The Leiry Loop

Little Red Riding Hood

Once upon a cliché time, there lived a young girl who was known around her locality as Little Red Riding Hood. The reason for the peculiar, not to mention long name was this:  when her mother went to the city, she saw this really, really, really, red hood, but since she was broke, she didn’t buy it. Instead, when she got home, she dyed some rags red and gave it to her daughter. Her very naïve daughter took a liking to it and wore it all the time, not removing it from her possession. She even refused to take baths. And she stunk. Bad. She grew these little red pimples all over her face. And that was why she was called Little Red Riding Hood.

Now, Little Reddy Pimply Riding Hood had a grandmother who was a kind of a hermit-slash-recluse-slash-old hag who lived somewhere in the middle of a big bad wolf-infested forest. Apparently, her mom was psychic because, one day, out of the blue, she told Reddy that her grandma was sick, and she needed her to give her grandma some cookies—which wouldn’t help much, but she wanted to give it anyway to spite the old woman who obviously couldn’t eat sweets anymore. And so, Reddy, being the obedient, albeit stinky little girl that she was, accepted the errand without question.

Before leaving their humble abode, Reddy’s mom told her this: No matter what happens, don’t talk to strangers. Unless they’re handsome and rich-looking. Taking these words close to her heart, Reddy ventured off to the great unknown, unsuspecting of the dangers that lurked in the shadows and in her pockets (she had no money, I think that’s dangerous enough).

Like any other fairy tale, this story have a villain of sorts, and we got that in the form of a really evil animal called The Big Bad Wolf*. And guess what? He’s big enough to be the villain. He’s bad enough to be the villain. And most importantly, he’s WOLF enough to be the villain. Go figure.

Reddy was in the forest already then, skipping and singing happily, blah blah blah (think Dora). Unfortunately for her, the noise she was making, skipping and singing and all that, caught the attention of the Big Bad Wolf, who just happened to like to eat little girls in red riding hoods! How convenient, we got a pedophiliac villain! (Evil meter just shot up to two hundred percent.)

The wolf stalked her around for a bit and observed first. Meanwhile, Reddy stopped for a minute to look at the pretty flowers by the side of the road—wait; there was no road—by the side of a huge tree. She admired how big they were, and how bad they smelled. The wolf thought: Why the heck is she staring at those rafflesias?! And jeez, she stinks! Why, I feel like if I eat this little girl, I’ll be doing the world a huge favor! It’s like getting rid of a pest. The wolf crept behind Reddy, silently, like the top predator that he was. Then he got ready to pounce... in three, two, one... but woe! Reddy was faster, and she got away really quick, all the while screaming “Mommy” while running for her life. The wolf was not amused.

Good thing he knew how to teleport.

In less than two hours of non-stop running, Reddy arrived at her grandmother’s house: it was made of sugar canes, cakes, icing, chocolate, cookies, pastries and all kinds of sweets (two children, Hans and Greta, would find this house a year later, but that’s another story). After taking her sweet time—no pun intended—munching  on the house’s windows made of choco mousses, she finally decided to knock at the door. Grandma, if you’re still alive, I demand you to open this door, or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down!

There was a stifled laugh, followed by a cough that sounded like it was forced out. Then a hoarse voice: Come in, my child, I can’t move out from my bed anymore. The door is open. Enter the dragon. Reddy was so used to the epic failure of a humor her grandmother had, so she shrugged and opened the door, which creaked and cracked, and finally, tore apart into pieces. She wasn’t surprised, after all, the house was kind of an antique, and the sweets it was made of tasted like it was created a millennia ago. Not that it stopped her from eating them though...

Reddy went to the old woman’s bedside, laid the empty basket of cookies on the table (she ate the cookies half an hour ago), and stared with awe. Reddy realized that her grandma was really sick, but she was also relieved that there wasn’t any change in her appearance since they last met: she still looked like a wolf disguised as a grandmother. Little did she know that it was really a wolf disguised as a grandmother. Her grandmother.

My, my, grandma! Look, what big eyes you have! Red Riding Hood snatched her grandmother’s glasses away from her face and threw it out the window. I bet you can’t see me now! The wolf tried to hide his irritation, but failed: What in blazes are you doing, my dear?! Those eyeglasses were worth a month’s pay! You get that back, young lady, this instant! Reddy ignored it, however, and instead exclaimed: Why, Grandma! What big ears you have! To which the Big Bad Wolf disguised as her grandmother replied sheepishly: To hear you better, my dear! What I wouldn’t give to hear that lovely voice of yours! The girl frowned and said: Are you f*cking kidding me? Did you know, that they told me at school that I sound like a grasshopper-goat crossbreed?! Grandma, how dare you hurt my fragile feelings! You know full well—oh never mind, let’s just try it again. The young girl cleared her throat. Why, Grandma! What big, pointy, sharp, dirty, dangerous-looking fangs-slash-teeth you have! To which the wolf replied, now filling with anger: TO EAT YOU BETTER, MY DEAR, OBVIOUSLY!

Shouting like the wolf did, and someone was bound to notice. A woodcutter, innocently passing by Reddy’s grandmother’s house, heard the growls and roars of the Big Bad Wolf that followed. With his axe, he hurried to the scene—only to find out a huge, bloody, beaten-to-a-pulp, ripped-apart, dissected, and chopped-to-pieces body of an animal that he recognized as the Big Bad Wolf.

A note on the table read: Dear Mr. Woodcutter, you were taking too long so I killed my psycho grandma myself. I’ll just tell the people back home that grandma was already dead by the time I got to her and a wolf disguised itself as grandma, and you helped me kill it. You’ll be in the fairy tale now, most likely, even though you were a useless piece of sh*t.

Sincerely, Little Red Riding Hood

P.S. Don’t tell mom I was cursing.




*-not to be confused with The Big Bad Wolf in The Three Little Pigs story