Little Red Riding Hood liked to sleep in on Sundays. On this particular Sunday, however, she awoke unhappily at 8:37 am to the sound of her mother shouting her name from the kitchen. Little Red Riding Hood dragged herself out of bed, put on her infamous little red riding hood, and headed downstairs.
"Little Red Riding Hood," said her mother, "I need you to take this basket to your grandmother's house. If not, Grandmother will certainly go to jail."
Little Red Riding Hood peered into the basket that her mother was preparing. A tin of cookies and a bottle of prune juice concealed an array of fake Vera Bradley purses. She let out a dramatic yawn and squinted at the morning sun that poured in through the window.
"I wish Grandmother would stop involving herself in the counterfeit purse business," mumbled Little Red Riding Hood as she pushed open the Lazy Suzan and grabbed some Pop Tarts.
While her mother prepared the basket, Little Red Riding Hood sat down at the table and picked up the front page of the newspaper. She skimmed a lengthy article entitled "POLICE CLOSE IN ON NOTORIOUS PURSE DEALER BIG BAD WOLF." No wonder Grandmother was in trouble. Little Red Riding Hood knew for a fact that her grandmother was in cahoots with the Big Bad Wolf.
Little Red Riding Hood said goodbye to her mother and headed out the front door to begin her journey to Grandmother's house. A winter sun beamed down on the golden, countryside hills, but the chilly November air still bit at Little Red Riding Hood's fingertips. She lugged the basket of cookies, juice, and counterfeit purses down a cobblestone path that wound through the countryside and eventually entered a patch of dark woods, where Grandmother lived in a small, country cottage. Little Red Riding Hood had often begged her Grandmother to move closer, but Grandmother claimed that the secluded cottage was better for business.
By the time Little Red Riding Hood had followed the path to the forest entrance, she could feel the old fears welling up inside her. She had never liked travelling through the forest, and her dislike intensified as she stood before the mass of shadowy trees. She treaded cautiously along the ominous path, which had changed suddenly from crunchy cobblestone to soft dirt and leaves. She was willing to risk trekking through the forest for her grandmother. After all, what would happen to Grandmother if the Big Bad Wolf planned to pay her a visit?
The meandering forest path seemed to slither on forever through an endless maze of towering trees. Little Red Riding Hood's arms ached from hauling the basket, which seemed to have gotten heavier since she entered the woods. She was about to stop and rest on a comfortable-looking rock when she noticed the roar of an engine revving up behind her. Within seconds, a tremendous motorcycle came thundering past Little Red Riding Hood, who had leapt into a mulberry bush just in time to avoid being seen. Little Red Riding Hood had glimpsed the rider for only a few seconds, but her keen instincts told her that he must be the Big Bad Wolf. Or perhaps she knew from the license plate, which read "BBDWOLF."
He must be headed for Grandmother's house, Little Red Riding Hood thought to herself. Strengthened suddenly by a second wind, Little Red Riding Hood ran down the well-trodden path with all her might, her red riding hood billowing behind her. She had to reach Grandmother's house before the Big Bad Wolf did.
Finally, Grandmother's cottage appeared before her in a small clearing. Little Red Riding Hood thought the cottage appeared somewhat forbidding with its pale windows and disheveled-looking lawn gnomes. Little Red Riding Hood gasped as she noticed a large motorcycle propped up on the straw-colored front lawn. The infamous counterfeit purse dealer known only as the Big Bad Wolf was already here.
Little Red Riding Hood carefully set down her basket before tiptoeing up to the front door. She hoped that her grandmother and the Big Bad Wolf were still on good terms, considering the investigation that could send both of them to jail. At any rate, Little Red Riding Hood did not want to leave her grandmother alone with a vicious fake purse dealer. She gathered up her courage and tapped lightly on the blue front door.
"Who is it?" cried a hoarse voice from inside the cottage.
"It's me, Little Red Riding Hood."
Little Red Riding Hood heard some sort of shuffle from inside the cottage before the hoarse voice replied, "Go away, Red Riding Hood. Now's not a good time."
"Grandmother, how hoarse your voice is!"
"The better to tell you to go away with, my dear."
Red Riding Hood shifted nervously before the front door. She could not take this any longer. She had to get into the cottage and make sure that Grandmother was okay. She took three large steps back and clenched her hands with determination, preparing to break down the door.
At that very moment, a whir of sirens erupted from behind Little Red Riding Hood. Several police cars came speeding up the path and screeched to a halt on Grandmother's front lawn. Before Red Riding Hood had had the chance, eight uniformed police officers were breaking down the door with a battering ram. Little Red Riding Hood stood back as the police officers entered the cottage shouting warnings of arrest. Certainly the police officers would save her grandmother from the Big Bad Wolf. Everything would be fine now.
To the surprise of Little Red Riding Hood, the police officers emerged with her handcuffed grandmother.
"Hey! Why are you arresting my grandmother? Why aren't you arresting the Big Bad Wolf?" shouted Little Red Riding Hood.
"This isn't just any grandmother," replied a stocky, red-faced police officer with a mustache. "This is the Big Bad Wolf."
Red Riding Hood gave the police officer a flabbergasted look. What was he talking about?
"But what about that man on the motorcycle?" she cried desperately.
"That's my motorcycle," Grandmother suddenly spoke up from beneath her dotted, periwinkle scarf. "Giles was simply returning it."
Little Red Riding Hood couldn't believe her ears. "But what about that hoarse voice I heard?"
"I have a cold," said her grandmother, "Sorry for the trouble, Red Riding Hood, but the jig is up. Take me to the slammer, boys."
And with that, the police cars sped away with Grandmother, a.k.a. the Big Bad Wolf. Little Red Riding Hood went to her basket and gulped down the prune juice she had brought for her little, old grandmother. She was angry that she hadn't been able to sleep in that Sunday. But on the bright side, she hadn't been swallowed whole.