Joshua O.

Propaganda I tell you, propaganda.  Once upon a time I was a normal wolf who kept to himself and bothered no one, until that incident with that ditsy blond girl.  It’s not like it’s unheard of for a wolf to eat a mammal, so what’s the big deal about me eating a grumpy grandmother and an empty headed girl?  In fact, I didn’t plan on eating either of them in the first place.  This is the unbiased story about what really happened, without all those unnecessary childish hyperboles.

I was walking leisurely through the woods, looking for an easy catch to quell my lunch time hunger, all the while reminiscing about my wonderful childhood filled with colorful fairy tales about heroic wolves who ate children who had lying problems, and overall minding my own business.  A piercingly off key hum suddenly rang into my ears as someone nearby stumbled through the brush of the forest path.  I was indifferent to the intrusion at first, until my sensitive nose discovered the scent of fresh food.  Dashing through the trees nimbly, I came upon a narrow winding path where a young blonde girl skipped happily and obliviously along, swinging a rather large basket all the while.  Naturally, the smell of the food and her extremely bright red cloak made me curious, so I trotted alongside, hidden from view by the undergrowth of the forest.  Curiosity never killed a wolf, as far as I know.  However, curiosity does kill annoying little children.

After following her for a short distance I came upon a clearing in the forest in which a small wooden hut sat, gray smoke peacefully billowing out from the chimney.  I knew the house and the old lady who lived in it.  Someone, I might mention, who I never bothered before.  I put one and one together and assumed the girl was somehow related, and was visiting.

I jogged ahead and arrived at the wooden cottage.  I sat down in the most refined and gentleman like manner I could manage with my rumbling stomach, and scratched on the door.  An old lady came to the door, and just as I began to look at her imploringly for food, she screamed, and began battering me with a broom.  Keep in mind that in self defense I had to eat her.  There were some brutal bruises from her broom I tell you.  Honestly, I’m lucky I came out of that alive.  No lie.

The old lady had rather good taste in clothes, so I felt obligated to try on her warm robe.  The cold of the forest was really bone chilling, so I curled up in her bed and rested snugly under the sheets.  That is when the girl in red approached me.  She surprised me with her sudden appearance, since I had forgot about her during that traumatizing encounter with the old hag.  That and I was a bit edgy because the same old hag did not agree with my stomach.  But my wolfish cunning quickly recovered, and I began to role play. 

I didn’t know her name, so I began calling her Little Red Riding Hood, along with pumpkin, sweety, my dumpling, and snoogey boogums sugar cheeks.  Also, I had my eye on the little basket stuffed with food that she held carelessly in her hands.  Soon enough, she began asking really dumb questions.

“My, my grandmother,” she would say, “What big ears you have!”

No duh, I’m a wolf, I’d think to myself, and then say “The better I can hear you with my dear!”

“My, my grandmother,” she’d continue, “What big eyes you have!”

They’re implants, I’d say inwardly, you like them? followed by a forced “The better to see you with my dear!”

“My, my grandmother, what big teeth you have!”

New dentures, I’d think, I just had them sharpened, “The better I can chew you up my dear!”

Uh - oh, I was busted.  Can you blame me?  She was annoying and extremely distracting with her bright red cloak, so I ate her.  But I did so all in good faith.  In fact, if I hadn’t done so, she would have probably returned with a few local hunters and see to it that I was finished.  I have a family you know, and who would support the children?  Furthermore, is it not completely natural that the gullible prey is destined to be eaten by the rapacious wolf?  And am I truly liable for my actions when my stomach overpowers my mind? 

Now, here I sit, a lonesome and dejected wolf, hunted by many for a crime that I committed unwillingly, confused under the circumstances.   Can’t you summon some faith and trust the word of an old wolf?  How can such a simple misconception be blown to such biased proportions?  And there you have it, the plain, untainted, and most importantly, truthful narrative of my plight, and my side of the story.