Little Bobby was bored out of his mind. Here he was at a family reunion in the middle of a forest of all places. Why couldn't they have had it at Las Vegas or at his house? Anywhere but here! At least that was what he thought until he saw what looked liked a little girl in a red riding hood huddling in the corner.

"Oh, it's a little kid relative of mine." Then the 'kid" looked up. The 'kid' was a little old lady, so advanced in age, so ugly, so hideous that for the first time in his life, little Bobby was scared out of his fragile little mind. The little old lady just looked at him and then responded.

"Who are you calling a little kid you %&*? I'm your frickin' grandmother and don't you forget it you lazy %&!" Little Bobby, however, was not that easily scared out of his wits and quickly regained his composure.

"Why 'Grandma', what a big mouth you have."

His grandmother simply starred at him again.

"You know, you remind me of a poem I can't remember, and a song that may never have existed, and a place I'm not sure I've ever been to." Little Bobby blinked.

"I'm sorry, I phased out; what did you say?" His grandmother scowled again.

"I was in the middle of telling you a story, the memory of which that was brought on by that little insolent hole set in that melon on top of your neck." She cleared her throat before continuing.

"Now, I began to grow more scared than she had ever been in all my life, and my voice trembled when I said, 'Oh, Grannie, what great-big-teeth-you've-got!'" "And Wolfter replied 'The better to eat you with-"

"Excuse me, where did this come up, in the tabloids?" Grandma blinked for a second, then mumbled.

"Godd*** Generation X offsprings…Well, I might as well start at the beginning of my tale given that thanks to television, you can't remember what happened eight minutes ago."

"Well that much is true."

"Shut up! Anyway, when I was a little girl, I used to wear a red cloak with a hood to it, so that the neighbors better knew me as little Red Riding Hood. I was such a lovely little girl, all pretty and nice."

"Oh, that would've been the day," grunted Bobby.

"Shut your trap! Anyway, I lived in this very house here. One day, my mother asked me to deliver some groceries to my dear old grandmother." "Well, being the little girl that I was-."

"-And having gotten out of line when they God was distributing human brains-."

"You're describing yourself, whippersnapper! I merely got lost in the dark words that lay in between our houses. Well, I would never had gotten back on the path had it not been for a nice wolf."

"A 'nice' wolf? Wolves are carnivore, they eat people like us!" The Grandmother sighed.

"Well, now that you mention it, he was a wee bit scary."

"Explain."

"Well, he walked with a limp because one of his legs was missing and where his leg should have been, there was nothing but…Patrick Duffy." The boy just starred at the old woman.

"Patrick Duffy? Where did that come from? I mean, come on, Patrick Duffy is not THAT scary."

"What do you mean; did you ever watch 'Step by Step'? Never mind. I think that it could have also been Mothra."

"Mothra? Grandma, I may be only eight, but I am fully aware that fact that one of Godzilla's primary adversaries would have better things to do than help you." But the grandmother would not go so quietly into the night, nor would she vanish without a fight.

"Well, as I was saying, he asked where I was going and I told him that I was going to grandmother's house. He said that he would race me there and the first one to arrive would-."

"-would be involved in a copyright violation of not one, but TWO Grimm Brothers' Fairytales."

"Oh, come on! They've been dead for five hundred %$& years. Honestly, who really gives a flying fig?"

" A what?"

"Silence, I will not tolerate your insolence. So, whoever got there first would win a prize. Well, we went out separate ways. But due to any number of reasons, namely that the forest could throw around the dimensions of space and time, he arrived first and alas, devoured my poor, little grandmother and dressed in her clothes" Little Bobby shuddered briefly at that thought, but another question thankfully replaced it.

"Did you ever get his name?

"As a matter of fact, I did. He had said that he was a Mr. Hannibal Wolfter, but it really doesn't matter now. After some time, I arrived and founder 'her' in bed. Due to my lack of oxygen over an extended period of time, I didn't immediately recognize her. It was finally I noticed several odd features, specifically, eyes, nose, ears. So then I stated, 'Oh, Grannie, what great-big-teeth-you've-got!'" "And Wolfter replied 'The better to eat you with my dear.' as leapt out of bed, fangs barred."

"However, he had underestimated one simple fact about me or rather one item of mine."

"Your big mouth?". "No, that unfortunately seems to have been passed onto you, but hey, I guessed talent skipped your generation. No I never left home without my papa's Remington semi-automatic concealed under my hood. It was armed with a scope and a hair trigger. And that was the end of Hannibal Wolfter!"

Little Bobby just sat there. "Well, Grandma, I have to say that entire tale made absolutely NO sense. I mean, come on-Mothra, Patrick Duffy, little girls wielding Remington shotguns? You know, if you don't start making more sense, than mom and dad are going to have to put you in a home."

The grandmother snorted. "Your parents already put me in a home. I was only able to get out thanks to this bloody reunion!" Bobby was silent for a moment before the perfect rebuttal came to his wicked little mind.

" Then they'll put you in the crooked home they saw on Sixty Minutes! Surely you too watched that article, did you not?"

Terror filled the grandmother's eyes and she meekly replied, "I'll be good."

"Good."
The End