Many writers have shared their thoughts with the public:

"There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they'll take you." - Beatrix Potter

"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." - Anaïs Nin

"Sharing your writing, being enlarged by others' writing, is what makes you feel famous." - Gretchen Bernabei

"Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain-climbing, treadmill and childbirth." - Edna Ferber

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." - Ben Franklin

"One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones to form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment." - Hart Crane

"There are three rules for writing. Unfortunately, no one can agree what they are." - W. Somerset Maugham

Little Red Riding Hood - Who Was She Really?

You know how Some people are given nicknames the opposite of what they are? For example, a large person is nicknamed ‘Tiny,’ a bald person is called ‘Hairy’ and a red-headed person is called ‘Bluey?’

Well, so it was with ‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ In the olden days the stress was placed upon the little but as the years rolled by and the story was passed from one generation to the next, Red Riding Hood actually took on the persona of a small person.

I am here to tell you now the original, uncut, unedited version, and if it shatters the innocent illusions of some naive, gullible youngsters, then so be it. The truth must be told.

As you must have gathered by now, Red Riding Hood was huge, enormous, GIGANTIC. Not only that but she was a selfish, greedy creature who cared nothing for anyone but herself. Oh sure, she started off small. She was a late bloomer, so to speak, but when she did bloom, she didn’t just blossom, she burst out all over!

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Before we go any further, I should give you some background information.

As a tiny young thing, she was a little mousy, and the other kids picked on her. She told lots of fibs, hoping to make them leave her alone. The lie she used most was: “My Dad’s a policeman and he’ll sue you for harassment,” but the other kids just laughed and persisted with the bullying. It was ten times worse when it was discovered her father was an unscrupulous tinker, when he knocked on the door of one of her classmates, trying to peddle his wares - some of which had ‘fallen off the back of a truck.’ Most of his stuff fell apart on the exact day the guarantee expired.

Red Riding Hood’s mother was a slob of a woman. She spent much of her time in the kitchen, thongs on her feet, curlers in her hair and a cigarette dangling from loose, over-painted lips. She took copious swigs from what appeared to be a water bottle but which actually held cheap vodka, most of which came from the same dubious source as her husband’s wares. Not surprisingly, her eyes usually held a rather glassy look.

So in all fairness, one can’t really blame Red Riding Hood for the way she turned out.

Despite her mother’s lack of finesse, the lady, (for want of a better word) had one redeeming grace - she could cook. Even if the odd fall of cigarette ash ended up in her gourmet dishes, her pastries melted in the mouth, her soups made the saliva flow and the delectable odours emitting from her kitchen had the King’s chef grovelling for her recipes.

So when Red Riding Hood was bullied at school, she would bribe her tormentors to leave her alone with tasty titbits from her mother’s kitchen. Unfortunately, the poor snivelling girl was not immune to the tempting morsels so she ate as much as she gave away.

It was around this time that she started to grow. Whereas most children have episodic growth spurts, Red Riding Hood had one long one.

Now as all parents know, when their offspring start to grow they develop insatiable appetites. Red Riding Hood already had one so when she began to grow she became an unfillable food disposal receptacle. Her mother worked from dawn till dusk, trying to keep her ballooning daughter satisfied, a futile task if ever there was one.

Red Riding Hood grew upwards and outwards. The kids stopped their teasing because Red Riding Hood became so large that if her swinging fist connected with another person’s cheek, that person could say goodbye to a mouthful of teeth! A dental refit, even back in those days, did not come cheap. It was about this time that the prefix Little was added to her name. She was furious but there was nothing she could do about it.

One day, Little Red Riding Hood’s Grannie, who lived in the heart of the woods, became sick. This stubborn old woman refused all sensible suggestions that she should move into a retirement village, so it became Little Red Riding Hood’s job to deliver food to her on a daily basis.

Little did her parents know that Little Red Riding Hood devoured every crumb in the food basket long before she reached Grannie’s cottage. She didn’t care a fig for her ailing Grannie and she resented this arduous trek into the woods every day, but she knew that questions would be asked if the old biddy died of starvation. So one day, when Little Red Riding Hood had finished the basket of munchies, she set about picking the various colourful mushrooms that were growing in abundance there. The only reason that she didn’t eat them herself was because everyone knows that all children hate mushrooms and they always will.

Anyway, Little Red Riding Hood had inherited some of her mother’s culinary skills, so when she arrived at Grannie’s cottage she took little notice of the old lady lying in bed. Instead, she set about cooking up a gourmet treat for her.

Now Little Red Riding Hood had been so busy eating from the basket during her daily visits that she hadn’t noticed the Wicked Wolf watching her daily routine. Wolfie, when he first saw this giant of a lass, realised that here was a meal he simply must have. She looked juicy and plump and food had been scarce lately. He was, in fact, starving (largely due to the fact that he’d been outwitted by three little pigs - but that’s another story), so he planned carefully and made his fateful move on the very day that Little Red Riding Hood picked the pretty mushrooms.

While she was picking, Wolfie ran ahead, broke into Grannie’s cottage and gobbled up the lady in one gulp. Poor emaciated Grandma didn’t even take the edge off his appetite, so he climbed into her bed and lay still, trying not to breathe too loudly, just waiting for the door to fly open. When Little Red Riding Hood arrived, she barely glanced at the bed before beginning the task of cooking the mushrooms. Wolfie had intended to eat her immediately but the odour of mushrooms being sautéed in butter, lightly seasoned, with a sprinkling of seasonal herbs and a dash of Worcestershire Sauce, cream and brandy, was too much to pass up, so he lay where he was and waited.

Satisfied with her cooking, Little Red Riding Hood took a spoon, intending to spoon-feed the old woman. In the past she hadn’t taken much notice of Grannie’s appearance, but today she felt a momentary twinge of guilt as she took in the bulging eyes, protruding teeth, and hollow cheeks. She was aware that old women sometimes got a little hairy on the chin, but Grannie looked in desperate need of a shave.

‘Oh well,’ thought the girl, ‘Perhaps she’ll feel better after a good feed.’ Dutifully, Wolfie opened his mouth wide and accepted the first mouthful of gourmet mushrooms. The stench of his rotten breath was so bad that Little Red Riding Hood recoiled in horror and was unable to continue her task, but fortunately for her, one mouthful of the delectable, but poisonous, fungi was enough to kill Wolfie instantly.

Little Red Riding Hood thought that Grannie had suffered a fatal heart attack. “Thank goodness for that,” she said. “No more trekking through the woods. Now I can go back to school and beat up some little kindergarten kids to give me their lunch money.”

And that is exactly what she did.