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"LITTLE RED RIDING WHORE"
By: Fythring
Warning! Contains some very inappropriate words.

On a chill autumn morn, little...okay, so she was 19...Erica was feeling terribly depressed. Her dear old grandmother, living all the way out in the forest must have been lonely for quite some time. Erica's crackhead mother was often much too stoned to pick her droopy ass off the floor. So there was no hope that she'd be able to take Mother with her.

Erica pondered on what she could do for her Granny Dearest. Suddenly, it hit her!

She picked up the brick that flew in from the window and hit her, and put it in a basket. Reaching into her silly box that her ever-stoned mother called a "fridge", she pulled out a couple of eggs, a pat of butter, and a small bag of flour.

"What is Granny Dearest going to do with these?" she asked herself. Suddenly, an idea came up to her!

She brushed her cat away from her sore nose, and replaced everything in her basket with a banana, Vaseline and a Playgirl magazine. Satisfied finally with her choice, Erica started to skip out into the frosty air.

"Where're you goin'?" Erica's mother rasped.

"Out to Granny Dearest's," she replied.

"Why'd you wanna ever see that old hag?!"

"Mother, it isn't nice to speak about Granny in such an ill manner."

"Go stuff a cow you stupid cunt." Erica only giggled.

"The insanity is only temporary mother. Oh, and where is my cloak?"

"Check in the wash, I ain't doin' it for ya!"

Erica went over to a flooded closet with a soap bar floating around in it. Her mother called this the laundry room. Erica reached into it, but could not find her red cloak. Sighing, Erica reached into a higher-up cupboard.

"Bye mother," Erica said when she next left the house - clad in a red leather Santa costume. She started skipping merrily along the path that lead into the forest.


Meanwhile, there were others lurking in the forest. There was a wolf - standing for some reason on its hind legs - prowling around for food. Suddenly, the scent of a meat pie called to him from a villager's counter. The wolf stalked the scent around the corner of a few trees, heart set on his search. Finally, he found it!

There was a freshly baked meat pie cooling on the corner of old granny Lillian's house. He reached for the pie - good, it was already sliced!

"My sweet..." the wolf mumbled raspingly to a slice of pie. Suddenly, there was a big, burly black man holding a wooden spoon standing over the pie - a hard leer was on his face.

"Why! Um - Granny Lillian! I um..." the wolf stammered. Granny Lillian's face twisted into a cold glare.

"Damn, nigga!" Lillian shouted. "Who said y'all could take Lillian's pie? HUH?!"

"No one?" the wolf replied in a meek voice.

"Damn right, no one! Bitch, y'all better pack up yo' show 'fore Lillian goes crazy black woman on yo' narra' ass!" And with that, Lillian slapped the wolf with her wooden spoon.

The wolf ran away, screaming in pain.

"Damn bitch," he muttered to himself. "I'll get that pie somehow..." And the wolf stalked away, a dark plan unfolding in his mind.


Erica was part way into the dense forest, her basket flailing behind her. Her chest of wonders bounced as she went by - which just happened to be noticed by a lonely beggar.

"Say, miss..." he called to her. Erica stopped in her tracks.

"Yes, sir?" she asked, whirling around - it made her chest bounce even more.

"That's a nice volleyball set ya got there," he chuckled, fidgeting with his fingers and coming closer to her. She winced at the sight of him.

"That's...cute," she said dismissively, about to take of into the forest. He grabbed her.

"No, no, stay awhile. You'll find old Leroy's a bit more fun than he looks."

Erica gasped, leering at him. Her voice suddenly took on a different inflection.

"Um, no way, grody old guy? That's like, soooo nast!" The old beggar pulled Erica closer to him, grasping at her chest and trying to lap at them with his tongue. Erica screamed and with her free hand, elbowed him in the side.

"You're like way uber-nast, get out of my face!"

Without waiting for a reply, Erika lounged on him, her heels digging into his shoulders. She pounded her feet into his shoulders as if she were marching - hard.

"Ay! Stop that!" the old man growled.

She kicked off of him, and out of nowhere, brandished a sword and held it tightly in her fist. Erica lashed at him, the end of the blade cutting angry red stripes into his skin. In a stunning constant pirouette of blood and metal, she spun around, slashing at the old man. By the end of her attack, the beggar was on the ground, bloodied.

"Okay, okay!" he rattled. "I'll back off!" Erica was unpleased with the insincerity in his voice. Dropping the sword, she put her two hands together and aimed them at him.

"KAME-HAME-HA!" she shouted, and a bright blue flash erupted from her palms and blasted him. He evaporated - all that was left of him was a dusty residue. Pleased with her victory, she picked up her basket and walked into the forest once more.

"FATALITY!" a deep voice boomed.


Once again, the wolf returned to Lillian's cottage, guided by the aroma of the meat pie he longed for. He was sure his plan was foolproof!

He arrived at Lillian's cottage. She was at her jukebox, dancing and singing along to the song.

"When the sun shines, we shine together, told you I'll be here forever, said I'd always be your friend - took an oath and I'ma stick it out to the end."

