We were
just kids. Children. Barely sophisticated enough to maintain acceptable
personal hygiene, much less tell right from mostly right from wrong.
At least
that’s what we tell ourselves, to justify what we did to that man that summer.
It was
summer, and we were kids, and naturally we were bored. So I suggested we be Red
Riding Hood and the wolf. We both wanted to be the wolf. Normally, I’d give in,
because it was hot anyway and being the wolf would make it even hotter. But he always got to be the wolf. We decided to
settle it in a fair and civilized manner.
We
wrestled. I won.
We trekked
though the forest. My thick pelt was hot,
very. My tongue lolled and dripped drool onto the forest floor. His golden
curls shone daintily where the light hit them. His vivid red cloak trailed
along the ground, collecting dusty dirty and crushed leaves at its edge.
We wandered
into someone’s yard. A dog was tied up, slender and short-haired and large. I
growled at it, threatening, for I was the wolf and the dog was merely a dog.
But the dog
started barking. Stupid dog. Is this normal dog behavior?
A man came
out of the house. “What the dickens is that infernal din for?”
We stood
stock still. We were stiller than we have ever been in our lives. Then, very
deep in my throat, I growled. I growled at the man.
The man
stared at me for a quiet second. Then the man growled back. The man growled at
me.
I turned
tail and ran. He was hot on my heels. That he didn’t trip over his too-big red
cloak was a small miracle. The man watched us flee.
We got back
to where we had started. I collapsed, panting, my tail wagging as if it could
somehow push more air into my lungs. He wasn’t much better, gasping for breath,
his cherubic porcelain face painted rosy red.
“Why… did
we hafta… run like that?” he asked.
I thought
for a bit. “It seemed appropriate.”
We sat
there for a moment, breathlessly silent. Then I said, “I don’t want to be Red
Riding Hood and the wolf anymore.”
We were
ourselves again, and as ourselves we walked inside.
To be continued. Maybe. What do you think? Too confusing? Yeah, maybe.