Title- Little Red Riding in the 'hood
Summary- Little Red Riding is in the 'hood. And not is all as it seems.
Disclaimers- My first fic, written in creative writing class on a lark. Will be edited later for mistakes/finesse. Reviews are helpful! Enjoy. J
Remember that story about the wolf and the little kid with that really ugly red cloak? Yeah, I'm the wolf. And no, I didn't die. In fact, I'm living quite well.
See, that little brat didn't have snacks in that wicker basket, she had crack. The high-quality stuff. And the grandma was some Colombian drug-lord contact with cash for payment. I was a special agent for the FBI. See, it's hard to pin drug charges on an eight-year-old, so we needed documented evidence she was a willing transporter.
I took out the drug-lord contact fairly easily. He wasn't very careful about friendly-looking dogs. He lost a hand for that. Dressing up as the Colombian, I waited for the devious child to show herself.
It didn't take long.
I saw her garish red coat from down the road and did a quick check of my surroundings. All clear. I pulled my handkerchief to cover half my face and waited. She skipped to the door and entered, calling "Grandma" in a sweet voice. As soon as the door closed, her voice changed.
"Where's the money?" she snarled, looking out the door for followers.
"In the briefcase. Show me the load," I replied. She held one up and I could smell the crack wafting from the basket. She checked the briefcase and nodded.
"We'll have another payment in two months," she said, turning to leave. With the evidence in hand, I leapt at her back. How could I have known the midget was packing?
Barely avoiding a bad shot, I landed on all fours. She darted out of the house, snatching both picnic basket and briefcase. She was screaming at the top of her lungs for backup, but they weren't quick enough.
I tackled her from behind and crushed her wrist holding the gun. She was babbling something about making a deal. That didn't go over well with her superiors later.
Something smacking into my side made me yelp and twist around to look at a tranquilizer dart in my side.
I woke up later in a zoo. They explained to me the bust had gone bad, and some poacher had shown up. The girl was now back at 'home', safe, while I was locked up to convince the public I was just a wolf.
It's been four months now. I saw the little girl the other day. They'd finally cracked the drug ring, but again the charges didn't stick to her.
She was with her new adoptive parents. They took her fits for tantrums… instead of withdrawal.