The Hood

by Ashley G.

Once upon a time in a small village amongst the mountains lived a little girl. Her mother and grandmother doted on her borderline excessively. They adored her so much they even had her clothes made exclusively for her. That’s where I come in. That’s right, I’m the red riding hood which some may argue made the girl.

I made her so beautiful and fit her so well that everyone began to call her Little Red Riding Hood. Little Red loved me and went nowhere without me. So you can imagine my pleasure when on a dreary day mother sent her, or better stated us, to take some butter and cake to her ill grandmother. Of course, being the insufferable angel that she was Little Red (and I) set out immediately.

When I say it was a dreary day I mean the kind with fog so thick you can hardly see five feet from your face. The kind with a bone chilling wind in the air. The kind that I had absolutely no desire to be out in. But what do I matter? I am merely a garment of clothing.

So here we are wandering through the woods with some cake and a pot of butter when we happen upon a wolf. Now I’m just an article of clothing so perhaps I’m not the sharpest crayon in the box. However, I’ve always figured that if you come across a wolf on a dreary day in the middle of the woods you should run, or hide, or do anything but go near the thing. Apparently no one shared that memo with Little Red, though, because I bet you know exactly what she did next.

Little Red walked up to the wolf and greeted him happily. He proceeded to ask her where she was going and in an act of pure obtuseness, she told him. She even went so far as to challenge him to a race there, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he has four legs and she has two. My only hope was that the wolf had a polyester allergy or at the very least the good sense that fabric does not settle well in the stomach.

When we arrived at the house there was no sight of the wolf. Little Red smugly assumed that she had beat him there and triumphantly entered the house of sweet ole gran. She sat the cake and butter in the kitchen and went into gran’s room where she was resting in bed. Only it didn’t much look like gran.

“Gran, I met a wolf in the woods and challenged him to a race here. You’ll never believe it but I won! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Yes, child, absolutely wonderful. Now remove your clothing and come into bed. You can tell me all about it.” Gran said to Little Red, only it didn’t sound like Gran.

“Okay!” She obliged, giddy at the opportunity to brag. Little Red placed me in a chair by the bed with the majority of her other clothing. At this point, I was just glad to be off of the child’s sweaty head. I will admit that I was curious so instead of finishing my crossword puzzle I aptly tuned in to the scene on the bed.

“Gran, what big arms you have!”

“All the better to hug you with, my dear.”

“Gran, what big legs you have!”

“All the better to run with, my child.”

This didn’t sound right to me. I pulled from my memory an image of Gran the last time I had seen her. She was a small woman who had become even more so in her old age. I realized who was in that bed just in time to tune in to the end of their conversation.

“Gran, what big teeth you have!”

“All the better to eat you up with, dear!”

And with that, Little Red was history and so were my days of misery. I did always wonder, though, what had ever become of poor Gran.