Little Red Riding Hood walked home through the woods wearily, her beautiful red cloak matted and sticky with wolf saliva. She had had a rough day, as anyone familiar with her story well knows. Her empty picnic basket knocked against her knees as she walked, and her fist clenched the bunch of flowers she had picked for her Granny, now withered and limp (not her Granny, the flowers. Although, come to think of it, her Granny was looking a little withered and limp too, after the day she’d had.) Red finally reached her own front door and pushed it open. There in the front entrance stood her mother, arms crossed, mouth pursed with disapproval, eyes blazing. Uh-oh, thought Red.
Of course Red got in trouble. She was horribly late, and hadn’t called. The fact that the Big Bad Wolf had eaten the phone did not absolve her, since it was her fault that the Big Bad Wolf was in Granny’s house in the first place. Red’s mom sent Red’s dad out to make sure Granny was okay (she was) and yelled at Red quite extensively. Continue reading