Little Red Riding Hood, with a twist

My name is Anthony D. Wolf. You’re probably here because you want me to explain my actions in the Little Red Riding Hood incident. To understand these events, you need to know a little something about me. Most people see me as a vagrant, a predator who exploits those weaker than me to satisfy my hunger; but they’re all wrong. In reality, I am a peace-keeper, one of the forest police department’s best. When I’m with my buddies in the break room, they call me “Inspector”. That’s my rank, as well as my nickname.

Most of my work is done undercover. I pose as a vicious predator, sniffing out evildoers and delinquents. What looks like an innocent bunny rabbit’s chewed up remains are actually all that’s left of a child abuser who got violent when faced with arrest. That’s just my job. So, how did Little Red get into all this? Well, I was investigating some deer droppings that had been left right in the middle of a clearly marked footpath. I followed the scent to a clearing where the offender, a homeless deer, had rested for the night. I was about to continue tracking him, when I
got a call that told me someone was moving on footpath F-26.

We’d been told that some human bootleggers had been using the F-26 to transport their wares, since it was out of most of our patrol areas. I got there as quick as I could, and waited in the speed trap to intercept whoever was coming through. I was surprised to see a juvenile female, clad in a red hood and cape, apparently some type of local gang apparel. I pulled her over, asked her why she was in the woods alone, if she was lost, if she wasn’t, then where she was going, and all the standard procedure.

The girl, who introduced herself as Little Red Riding Hood, (probably her gang
pseudonym) said that her grandma was sick, and that she was bringing her some “goodies”. I couldn’t search her or her basket without a warrant, but my nose told me that it wasn’t just soup and muffins in her bag. I would go into more detail here, but this is a kid’s story.

Anyway, I was able to find out the grandma’s address from Little Red, and I left her with a warning. She was walking about 10 MPH in a 5-MPH zone. F-26 is a scenic route, for your information. I got to the grandma’s house and knocked on the door. I had considered using entry maneuver EM-12, but that requires arms, a battering ram, and backup. Being a wolf and undercover officer, I have none of the three.

Instead, I did my best to impersonate Little Red’s voice, and to my astonishment, the lady fell for it! I entered the house to find distillers, beakers, and all kinds of equipment used for bootlegging, along with plenty of ingredients and items that
confirmed my suspicions. Of course, I couldn’t look around for long, because the lady saw that I wasn’t her granddaughter, and came after me with a shotgun.

We wolves don’t have opposable thumbs, so we don’t carry guns or handcuffs. To
restrain our “perps”, we’ve been trained to eat them whole for incarceration, or just eat them if they get violent. I wanted this lady to go before a jury, though, plus I was saving room for the coffee and donuts calling my name back at the station. As Granny took aim, I tensed my leg muscles, hoping that she would aim just right. One centimeter off center, and I was a wolf skin rug.

BLAM! In one smooth motion, I ducked and rolled to the right, just missing a table and a half-pound of buckshot. I leaped up into Granny’s face, and swallowed her without chewing. I fought the urge to gag as I caught my breath and thought of what to do next. Little Red was on her way here, and obviously she and her Grandmother were in cahoots. I racked my brain with ideas, and then decided on the craziest one just as Little Red appeared on the walkway. I slipped into one of Granny’s nightdresses, then I donned her nightcap and spectacles, which she’d left on her
nightstand.

Little Red seemed convinced at first, but as she started to pry me with questions, I saw her reach into her basket. Right as she remarked “My, what big teeth you have!” I heard the click of a Glock 40’s hammer being pulled back. I said, “The better to eat you with!” and pounced, gobbling up the little smuggler. I was reprimanded by my chief for using excessive force, but what can I say? I was raised by wolves!

I was about to start back for the station, when a woodsman, attracted by the gunshots, barged in with his ax at the ready. He stepped inside, and came between me and my badge, which I’d dropped during the scuffle with granny. Whether he was in cahoots with Little Red and Granny, or a vigilante, I didn’t know. All I know is, he sliced me with the ax, and I blacked out from the pain. When I woke up, Granny and Little Red were out of my stomach and probably on the next train to Mexico. I know they’re still out there, but I can’t follow them now.

After that debacle, I was given an early retirement as a reward for my bravery and to recover from my wounds. Now, I have a family, and I’m a consultant for the Wolf FBI. Although I am secure in my new place in society, sometimes I dream of a young girl in a little red hood, walking down the path with a basket in her hand and a smile on her face. And a heavy iron ball chained to her ankle. The End.