The wolf cringed at her horrid singing, and placed a steaming plate on her counter. He jumped around out back, awaiting for the next sound to come.

"Damn!" came Lillian's exulted exclamation. "Someone done leave this nigga chicken and waffles!" The wolf chuckled, pleased with his own joke. He stalked back to the window again, peering into the kitchen.

"Oh, LAWDS! Is I in heaven?" Lillian giggled gleefully as she gorged down the chicken and waffles. She was turned to her jukebox, resuming her singing with a full mouth.

"Whm th summ shin, we shin tugeffer, tuld you all be herr farevr, sad I almwvs be ya frmd - took an oaf and I'ma stuck em out terr the emd."

Groaning, yet finally relieved, the wolf took the meat pie and gorged it down. Within seconds, he had finished it all...

Lying on a rock behind Lillian's cottage, the wolf slept peacefully. His belly was full but he was about ready for more. Suddenly, he heard growling breaths coming from above him.

"Nigga done crossed the line now," Lillian mumbled. "Nigga done steal Lillian's pie." As Lillian reached for the wolf, he clamped down on her arm. Lillian screamed - and soon those screams vanished as Lillian was swallowed whole by the wolf.

With his belly now full, the wolf rested once more.


Erica arrived at her granny's house. She was surprised - and relieved - to not hear her granny singing in front of the jukebox. Still, it was strangely quiet. It was even dark within the cottage. The door was ajar; Erica pushed it open.

The inside was cold and dank; very uncommon for Granny Lillian's house. She felt around. There seemed to be nothing recognizable. Suddenly, Erica fell - and her ankle was chained.

When she next awoke, her foot was chained to a pipe, and the lights were white and blinding. There was a dead man lying a few feet away from her, lying in a pool of his own blood. To her horror, his eyes were still open - and they were staring right at her. Erica backed away, and suddenly felt something on her hand. It was a saw.

"Welcome Erica," said a deep, static voice from somewhere near.

"Who is that?!" she called uneasily.

"I want to play a game Erica. For years, you have been spying on the lives of others, unable to see the beauty in your own..."

"What?"

"...and you haven't been very good to yourself. Yes Erica, I see the drugs and the heroin you stick in your arm. And I've seen all the bloodied razorblades..."

"Um...?"

"...and you haven't been brushing your teeth. Very, very bad show..."

"Dude, what the hell?"

"Live or die, Erica. Make your choice." And the voice faded. Erica lay still in the room, unable to figure out what to do. She looked around the room, unable to find anything of any use.

Except for the saw. Erica picked it up; caressing the cold jagged teeth of it. It glimmered only dully in the fluorescent light of the cold room. A gloomy realization came to her.

"He wants me to cut my foot," she said to nobody, wearing a faint smile. As she toyed with the thing thoughtfully in her hands, she lowered it closer and closer to her ankle. Slowly, slowly, it neared her dainty little ankle. And soon it was on the bone. Ever so daintily, she brought the hacksaw back and forth across her ankle.

Suddenly, a rabid wolf burst through the wall.

"AAAHHH!!" she screamed, throwing the saw at it. The saw landed square in the wolf's temple. It died instantly. Erica knew then what had happened to her grandmother.

"You bastard!" she cried to the dead wolf, tears rolling down her red face. "You killed her! You killed Lillian! I hope you die!" The wolf's rolled back eyes rolled back even farther.

"Die, die, die, die!" she screamed at it, pummeling weakly with her fists. The wolf gave no sign of life. Erica wiped the water from her face.

"Good job, eh?" a voice from outside said. It was a hunter, Erica noted. She stood up - and the shackle around her foot broke. She peered at it carefully.

DOLLARAMA
Made in China

She breathed a sigh of relief, and turned back to the hunter and the dead wolf.

"Ya, eh?" the hunter mumbled. "That's a real bad case of bein' et alive, eh?"

"Yes..." Erica sniffled. She kicked at the wolf's limp foot. No reaction.

"If the wolf only et Lillian about an hour ago," the hunter drawled, "maybe she's still alive, eh? Seein' as he could only et her whole, eh?" A glimmer returned to Erica's eye.

"Maybe so!" she said hopefully. "Well go ahead - cut him open!" The hunter obliged, and with his ax, he slit the wolf's bulging stomach. By the time he could see the pink of Lillian's robe, he stretched the flap of skin open.

"Granny Lill -" Erica started. But only Lillian's dissolved remains spilled out, plus a few pieces of meat pie. Her pink nightcap was the only piece of clothing not melted.

"What a bummer, eh?" the hunter sighed. Erica walked around the wolf's carcass.

"I'm sure you deserve a reward," Erica said humbly to the hunter. She gave him her basket.

"Oh sure, why not?" He rummaged through it. "Oh nice, eh? A brick, a banana, some Vaseline...and Playgirl!" Erica scrunched her eyebrows, and reached for the Playgirl magazine.

"Wait, I'm sure you won't need that..."

"Won't need it?" the hunter exclaimed. "Do I ever!" And with that, he skipped merrily down the forest path, a rainbow trail of gay pixie dust flowing behind him.

fin.

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