Little Red Dancing Hood and the Big Bad Wolf


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Posted by Dancer on April 16, 2001 at 16:55:07:

Little Red Dancing Hood and the Big Bad Wolf


[The Scene: It is a bright sunny day in the Big Woods, and a dark-haired girl in bright red cloak dances down the forest path carrying a bag of goodies]

Big Bad Wolf: Well hello, little girl. And where are you going this bright sunny day?

Dancer: I’m taking this bag of goodies to old Granny Scoggins who lives in the clearing down where the woodcutters work.

Big Bad Wolf: And what have you got there under your cloak – I mean, in your bag of goodies?

Dancer: Oh, some of Mr Papadapopolis’ world-famous stefado, feta cheese and haloumi, and then some dolmades with a nice bottle of white wine to wash it all down. Why? Are you hungry? There’s plenty.

Big Bad Wolf: Oh, I think I’ll wait and satiate my hunger later, little girl. I have… particular tastes.

Dancer: Okay. Well I’d better be off. After all, I was warned not to stray off the path or talk to strange men. They do say that a number of fair maidens have been vanishing in these parts in the last few weeks you know.

Big Bad Wolf: Really? It is shocking how young people just up and run away to the big cities these days, isn’t it? I blame TV and heavy metal music.

Dancer: Also, there was that building accident where a couple of poorly-constructed houses lost their structural integrity in high winds and the occupants were killed. Did you hear about that one?

Big Bad Wolf: It was in the local papers. I hear that a third house also had a narrow oink.

Dancer: You mean squeak.

Big Bad Wolf: Whatever.

Dancer: Well, I guess I had better be extra vigilant. Have a nice day, Mister Wolf.

Big Bad Wolf: Oh, I’m looking forward to it very much indeed.

[Later, at Granny’s house, where there are mysterious scratch marks around the lock on the door and feeble thumping noises coming from the outside privy which is blocked shut with a wheelbarrow.]

Dancer (knocking on door): Hello? Granny Scoggins? It’s Meals on Wheels.

Granny’s voice: Just open the latch and walk in.

Dancer: Hello Granny. I hope you are feeling better today after that bad problem with the goats’ milk soufflé last week.

Granny’s voice: All the better for seeing you, my dear. Come closer so I can have a look at you, little girl. Feel free to loosen any clothing that is bothering you.

Dancer: You sound very strange today, Granny. My, what big ears you have.

Granny’s voice: All the better to hear you with. Feel free to sit on the bed, I don’t mind.

Dancer: My, what big eyes you have.

Granny’s voice: All the better to see you with. No really, if you’d be more comfortable in just your underwear…

Dancer: My, what big fingernails you have.

Granny’s voice: I think you mean teeth. Teeth are next.

Dancer: But just look at your nails. I mean they’re like talons, and so filthy. Hold on because I’ve got a little nail-clipper in this goodie-bag somewhere and I can sort them out right now. It’s disgusting that Social Services don’t take care of old people living alone…

Granny’s voice: Look, forget the bloody nails, alright. I’ve got something else that’s big that I’m wanting to show you.

Dancer (rummaging in bag): Found them! Hold still, won’t take a minute. There. Doesn’t that feel much better?”

Granny’s voice: My claws! You’ve clipped my f&^%$£ claws!

Dancer: And frankly Granny, next time I’m bringing some depilation cream as well. Just because you’re old is no reason to let yourself go, you know.

Granny’s voice: Right, that’s it. It’s time for the big surprise, little girl…!

Dancer: Yep! Here! [hands over feta cheese]

Big Bad Wolf (for it is he): My nose! My ultrasensitive werewolf nose! Agh! What the hell is that??

Dancer: Off your food? Here, try this garlic sausage.

Big Bad Wolf: Ack! Get it away from me! Away!

Dancer: Are your allergies bothering you again, Granny? Perhaps I should rub on some of your embrocation?

Big Bad Wolf: Perhaps I should rip out your throat, you red-caped bitch!

Dancer: Now that’s no way to talk, even if Alzheimers is setting in. Besides, I’ve just filed your claws smooth. As for those big teeth… [Big Bad Wolf laps forward to tear Dancer’s flesh off but is stopped by her popping Granny’s false teeth into his slavering jaws] There. Now you’ll be able to chew your dolmades.

Big Bad Wolf: Aaagh! False teef wiv silver fillings! Get them out! Aaaaagh!

Dancer: You know, I’m starting to suspect that you may in fact be an impostor. In fact you may be the notorious predator who has been terrorising these parts for the past few months.

Big Bad Wolf, ripping false teeth out of his maw and shredding his way out of Granny’s nightdress: Of course I am, you stupid cow! And now I’m going to give you a slow and cruel death, my little chew-toy! Don’t count on any woodsmen saving you either, because I’ve paid them all off.

Dancer: What have you done with Granny, you wicked wolf?

Big Bad Wolf: Bimbo! I am Granny! Have been for months. It was easy to pose as a feeble old woman in a lonely house in the woods, and welfare services keep sending me all these pretty young women to tend to my needs. That thumping in the outside lavatory is this golden-haired kid I found burglarising the bear house over the other side of the forest. I’m saving her for later. You die now!

Dancer: My, what a big tail you have! *stamps*

Big Bad Wolf: Oww! Why you…!

Dancer: And what a big chamberpot you have! *wedges it on the Wolf’s head*

Big Bad Wolf (muffled): You could have emptied it first, you…

Dancer: And what a big temperature you have! *plants silver thermometer where it will do the most good*

Big Bad Wolf: Aaaagh!

[Big bad wolf leaps up, slips on embrocation, falls into feta cheese, recoils into fire, ignites own tail, screams for help and flails into grandfather clock, and gets knocked out when grandfather clock topples onto the back of his skull]

Dancer: What time is it, Mister Wolf?

[Later again]

Dancer: Thank you for helping me dispose of the werewolf, Xander. I was not sure what to do with a supernatural monster that prisons could not hold. What exactly did you do with it?

Xander: I gave him the address of another old lady and sent him on his way.

Dancer: What? But that is murder!

Xander: That’s a bit strong. Mind you, when he gets to Hagatha Darkness’ mansion he might be in for a bit of a shock, I suppose.

Dancer: *lives happily ever after*




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