Little Red Riding Hood
A Fruity Adult Fairy Tale with more twists than a twisty-turny thing By Miranda S Givings and Keli McTaggart
ONCE upon a time there was a very pretty little girl who everyone loved. Her hair was blonde, her eyes were blue and her lovely, slender legs went on forever. Well, that's not quite true, her girlfriends envied her cute nose and perky breasts, her mother hated her masturbating with her favourite wooden spoons and the boys just wanted to get into her pretty, red knickers, but we'regetting ahead of ourselves.Her grandmother really did love her (in a non-sexual way) and gave her a frilly red thong and amatching hoodie on her fourteenth birthday, which made the little girl very happy. Especially whenshe wore them while she was riding her wooden pony (in a shamelessly sexual way). And thatwas why everyone started calling her 'Little Red Riding Hood'—or 'Sticky Red Riding Knickers',behind her back—though her real name was Jennifer. One day when she was wearing her redthong and hoodie (and nothing else) and riding her wooden pony as usual, her mother peered ather through her thick, pebble glasses and said irritably: "Oh you're such a slut, Jennifer. Don't youknow you'll go blind if you keep doing that?""Oh, it's OK, mum, " she said with a giggle, "Dobbin can always see when I'm coming."Her mother shook her head sadly and said: "Look, here's some spliff and a bottle of Brandy. It'snot the best but she'll never notice the difference. Take them to your grandmother. She's been abit low lately. Some spliff and a few stiff drinks will cheer her up no end. You'd better start nowwhile it's still light before all the vampires and werewolves come out. Don't talk to strangers or stray from your path. For goodness sake zip that top up and pull that slutty microskirt down, or some smelly old man will rip those pretty red knickers off you and auction them on eBay beforeyou've even noticed they're missing. And when you get to her flat, don't go poking about in your grandmother's drawers looking for things to shove up your pussy. That's how your sister endedup in hospital.""I'll do everything right, mummy," Little Red Riding Hood promised. Her grandmother lived in StJohn's Wood, half an hour's tube ride from the Chelsea maisonette she and her mother sharedwith two impoverished BBC scriptwriters and a transsexual plumber, called 'Bob.' No sooner hadLittle Red Riding Hood entered South Kensington station and stepped into a carriage, than shewas accosted by an American werewolf. Hang on a minute...an American werewolf in London—on the Circle line, in broad daylight? Aren't we mixing up our stories here, not to mention askingfor a suspension of disbelief which is quite extraordinary? Look, this is a fairy story, okay? Thewhole point of fairy stories is that they're not remotely believable. Anyway, he didn't look muchlike a wolf when Sticky Red Riding Knickers—sorry, 'Little Red Riding Hood', met him; don't youknow anything about lycanthropy? Can we get on now? Right, as you may have gathered, LittleRed Riding Hood was a bit short-sighted on account of all the time she spent riding her littlewooden pony, but far too vain to wear glasses or contacts. So she didn't spot the telltale signsthat would have warned her she was dealing with a merciless lycanthrope rather than a veryhirsute stockbroker with a luxuriant beard and a sexy, American accent."Good afternoon, Little Red Riding Hood," he said politely. Wait a minute...how the hell did thewerewolf know her name? Well, it's obvious isn't it? She was wearing a black microskirt barelylargely than a postage stamp and had her bright red hoodie tied around her lovely neck. Justbecause he's American doesn't mean he's several votes short of a full majority, does it? He'dhave to be blind as well as stupid not to notice the frilly red thong riding high on her pert littlebottom. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone on the tube during a terrorist alert?" heasked."I'm going to my grandmother's."