Hannah sat behind her desk and traced the graffiti scratches in the plastic with her finger tips. Oh, sorry, I meant I sat behind the desk and traced the graffiti scratches in the plastic with MY fingertips. I've been writing in 3rd person so much lately that its become default. The upside is that you really weird people out when you slip into 3rd person. Just imagine how handy it would be if you were approached by a creep:
"Hey, babe. Look'in for a good time?"
"The devious villian gazed at the wandering dame with ill intent. Had a simple trip to the grocery store turned into a desperate flight?"
"Wha- whad'ya say?"
"Hannah clenched her fists, all those grueling years of tai-kwon-do training under Jackie Chan resurfacing. This creep had no idea what he was in for."
"Seriously, whats wrong with you, Chick? You're acting kinda freaky."
"Hannah narrowed her eyes and slowly crouched. Freaky? This thug didn't know the meaning of "freaky". Hannah was about to school him in a vocabulary of pain this delinquent would never forget."
"Just- just stay away from me! Weirdo!"
"Hannah smiled in satisfaction as the villain fled into the darkness, his discarded cigarette hissing on the damp ground. Oh- was I speaking in omniscient third person?"
Anywho, back to my story. What...what was my story? Oh, right, Lit. Class. It was a normal Tuesday (exhausting, long, hungry, wouldn't miss it for anything) and I was sitting between Noah and Eric in my British Literature Class. My cheeks still glowed tomato red from my last class (Zumba) and the fact someone had left the heater on didn't really help things. By second semester my literature classmates must think I have a glandular problem or something because I always run into the classroom at the last minute in a flurry of papers, zumba gear, and sweaty hair.
I twirled one of my braids as Mom (also my literature teacher and Japanese teacher) drew triangular diagrams, Christmas trees, and little m 'n' m people on the chalk board. Confusing, yes, but it really does apply to literature. Its a plot line my mom likes to call The Christmas Tree Volcano. If you ever have a half hour ask her about it and everything will be made clear. :)
Today the class was supposed to take a classic story and apply it to the Christmas Tree Volcano Storyline, so we choose Little Red Riding Hood. One of the students put his head in his arms and promptly started to snore.
The Story of Little Red Riding Hood has never made sense to me in the first place. It has no plausible story line and it's moral is to stay away from talking, cross-dressing wolves. Seriously, what were the Grimm's thinking? "Hey, brother, lets write a story about a little girl who has no name that brings her sick Grandmother sugar cookies then gets eaten by a talking wolf! Yeah, and then, a random lumberjack could come and cut them out of the wolf's stomach and they'd go on a picnic. Great, yah?"
As we started getting into the plot and the why, where, who, what of Little Red Riding Hood, the students became more animated. We started throwing out our own ideas of how the story should go:
"Maybe the mother was a werewolf! She sent Lil' Red out and then appeared as the Wolf!"
"Don't you guys remember? It was all the bunny's fault! And the Shnitsel Man rescued Lil Red and Grandma. Duh."
"Yeah, and then the wolf was filled with rocks and tossed down a well."
"So does the wolf represent Satan? Who is Jesus then? And what was in the basket? They never actually say."
"Nah, man. Too Twilight. The wolf was a lupine alien that could speak English and needed the cookies in Red Riding Hood's basket for spaceship fuel."
"Ahhhhhh. How come we didn't guess that?"
"Class? CLASS! Just tell me if you think the wolf was evil or acted on animal instincts?"
You get the idea. Things were starting to get a bit bizarre. To myself, though, I started to wonder: Why Little Red Riding Hood? Was everyone in the fairy tale town identified by their clothing? As the class rambled, I started to compose a list of possible alternate names that the Brothers Grimm could have chosen:
-Little Green Hood
-Little Tulle Tutu
-Little Plaid PJs
-Little Corduroy Knickers
-Little Scarlet Cloak
-Little Pink Pants
-Little Floral Blouse
-Little Hawaiian Shirt
-Little Heavy Metal T
-Little Ripped Jeans
-Little Leather Boots
-Little Silk Socks
-Little Grey Wife-Beater (this really is the name of a piece of clothing)
-Little Frilly Underwear
-Little Polka Dot Bikini
-Little Khaki Shorts
The list goes on and on. If Little Red Riding Hood lived in the 21st Century her name would definitely go on the banned baby name list.
Also, I was wondering, what was the wolf thinking when Lil' Red was talking to him? She goes to see her sickly Grandmother and the first thing she says is: "My Grandma, What big hands you have!"
How rude, the wolf thinks. What if Grandma was sensitive about her large hands? Well you aren't small yourself, Lil' Red Porker!
Lil Red only makes it worse. "My Grandma, what big eyes you have!"
Wolf: True, but you must be blind not to notice i'm a WOLF. How stupid is this chick?
"Grandma! What big ears you have!"
The Wolf, teased since being a pup for his long ears, simmers in shame.
Lil Red really does it when she says: "Grandma, what big teeth you have!"
Thats. It. The wolf leaps from the bed and growls: "All the better to eat you with, My dear! Not all of us have health insurance and regular dentist appointments, Little Goody-Two-Shoes!ARRGG!"
Thats it for now, gotta go learn about Shorty Napoleon and tea taxes. Cheers!
Random Lumberjacks,
-Hannah
