices and many rocks.  How could I escape? 

“He didn’t harm you did he?”
“No.  He merely asked for my destination.  But, but since I felt trapped in that place, even,” she sobbed some more and retrieved the sodden hem of her cap.  “Even after telling him to my Grandma Ma’s I felt defeated and depressed.  Life just isn’t fair for little girls or fair maidens.”  She burst out crying.  “That’s when it hit me.  Girls don’t matter!  Girls don’t matter!”
The Wolf saw this as his chance.  He reached out to pull Little Red Riding Hood over, when she jumped up. 
“I kept walking and saw this wolf all gutted out.  Someone killed it, a big large, proud wolf, and didn’t even care for his pelt.”  Little Red Riding Hood snarled.  “They just murdered it!  For sport you know, Grandma Ma.”
The Wolf lay back against the bed boards feeling depressed and sad.  Little Red Riding Hood put her knee and thigh back half sitting on the bed.  Her Red Dress rose up above her knee.  Her waist cincher squeezed tight around her waist.  Her tiny shoulders squarely facing into Grandma Ma’s face.”

His ears slipped out from under the white cap, when he turned to listen more carefully Little Red Riding Hoods story. 
“Grandma Ma what big ears you have!”
“To listen more carefully to you, my child.   Continue . . . continue.”

“I couldn’t figure it out.  I’m so young,” she kept going on sadly.  “I don’t matter, wolves don’t matter.  I am no better than a wolf, a dead wolf.  A wolf dies on four paws, but what’s the difference if a girl dies on two legs?”  She stopped abruptly.
Feeling very traumatized the wolf managed a raspy, “And?”
“That’s when I ate the chocolate cake.”  She looked sympathetically at Grandma Ma big nose.  “Gosh this sickness has swelled your nose something awful.”
“Did you eat the cake in one gulp?”
“Yep.  I'd wolfed it down as those woodcutters’ say.”  She turned back to the small table by the bed.  “I still have the butter though, Grandma Ma.  Can’t we cook something delightful with that?”
“I could use some chocolate cake after that rather dismaying, dispirited story.”
“That’s exactly what I said before eating the chocolate cake.”  She smiled.  “I thought if I was in the clutches of a big wolf and he bit my foot, he feel all melancholy.”  She held out her bare pale arms and said, “If this wolf snack on my arms, he’d feel my despondency and downcast.”  She raised her dress high on her thigh and said, “If that mean wolf chomp down on my smooth young thighs, he would feel discouraged and debased.”  She stuck out her tender neck to the wolf, “If this wolf ripped my throat, he feel so sick he vomit.  She pulled the cape away from her budding, red dress covered, chest and said, “If the lucky wolf tore into chest and ate my fair-maiden beating heart, Grandma Ma, he’d feel grim and gloomy forever!”
“Enough, Enough!” cried the Wolf.  He started tearing off the white cap, Granny’s pink satin bed shirt and long pants as he scrambled out of the bed.  He tugged to get the pink satin long pants off his big hairy legs. 
“Oh!—My Gosh! You’re not Grandma Ma at all!  You’re a wolf!”
Pointing a long dirty fingernail attached to his hairy fingers attached to his hairy paw attached to his hairy arms which was of course attached to his hairy body, the Wolf said, “And I wouldn’t eat you all up if you were the last little girl on earth, naked and plump, scared for your life and I had not eaten for 365 days!”  He stormed forward toward the door, pulled the bobbin and walked out into the cool fall weather.

Little Red Riding Hood waited for ten minutes gazing at the opened door.  She blew her nose on another side of her red cape.  She stared out the door.  She checked the length of her nails.  She glanced at the door ajar.  The wolf kept walking, then he got down on all fours and started trotting, then running.  Until he was finally gone over a huge ridge leading down into the valley.

Little Red Riding Hood started giggling.  “Mom said, a little psychology would go a long way, if I ever ran into trouble.”  Little Red Riding Hood hopped off the bed, shut the door.  She picked up the butter pot and went into the kitchen to make some butter cake.


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Literature Classical Music History Feminism Tao Te Ching Prosperity
Confidence Meditation Love Think and Grow Rich Suze Orman Mythology
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