One bright and gay day, Little Red Riding Roy’s mother said to her, ‘You better get your sorry ass dahn your Grandma’s and back ‘ere before the shop closes or they’ll be fackin’ hell to pay.’ Little Red Riding Roy, gesturing to the television, said, ‘But mother, look, there are wolves everywhere lately, surely I can’t go out at this hour?’ With that, her mother clouted her around the ear with the back of her hand.
‘You’ll get fackin’ wolves,’ she shouted over her, yanking Little Red Riding Roy off of the sofa by her pigtails, ‘if you don’t get my fackin’ vodka!’
So Little Red Riding Roy skipped down the stairs, onto the street and onward to Grandma’s. On her way past a pub, she bumped into the Big Bad Wolf.
‘Hey Little Red Riding Roy, what’s up?’
Little Red Riding Roy trembled, more with excitement than with fear, though it would have been impossible to tell between the two.
‘Mother is sending me to my Grandma’s, again,’ she replied, inferring why that might be the case by emphasising the word again.
‘Ah yeah,’ the Big Bad Wolf said warmly, ‘my mum’s been at it again aswell, but she’s stopping tomorrow, like…’ The Big Bad Wolf beamed a big, bad smile; Little Red Riding Roy giggled at the joke, which she didn’t find funny, and blushed to the roots of her dishevelled hair.
‘Well—’ she stuttered, intoxicated by the mixture of fear and excitement, ‘I really best be off now, goodbye.’ And she skipped along down the street, away from the Big Bad Wolf, and toward her Grandma.
The Big Bad Wolf pinched a pushang from outside the pub and paced it to Little Red Riding Roy’s Grandma’s house. The Wolf could not find a point through which he could break in, so he rang the doorbell. Two eyes peered through and disappeared from a slit in the blinds covering the front room window. The Wolf rang the doorbell and rapped on the door repeatedly, belying the urgency with which he sought to break into the home.
The Wolf heard the Grandma squawk, ‘Get outta ‘ere or I’m phoning the police!’
He had not one moment to lose. The Wolf turned and walked out of the house and, sneakily running down the adjacent side-alley, scaled its wall and heaved himself up on the roof. Opening the roof window, he lowered himself into a jungle. Bright bulbs shone from the ceiling; tinfoiled shimmered like tinsel. The attic was thick with flowering vegetation growing out of metal roots suspended in midair. It was pungent. More greenery boasted itself inside these few feet of space than in the few furlongs outside of it.
The Big Bad Wolf opened the trapdoor and spotted Grandma at the bottom of the stairs, she was looking out of the letterbox and then concernedly at the iPhone in her hand. The Wolf dropped down from the trapdoor, slid down the banister of the staircase and plucked the phone from Grandma’s hand, pressing his paw over her screaming mouth.
Locking Grandma safely unconscious in the wardrobe, the Big Bad Wolf sat down on the sofa, next to a table piled with plastic bags full of this same vegetation.
The doorbell rang.
The Big Bad Wolf greeted Little Red Riding Roy at the door of her Grandma’s house, giving her a shock.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said, suffused again with the mixture, more heavy on the fear than excitement, ‘and where is my Grandma?’ She looked past his imposing figure worriedly, seeing nothing of suspicion through the door, apart from the Big Bad Wolf stood in it.
The Wolf raised a bag of buds the size of a small pillow. ‘I’ve just been talking with your Grandma?’ he said, his big eyes and bad smile both widening. ‘She’s only popped to the shop Little Red Riding Roy, she said she’s getting some bits and bobs and I need to stay put and keep watch.’ He squinted at her. ‘I’m not sure what she’d say about me letting in a lady of the night,’ the Wolf went on, backing away from the door and raising a powerful paw to guide her into the front room, ‘but I kinda like your pigtails.’ Little Red Riding Roy giggled helplessly.
She walked through the door, failing to hide the smile on her face, straining to calm the butterfly blizzard brewing in her stomach, and went into the living room and sat on the sofa.
‘You know what, your Grandma rocks; how she shat out that she-dragon mum of yours is beyond me.’ Little Red Riding Roy, again, giggled, helplessly. The dose of fear came with double the excitement.
‘Don’t!’ was the most spirited defense of the she-dragon she could muster, more due to butterflies than brains.
The Big Bad Wolf walked towards Little Red Riding Roy—then Grandma’s phone rang. He looked at her, and looked at the phone fizzing on the table. He quickly grabbed it and read on its screen the words, ‘Jay Emergency No.’
‘Who’s that?’ said Red Riding Roy, perturbed by his reaction. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Pfft—nobody worth speaking to,’ the Wolf replied coolly, cancelling the call and sliding into the seat next to his prey. He turned to her, locking her gaze, and said, ‘Your mum might be she-dragon,’ gazing still deeper into her eyes, ‘but she gave birth to an angel.’ Another giggle.
‘You know,’ Red Riding Hood stuttered again, but was willed on by her excitement, ‘you have the nicest voice.’ He edged closer, growling deeply, eliciting another helpless giggle. His eyes bore into hers, radiating wickedness; her eyes absorbed it, reflecting pure innocence.
‘And, you know,’ she went on, feeling herself blush, ‘really nice eyes, too.’ The Big Bad Wolf edged closer still. His big, bad smile appeared again, seething with cynicism; Little Red Riding Roy smiled back, happily, helplessly; hopelessly.
‘And, your smile,’ she started, but was interrupted by the Wolf’s phone ringing again. He pounced upon it immediately, as if he were preparing to do so, and saw on the screen, ‘Jay Emergency No.’
Little Red Riding Roy screamed. The Big Bad Wolf looked up to a man mountain, imposed in the entry to the front room, wearing a balaclava, raising a weapon from his hip. He shot a silenced handgun at the Wolf, who dived to cower beside Red Riding Roy, chancing that the mountain might then show mercy; but bullets riddled both bodies fatally, leaving them in a hairy, bloody, lifeless mess. The gunman holstered his weapon, answered the buzzing phone and informed Jay of the situation.
Grandma awoke to a scream, and herself screamed from within the pitch black of a wardrobe. Jay’s henchman released her. Grandma walked into her front room. Little Red Riding Roy’s corpse sat crumpled over the Big Bad Wolf’s, both bleeding into each other’s hides.
At that moment there was a knocking at the door, or rather, a banging with a fist.
‘I know your fackin’ in ‘ere! Answer the fackin’ door you little shit!’
It was Little Red Riding Roy’s mother.