And amusing
In her little red hood
Walking alone through
Suburbia with a
Basket on one arm
Full of goodies.
So you, the Big
Bad,
Shortened your stride
To match her four steps
To your
one.
"I'm not s'posed
To talk to strangers."
She
lisped,
While giving you the
Evil Eye without
Stopping.
"All right luv,"
you said,
"Name's William.
Now I'm not a stranger."
"William.
That's a
dumb name."
She replied,
"Boys should be called
Brandon
or Ford.
What kind of a name's
William?"
Good question.
But
it's yours,
Like it or not.
Anyway why should
The Big Bad
care
What an ambulatory
Happy Meal thinks?
Still, you play the
game:
"Where you goin', pet?"
"To Grammy Summers'
house."
The wee one replies,
Primly adjusting
Her red
hood, revealing
Blonde piggy-tails, "She lives
Two doors from
my house,
William."
She looks up
At you
again,
Her little feet in
Their lace ankle socks and
Mary
Janes pattering in
Counterpoint to your
Larger Doc Martins.
"And like wow,
What big teefs you have!"
Gleefully you bare your
fangs at her
And snarl, "The better to bite you with!"
Little miss in her red
hood
Merely giggles.
"My daddy does it better."
"Is that so, pet?"
"Uncle Ralph's a
dentist.
He made daddy fake
Halloween toofs."
Intrigued by
This
child's lack of fear,
You escort her unasked
Through the
jack-o-lantern
Darkness of a warm L.A. night
As the soccer moms
and their
Rubber-masked ankle biters
Swarm about you.
"That's Grammy Summer's House."
You crouch beside her
In
the lonesome shadows,
Hands on knees, long black
Coat puddling
around
Your feet as she
Points at a large
Ranch style house
With fake cobwebs
On the bushes and
A bedsheet ghost
hanging
From the palm tree out front.
Her eyes are huge in
the
Streetlamp as she wrinkles
Her nose, "Ewww, William,
You
smell all nasty,
Like an ashtray!"
Well, it's true
You
like a carton
Or six during the
Day when you
And your
lover
Quarrel- and
Lately you and your
Lover have
been
Quarreling a lot.
You smirk
"Don't
worry, pet,
My smell won't bother you-
For long." and give
her
A tittering laugh
As you light up
Yet another.
She rolls her
eyes-
Your stomach gurgles-
You'd best do it now
To avoid causing
A meal-disturbing ruckus.
However, this tiny
moppet
Is still amusing
So you let this bon-bon in her
Red
hood live
Just a fraction longer.
Unsnatched,
Little
miss marches
Up the sidewalk
To Grammy's house,
Past the
palm tree ghost
And a Lopsided jack-o-lantern
To the front
door
On the study legs
Of a five-year old
While you lurk
nearby.
She reaches up but
can't
Quite make the doorbell.
Little Red turns, and
calls,
"William, ring it for me?
I'm too little!"
She
then adds,
"Please?"
You oblige and she
says,
"Ewwwwww, what icky nails
You have. Your mommy
Needs
to trim them!"
"All the better
to
Grab you with, luv."
You say with a slow grin.
Around
your cigarette.
She rolls her eyes.
Your stomach growls
louder;
She's a sweet little morsel,
That comes with her
Own
desert, a big plastic
Basket decorated
Like a
jack-o-lantern,
Stuffed full of sticky treats.
You lunge at
her
Only to slam
Into the invisible
Wall of her
grandmother's
Threshold because
Grammy's opened the
door,
"Oh, look it's Little Red Riding Hood,"
And pulled
your easy
Meal into the safety
Of the cookie-perfumed
house
For a hug and a treat.
Puzzled, Grammy Summers
adds,
"Is that you Hank
Under that disgusting mask?"
But Grammy's question
Hangs unanswered
In the jack-o-lantern air.
Because you've
decided
To hunt elsewhere
For tonight's meal-
Saving
Little Red
Riding Hood
For later.