A Bleach fairy tale story for Conflagrant Sabre. Oh, dear me, if you're a super huge fan of fairy tales, don't read this! I bash all your favorite fairy tales down to little teeny bits until you can barely recognize them!

Once again, written from Hitsugaya's POV. Simply because it sounds better that way.

So how is everybody doing today? Wait. No. That's a rhetorical question, don't answer that, because, frankly, I DON'T want to hear how your day is. Seriously. I'm not some Oprah Winfrey here.

Anyway, if you think the people who make up fairy tales are the best people in the world, you should not be reading this. Because, frankly, all those stories were NOT made up, they were based on unfortunate happenings that, often, revolved around me in some way or another. Why? I have absolutely no clue! But that's just the way life is. Let's start with my story, shall we?

We all know the tale of Little Red Riding Hood. If you don't, because it is never safe to assume, then here's the compressed version of it:

Red Riding Hood goes into the woods to visit her grandmother, is attacked by a savage wolf and is eaten with her grandmother, and a vicious logcutter cuts open the wolf without harming either of them and lets them escape.

YEEEEAH. SO not what happened.

It was a bright and sunny morning...or, should I say, it was a DARK AND STORMY night. I was on my way to visit my grandmother, because, frankly, my dad was being a tool and had claimed that Grandmother was dying from a terrible disease called the COMMON COLD...Yeah, right! And then my mother, since I was already going out anyway, sent me along with a basket of cookies and biscuits for Grandmother...as if they would help her not go into the light. Frankly, as far as I was concerned, the old lady could just up and go anyway! Sweet mother of pigs, it wasn't as though she was doing anything useful...

And all that crap about walking three miles uphill both ways through the snow to school? Yeah. I'm not buying it.

So I was riding along on my ten speed, glaring at all the other happy citizens. I mean, if YOU had to deliver cookies to your not-so ailing grandmother, would you be happy? Now, honestly.

While I was riding through the woods, this vile creature came up to me. It was a wolf. Of course, it was no match for Hyourinmaru, because, well, I was a prodigy of fighting, even at that tender age. But, I guess, the tribe of wolves that lived in that sector of the woods were cannibal, for the scent of the blood attracted them like maggots to a rotten piece of meat. And then, before you know it, I'm being attacked by these wolves from all around and all that other shit, and for some reason the Mortal Kombat theme song was playing...

And then, this guy dressed gayly in a pink flower robe stepped out of the bushes and proceeded to do the Numa Numa Dance, which, of course, dispelled all the wolves instantly. Then, he walked up to me and calmly said, "Dearest son, please, do not fear. Those cannibal wolves merely can be repelled by the use of the dance and the Mortal Kombat theme song. Furthermore, you should always remember - ARE THOSE COOKIES?"

At which point, he snatched the basket away from me and began to stuff his face with cookies and biscuits, drinking some sake from a bottle every now and then.

I never got to Grandma's house. That's alright. I just told my dad that I'd been ambushed by a bunch of cannibal wolves doing the Numa Numa Dance and playing the Mortal Kombat theme song, and he believed me. I mean, strange things can happen in those woods, thanks to that atomic bomb that stupid Quincy Uryuu Ishida dropped here a few years ago...

ANYWAY, moral of story: Cannibal wolves can be repelled using the Numa Numa Dance and the Mortal Kombat theme song, and acting like an all-around mental person, fresh from the REHAB unit.

Okay. I mean, WHAT THE HELL? Whoever wrote those fairy tales sure was dyslexic, because, I mean, that's the truth up there, clear cut and dried and packaged up in one of those cute little UPS packages. Dude, seriously. How can you get that much farther from the truth? And for that matter, they got my name wrong too: In my youth, it was Little White Riding Captain. And my gender? HELLO! Do I really need to pull down my pants to prove this to you? I'm a BOY! Get it? B O Y! Jesus Lord, I don't get how you can mistake a girl for a boy! I know girls are supposed to be all innocent and shit, but THEY'RE NOT! THEY'RE NOT, I TELL YOU! Why do you think the majority of hookers and sluts and cheap whores on the sides of the street are WOMEN? BINGO!

And, by the way, I would think you'd have noticed by this time that I don't have BOOBS. I don't have massive squishy appendages protruding from my front, thank you very much! I can also see my toes, which also points to the fact that I have NO boobs! (Skyskater note: I actually can't see my toes when I'm undressed and standing up straight. And not because I'm fat, either. My mom actually thinks I'm anorexic.)

So, at any rate, yeah. If anybody should be writing the fairy tale stories, it should be me, because, frankly, I'm the only one around here who's actually telling the truth! I mean, really! You can't get much farther from the truth than that! And, of course, Grandma did NOT perish, as I had predicted she would, but my dad was still scolding me for letting some stranger come up to me and steal our hard-worked on cookies (which were Toll House by the way and not homemade as everybody would like to pretend), because he thought I might have gotten herpes or meningitis or something from strange men in flower robes. Or maybe he figured that I had suddenly caught a whiff of gayness and had decided to become bisexual, or, even worse, incestuous, overnight. Yeah. Somehow, I just don't see myself as the kind of person who would kiss my own father. Or my own mother, for that matter.

Yeah. But so this story is mainly just to tell all you American folks over there in the "Free Land" what really goes on in fairy tales. They just edit all the bad stuff out, you know, like STD's, sex, rape, incest, you know, all that good stuff that they find not appropriate for children. Well, if you are a child, you cannot blame me for violating your innocent little minds. This is RATED T FOR A REASON!

Next story that we shall be dissecting: Hansel and Gretel. What was really in those bread crumbs that caused them to glow under the light of the moon??