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Friday, October 31

Grimm Revision

"Grimm Revision"
Halloween Story
by Rod Drake

Let’s say it was Halloween; it fits, and it was close, definitely fall, with colorful leaves falling, all that season changing stuff. Anyway, the story was that one Redphenia (it was a family name and totally gross) R. Ryding, a typically bored and gloomy thirteen-year-old girl was making one of her frequent deliveries to Grandma (more on her later). It was a nice afternoon, and since she was too young for a driver’s license, she trudged on foot through the Grimm Forest, taking a familiar shortcut.

Being a tad cool, October and all probably, she wore her ever-present Gap hoodie, pulled tight around her little frowny face – yes, that’s right, she was known as Little (she was a small girl) Red Ryding Hood because she wore it so often. And the hoodie was navy blue, not red (surprised?).

Now back to Grandma. That was her code name; the old lady wasn’t blood-related to Red, but was actually the boss of a successful dope smuggling ring, hidden inside the alleged goodies that Red transported as a na├»ve and innocent-looking mule, for which she got free downloads for her iPod (another gift for services rendered). Without pension, savings or prospects, Grandma had turned to the lucrative field of under-the-counter pharmaceuticals.

Now in the forest on this autumn afternoon was a werewolf. Well, sort of. Harry Talbot was an odd kind of werewolf, one that turns physically into a werewolf by day, but keeps his human mind, and a man with a wolf’s mentality by night. The result of a mixed-up curse by a gypsy who stuttered.

Harry hid in the bushes, watched Little Red plod past, swinging her basket, and the fumes from the goodies overwhelmed him. He popped out onto the path and asked, as casually as he could, “Hey, what you got in the basket, and, uh, where are you headed? Does anyone know where you’re going, I mean, is anyone expecting you, would, you know, miss you if you didn’t show up?” He wasn’t the brightest werewolf in the forest.

Not slowing down or missing a beat, Red answered in a surly voice, “Goodies for Grandma, and she’s waiting for me. Not that it’s any of your business, fur face, so take off before I blow my rape whistle.”

Before I forget to mention, next to Grandma’s dope den deep in the woods (good hiding place) was a gingerbread house, where a teenage rock band practiced daily in the gingerbread garage. They called their group The Woodsmen, as it fit. In fact the lead guitarist, Hunter (of course) went to the same school as Red, P.S. 666, a real hellhole, where they had a calculated disinterested flirtation thing going on.

Red continued on her sullen way. Harry decided to beat her to Grandma’s house (he had the scent of the goodies now, and Grandma’s house reeked of them so he could find it easily). Once there, he knocked on the door, yelled, “Federal Agents!” and knew Grandma and her crew would high tail it out of the back door at top speed.

Deciding to dress in Grandma’s clothes so he could fool Red (remember I mentioned Harry wasn’t very smart) and capture her because after smoking and snorting all the goodies here, he would need something for the munchies, and Little Red looked tender and tasty.

Red showed up, knocked the secret knock, sauntered in and emptied the basket on the lab table like always. Grandma/Harry called to her from the bedroom; she hoped that’s where this trip’s downloads were.

Now Harry in drag didn’t look any more like Grandma than Seth Rogen looks like Halle Berry. Red wasn’t fooled for a moment. She blew her rape whistle at decibels so loud that The Woodsmen heard it over their speed metal music.

Hunter burst in, zip gun (he had made it in metal shop) in hand and quickly figured out the situation, firing it till it was empty into the dumbfounded werewolf who was busy clamping both paws over his sensitive ears. Red finished the job by jamming a silver replica paperweight of the Washington Monument right through Harry’s heart.

Well, this brought Hunter and Red’s budding romance out into the open, and she ended up joining the band as their new angry, strident lead singer.

And they lived happily ever after. At least for a while.

Rod Drake hopes the Great Pumpkin visits all of the Fictional Musings writers and readers this Halloween. Check out Rod's other stories posted in Six Sentences, Powder Burn Flash, Flashes of Speculation, Flash Forward, MicroHorror and AcmeShorts.

1 reactions:

Kelly Parra said...

Thanks Rod!!