He’s got hungry eyes.
By Jeanette Stampone
I bolted out of the door howling in pain; my tail raw and stinging from the scalding water. Grunts and snorts echoed behind me. I glanced back and snarled as the three little pigs stood laughing in the doorway of their brick house. Little bastards.
Retreating to my den, deep in the forest, a sense of loneliness swept over me. I trudged through the rickety hut, slumped onto the ground and gently licked my throbbing tail. A tear rolled down my face, soaking into my coarse fur.
“No more hunting,” I muttered to myself. “I’m changing my ways for good.”
Within a few days of that unfortunate incident, posters with my photo were pinned on trees throughout the forest.
Beware – Big Bad Wolf!
From that moment, everywhere I went, doors slammed in my face and weary faces peered out of windows. I had absolutely no hope of getting a decent meal and resigned myself to the fact that I would slowly starve to death.
Being a wolf in a magical land was not all it was cracked up to be. Around here, it is considered socially unacceptable to dine on one’s neighbours. I dreamed of being a regular wolf; hunting in a pack, feasting on fresh meat and sleeping together at night. A fanciful delusion, far from reality. I sighed deeply as I sat alone in the shadowy forest, snacking on berries and nuts.
My stomach cramped with hunger as I moped around my den. As the days dragged on, I became weak and exhausted. Finally, I curled up on my bed and closed my eyes, awaiting my inevitable demise.
Just as I had given up all hope, a pleasant fragrance drifted into my nose. I immediately raced outside, frantically sniffing the air. The delicious smell wafted through the forest and a wide smile spread across my face. It was the unmistakable scent of… meat!
Between the trees, I spied a little girl in a crimson coat. She skipped through the crisp leaves, swinging a basket in her hand. It was most unusual to see people off the path and I couldn’t resist creeping up to investigate.
“Hello little girl,” I said. “Where are you off to?”
A look of suspicion spread across her face.
“Grandma’s not well. I have some stew for her,” she replied.
A cunning plan began to materialise in my mind; my mouth watered in anticipation.
“I better go,” she said hastily, before rushing away towards the path.
With that, I zipped along the shorter route, eagerly scuttling towards Grandma’s cottage. The front door was conveniently unlocked, so I quietly let myself in. Then, with my fiercest growl, I burst into the bedroom. The old woman shrieked and leapt out of bed. There was not a lot bloody wrong with her; the cheeky old bugger was clearly faking it.
“Not a sound,” I snarled, “or I will gobble you up!”
Grandma stood in silence, frozen to the spot. I lunged forward and pushed her into the cupboard. Then, grinning wickedly, I slipped into one of her nightdresses and climbed into bed.
Shortly, as expected, footsteps tip-tapped up the path. The little girl entered the room, greeting me cheerfully, before trotting over to my bedside.
With a frown, she peered closely at my face.
“Grandma, what big eyes you have.”
“All the better to see you with.”
“And what big ears you have.”
“All the better to hear you with.”
The heady smell of beef stew entered my nostrils. I licked my lips and smirked, exposing my sharp, white fangs. The girl’s voice trembled, “What big teeth you have!”
I chuckled, “All the better to eat stew with!”
Well, I had obviously said something wrong because she completely flipped out! Screaming with her arms in the air, she sprinted straight out of the house. The next thing I know, a fucking crazy man with an axe rushed in. I was out of there, quick smart.
Back in my den, my skeleton protruded through my dull fur and my stomach grumbled with every movement. I huddled in bed, trembling as the wind whistled through the trees and rain pattered on the flimsy roof.
Suddenly, my ears pricked up. The sound of sheep bleating in the distance! With a new sense of energy and excitement, I raced out, following their scent.
I silently weaved between the trees, saliva dripping from my tongue. Upon discovering a clearing, I stopped abruptly. There, in the paddock stood a flock of fat, juicy sheep. A young boy sat under the shade of a tree, humming to himself and idly whacking buzzing fairies with a stick.
From the edge of the forest, I called out, “Care to spare a sheep or two?”
Wide-eyed, he immediately jumped to his feet and yelled, “It’s the Big Bad Wolf!”
A passing elf glanced up with an uninterested look on his face.
“Help! Wolf!” the boy screamed again.
“Oh, shut up,” the elf remarked, before disappearing into the distance.
The boy stared at me, now hysterically screeching at the top of his lungs. To his horror, still no-one came.
So I ate a couple sheep and polished the boy off for dessert.
What did you expect? I’m the Big Bad Wolf! You don’t believe in that non-fiction bullshit do you?