Kyle Janzen
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
The Little Red Riding Gun
(The Ending Edited Out of the Little Red Riding Hood)
Red Riding Hood, after delivering the meat pies and getting a local male to kill the attacking wolf, began to walk home, unaware that the wolf pack waiting in ambush had attacked and killed the man, her grandma, and had eaten the cakes she had delivered. They were after her now, following her scent.
She stopped after catching an odd the woods on her way home. She carefully scanned the bushes.
A growl.
Her head snapped to the left. Some beady eyes stared at her from within the bush. She carefully reached for her machine gun. She had made sure to keep it hidden as she scurried out of the house. She was truly all for herself. The wolf was just a furtherer in her plan to dominate her town. Nobody realized that this cute girl in red had this devious plan. She didn't want to waste the bullets on the wolves, but it looked like this was her only choice.
She grinned evilly, tore off her robe, and revealed a machine gun, and an amount of bullets that were too numerous to count, plus a handgun fullty-loaded, and a black leather jumpsuit. She was a midget-assassin who had tired of everyone making fun of her short stature. She had also tired of everyone calling her a kid.
She hooked up the machine gun, and fired a hail of bullets into the bush. Instantly whining and howling were heard. One leapt out at her, but she riddled it with bullets so fast it looked like a copper statue. The wolf fell to the ground with a clang. Blood soaked the dirt path, even oozing out of the bushes. She grinned again. Laughed aloud. Fell to the ground and rolled in the dirt with laughter. She was finally going to get her revenge! Revenge! REVENGE!
She walked into the bush and dragged out a motorcycle. She started it up and sped into town, gun spraying, shooting everything that moved. There were no houses without bulletholes in them.
Within exactly one hour, down to the thousandth of a second, the whole town, except her friends, were dead.
She smiled, and blew on the exit of the barrel. She wasn't fully satisfied with the bludgeoning of the town. No… she needed more. She sped around a corner, crashed through her bedroom wall and retrieved another of her hoods. She applied a quick paint job to the motorcycle and her red riding hood, and rode off into the sunset. The black paint read: RED RIDING GUN.
The moral of the story is: Don't mess with a small person.