And the survivors lived happily ever after, although mum was busted for drugs shortly afterwards.
Little Red Riding Hood went on the game, did turns around Kings Cross in London and, of course, got the clap. She generously passed this on to a rich client who occasionally liked to slum it. She photographed him on her phone in a compromising position, blackmailed him and yet still sold her story to The Sun.
She is currently in the Witness Protection Programme and lives, secretly, or so she thinks, in St Lucia. But with a conk like that, who's she fucking kidding?
Meanwhile, Little Red Riding Hood ignored all that commotion. By good fortune, she could now polish off all her late Granny’s goodies, the cakes, the biscuits, the doughnuts. She wandered off home through the copse as she wolfed it all.
The cops arrived quite some time later and, confused as to what had happened, ran after Little Red Riding Hood and when they caught up with her, questioned her to try and help solve the mystery of the granny and the ‘tranny’. When it came to solving crime, they clearly thought Little Red Riding Hood had a nose for it.
With that threat, the wolf, who was too impatient to wait for Little Red Riding Hood to say the obvious “What a great big mouth you’ve got!” opened its great big mouth, ready for dessert.
Then suddenly Granny, inside the beast, must have jiggled and the wolf let out an enormous belch, propelling Granny upwards and out like a rocket. This may be a fairy story, but I have to tell you that it wasn’t a happy ending for Granny, who broke her neck as she hit the ceiling, but did crash down onto the wolf, snapping its neck too.
“What great big eyes you have Granny!” she told the wolf, who replied “All the better to see you with my dear!”
“Hmmm! What a great big nose you have Granny!” said Little Red Riding Hood.
“You can fucking talk!” said the wolf, unable to take his great big eyes off Little Red Riding Hood’s monster conk “Have you looked in the mirror recently?”
Little Red Riding Hood, unaware of her rapidly extending nose, probably because her eyes played merry hell with perspective, ignored him.
“Now, now Granny, don’t be a cheeky old cow or I’ll take the basket back.”
"Come and sit on the bed dear. Show me your goodies!” commanded the wolf.
At this point, Little Red Riding Hood, who was quite well developed for her young age, was a bit wary and hoped it wasn’t that kind of a story!
Nobody, not even a granny, should ask little girls to show them their goodies! But she went and sat there next to the wolf with the basket from her mother anyway. She looked at Granny’s face under the bonnet. It confused her, although she figured that her poor eyesight might have had something to do with it.
Little Red Riding Hood was standing outside the door. She decided she would take the piss out of Granny.
“It’s Bing Crosby, Granny!” lied the girl, adding “who the hell did you think it was, you old crone, the Big Bad Sodding Wolf?... Haha!” Although she wasn’t aware of it, her nose immediately grew a further two inches.
“Oh lovely… come in dear, come in. The door’s unlocked.”
Little Red Riding Hood peered round the door, nose first and hearing Granny in the bedroom, bounced in gaily. “Hi Granny. Gotcha! It's not Bing Crosby… it’s me, Little Red Riding Hood!”
Time was now of the essence for the wolf, who quickly rummaged through the old lady’s drawers and found a pretty nightdress that would accommodate his engorged state – well he was now dressing for two... and chose a bonnet that would cover everything but his face. Hearing Little Red Riding Hood’s voice in the distance giving out some dirgy gangsta-rap, the wolf, looking very fetching, hopped into Granny’s warm bed and pulled the bedclothes tight up to his throat. Little Red Riding Hood rapped at the door.
“Who is it?” called the wolf in his best grannylike voice.
Granny took one look at the wolf who wasn’t carrying anything remotely like goodies.
She said. “Well where are those goodies, then? I can’t see them.”
The wolf went “Hmmmph!”, as wolves sometimes do.
Granny added “You don’t look anything like my granddaughter Little Red Riding Hood. Your nose is far too big!” The wolf thought, but didn’t say, ‘Have you seen her conk recently? She’s been telling lots of porky-pies to her mum and her nose… it grows.’ But the wolf simply couldn’t be arsed and quickly swallowed the frail little woman whole. He was hungry after all.
So the sweetieless wolf decided to slink off…. But you know the story. When he was out of sight, he raced off to Granny’s house, knocked on the door of her bijoux cottage and lying in her bed, Granny called out weakly “Who is it?”
Ever so politely, in his littlest of little girl voices, the wolf called “It’s me, Little Red Riding Hood, Granny. I’ve a basket of goodies for you.”
“Oh lovely,” exclaimed Granny, delighted, “come in won’t you, the door’s unlocked.”
