Little Red Riding Hood (as Told by the Wolf)

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD

(AS TOLD BY THE WOLF)

ALICE WOOTEN

           Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard of the story “Little Red Riding Hood”…cute little girl with a red cape. Sounds pretty innocent, right? Well, all that shines is not gold is what I say. You’ve heard it said that there are two sides to every story, well here is my take on this precocious, little cutie.

           So let me start by setting the stage. My name is Lone Wolf. I’ll explain later where I got my name. I live in a little hamlet with a very sparse population. Mostly woodland animals, some predators such as moi and a few human inhabitants living in adorable little cottages. By a few, I mean they are few and far between. We predators are tolerated with reservations… like as long as we don’t eat them. I know it sounds absurd, but it works for us. Take me for example, I like to invade neighboring hamlets where I am not known and well, nourish myself.          

I used to run with a pack of friends that I socialized with, but a few months ago, I left the pack. The alpha wolf of the pack and I had a big bruhaha and I decided to leave the group, thus the name Lone Wolf. I could have fought the alpha wolf, and would have been victorious, but I decided to leave and set out on my own. This is the hamlet that I now call home and I’m gainfully employed. I consider myself an entrepreneur—I collect tolls from visitors who cross the bridge that serves as the easiest access to our hamlet.

           So, one day I’m just chillin’ near the forest’s edge near the bridge when who comes along but a charming little girl with a basket.

“Hi there, young lady,” I cheerfully say as I slowly saunter over to greet her before she completely crosses the bridge.

“Hello,” she says cautiously with a smile.

“Who are you and where are you going, my dear?”

“I’m Little Red Riding Hood and I’m going to Grandma’s to deliver some home-made bread and jam.”

“Where does she live?”  

“At the edge of the forest, on the other side of this hamlet.”

“Well…I guess you haven’t been here for a while, but this is now a toll bridge. You have to pay me the toll…”

“Or what?” the confrontational little imp asked.

“Well…you have two options or you won’t be crossing the bridge today, Toots. Turn around and find another, more treacherous route to the hamlet through the rough terrain and thick forest with its underbrush, or…”

I paused to punctuate the gravity of the next option, “…or you can be eaten by the Troll that lives under this bridge who owns it. You see, I’m his toll collector.”

“Ha! A troll who collects a toll. You must be an out of work poet,” she defiantly stated.

“No, I’m the big, bad wolf you’ve heard so much about and I work for the troll who is even more vicious than I.”

“Well…” she started, then paused. I looked into her eyes to see if she was exhibiting fear—to my surprise, she wasn’t.

“Well, what?” I pushed for a response as I paced menacingly back and forth in front of her.

I saw her look at me, from my snout to the tip of my tail.

“Well…I happen to know there is no troll because the Billy Goats Gruff banished him at least six months ago.” With this retort, she placed one hand on her hip and stared at me.

 In the calmest voice I could muster, I uttered, “He’s back.”

Without a blink, she replied, “You’re lying. And wait a minute, I recognize you now. You’re Lone Wolf.”

“Yes,” I said boldly, “So you know a lone wolf can be just as dangerous as a pack.”

Little Red almost smirked as she said, “Maybe, but not you. I heard about you and your notoriety from folks a few hamlets from here. Something to do with pigs.”

Flabbergasted, I stammered, “I believe you have me confused with someone else.”

“No, I’m sure it was you and I’m surprised you’re still in this part of our country,” she stated as she once again looked at me, from nose to tail.

Oh dear, what has this auburn haired, little wench heard?

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve heard and I’ll tell you if I am that most notorious fellow. What did you hear?”

“Well…” she began tauntingly, “I heard that a certain wolf was supposed to bring back a pork dinner for himself and the pack.”

“Why that’s preposterous, I’m a vegetarian, why would I want to hunt for a pork dinner?”

She raised her voice, “Don’t lie, I know your game.”

Before I could reply, she continued, “This wolf tried to capture some pigs, but then resorted to attempting to take their homes away from them. This escapade created such a ruckus that the whole population of the hamlet showed up to watch. The story I heard said this lone wolf made one last resort to do down the chimney of one of the little pig’s house. Unknown to the wolf, the pigs had started a fire in the fireplace. The wolf’s hasty descent down the chimney resulted in him landing in the fire’s flames. He retraced his route and bolted from the top of the chimney, his tail on fire.”

“Who told you that, Red?”

“My cousin. She said the three little pigs danced victoriously outside their home as the wolf slinked away to nurse his burned tail.”

She glanced at my tail as she made this cutting, or should I say fiery, comment. 

“My cousin said the alpha wolf was upset and banished the wolf from the pack. Just look at that scrawny, burned tail you have. Does the story sound familiar, Lone Wolf?”

I tucked my tail and slinked away to contemplate my next move.

If Little Red Riding Hood told her story to anyone else, my pride and ego would suffer greatly. At the edge of the woods, I hastily developed a plan.

I know this hamlet better than she does, so I figure I can get to Grandma’s house before her and then get rid of her before she tells anyone else.

This little cutie must become my supper.

Excuse me as I execute my plan to take care of destiny.

Hope you all live happily ever after.