Quick as a flash, the wolf burst into the cottage and bounded through to Granny’s bedroom...
“Oh lovely…” said the wolf, slobbering as it licked its lips. Who’s it for then?”
“It’s for my Granny across the wood. So you can push off mate, sharpish!... Unless that is, you’ve got some sweeeeties?” she smiled, fluttering her overly made-up eyelids. (She’d pinched the make-up from her mum who always tarted herself up every night before heading for the boozer.)
Little Red Riding Hood didn’t really expect a wolf to be roaming around the woods with lots of sweeties, but she would try anything (which later in life would get her into a lot of trouble).
Gertie was amusing herself, and because she was short-sighted, she didn’t notice a wolf approaching her from the darkest part of the wood. The wolf startled Little Red Riding Hood, and really surprised her when it started to speak to her.
“You’re Little Red Riding Hood, aren’t you?” asked the wolf politely.
“What’s it to you if I am?” retorted the little girl rudely.
“Oh nothing…” replied the wolf nonchalantly. “What have you got in your basket little girl?”
“Cakes and biscuits and doughnuts… and a bottle of milk stout if you must know, but it’s not for you!”
As she wandered on, her lie somehow reassuring her mother, Little Red Riding Hood experienced changes unbeknownst to her. She didn’t know, (why would she, as this is on loan from another fairy story), but as she lied, so her nose grew bigger and bigger.
Now I’m sure you all know the story… Little Red Riding Hood didn’t hurry along to Granny’s house. Instead, she tried, unsuccessfully, due to her short-sightedness, catching butterflies so she could pull their wings off one by one, trod on snails, threw stones at birds’ nests and climbed trees… like every naughty little girl.
“Whatever you do, go straight to Granny’s house. Don’t talk to any strangers along the way. The woods are dangerous!” called her mother after her, suddenly lowering her voice at the end lest one of her neighbours heard, given that one of them, she didn’t know which, had dobbed her in to Social Services once before on the basis of her heavy drinking.
“Don’t worry Mum, I promise I won’t speak to any strangers” lied her daughter over her shoulder, adding, under her breath, “let’s hope someone offers me some sweeties, because this poxy ice cream won’t bloody last long!”
Mother was hoping to get away with a cheapie ice cream, but she only had a Magnum in the freezer. She wished it was a Magnum 45 handgun, as she would quite happily have shot her daughter right there and then.
Then, with goodie basket over her left arm and ice cream in her right hand, Little Red Riding Hood started off for her grandmother’s house along the path through the woods. As Little Red Riding Hood traipsed off, miserably, her mother got a rare pang of conscience. Realising what a rubbish mother she was, she called out to Gertie…
Realising that a bribe of an ice cream was inevitable, mother said “Oh alright then, when you get back.” Little Red Riding Hood wasn’t so stupid though as not to realise the potential for being cheated out of this treat, so she countered “Don’t be daft, Mum, how can it make the journey more tolerable if I only get it when I’m back? I want it NOW!”
Her mum sighed. She’d been outmanoeuvred by this little monster, so went to the freezer (nobody said this story took place in the olden days, did they?) to get Gertie an ice cream.
Keen to get out of a boring trek to Granny’s, Little Red Riding Hood argued, “Shouldn’t you go to see Granny yourself as she’s your mum after all?”
Gertie wanted to stay at home and play with her dolls, with her cloak inside out.
“I couldn’t possibly go and leave you in the house all alone.” declared her mother. Little Red Riding Hood wasn’t smart enough to understand the irony of this assertion.
Gertie stamped her feet, screamed, cried crocodile tears, and then asked, “Can I have an ice cream then, to make the long journey through the wood tolerable?”
The woman’s daughter, Gertrude, was called Little Red Riding Hood by all the neighbours in the hamlet. Gertie was extremely unhappy about the red cloak but agreed after her mother made it reversible, with pink on the inside… that plus a bribe of a large bucket of chocolates. And the frames of the spectacles Gertie wore, on account of her short-sightedness, were pink too.
One morning her mother said to Little Red Riding Hood. “Please take this basket of goodies over to your Granny, otherwise she’ll only moan and groan to her neighbours again that I’m a crap daughter.”
Once upon a time there was a little girl who lived in a hamlet by a forest. It was a hamlet, not a village as local pigs were pigmies. The girl’s favourite colour was pink like most of the other girls, but her mother insisted on her daughter wearing a red riding cloak. She rationalised this by arguing that anyone seeing the red cloak would know whose daughter it was among all the other pretty, cissy, pink girls and secondly, red is for danger, so if anyone interfered with her daughter, she would beat the living crap out of them.