Chapter 1: Ms. Wolfe meets Red-chan
One of the great certainties my mother taught me (before she died of constipation after a scat orgy) was that all stories, no matter how improbable, have a basis on real life.
Sometimes, or maybe often times, real life can even be more improbable than the tales that represent them. Sometimes, or maybe often times, real life can get pretty disturbing.
Somewhere in the Southeast USA, in the late afternoon of the year 1999...
A 17-year-old teenage girl cloaked in a crimson hood-cape skips carelessly and happily between a dark southern forest and Highway 75. Her short hair is red--not the orange kind but red as in Hawaiian Punch Red. Beneath her crimson hood, the girl, whose name is Red Little, is dressed in typical teenage clothes, such as tight jeans, white and pink tennis shoes, and a shirt that reads in the front "I'm an Angel, and I can Kick your Ass!" As she trots, she sings at the top of her lungs Brittany Spears' latest song "...Baby, One More Time." She carries beneath her right arm an inconspicuous picnic basket with a white cloth pouring out to the sides. Hidden under her hood-cape and strapped to her shoulders is a beaten pink backpack containing her change of clothes and personal care products.
Down the highway is a tall young woman--a goth-tomboy--of about 21 named Rebecca "Becky" Wolfe. Becky, a smoker, has short black hair, ruby-red eyes, black eye makeup, and rings pierced through right eyelid, her left nostril, the top lip on the right, ears, and her navel. She is dressed rather trashy in her dark green shrunken tank top, dark gray and over-washed baggy pants complete with chain, black boots, and a heavy "pleather" jacket. Slung over to her left shoulder is her pack of belongings, such as a couple of change of clothes, personal care products, and makeup. Also slung over her left shoulder is her mysterious black-sheathed Japanese sword. For some inexplicable reason, Becky has real live wolf ears on the top of her head. The left one is heavily ring-pierced.
Becky looks down the highway and sees a truck coming right for her. She puffs another plume from the cigarette and out her mouth and extends her right thumb out. The truck blazes past her. Becky Wolfe spits out her burnt-out cigarette in anger and searches her jacket for more smokes. She is out.
Suddenly, Becky hears the annoyingly high-pitched sound of an annoying pop song. She looks down the other way to see Red Little skipping carelessly down her way.
At the end of the song, Red stops right before Becky and smiles.
"Hello nice lady," bows Red.
"Uh, hey," greeted Becky. "You wouldn't have a cigarette in that basket of yours do you?"
"Oh, that is for my grandma."
"Ah, can't you spare me at least one?"
"I am sorry, nice lady, but my grandma needs all of them."
Red shakes her head--no.
"Well, okay then," said Becky. "Run along little girl."
Becky turns her head to the highway and looks for another vehicle to hail. After a minute, she turns her head and sees Red still standing behind her. The crimson hood-caped girl looks down on the ground twirling her hair and hiding her wide smile innocently.
"What is it now?" Becky asked.
"Well, I," started Red.
"Aren't you supposed to go to your grandma's?"
Red darts right into the dark southern forest.
"Hey, where are you going?" Becky yelled.
"My grandma lives inside this forest!" Red replied.
"But the forest is..."
Red disappears into the thick trees.
"Dark..." continued Becky, "maybe full of wolves, or most likely pedophiles."
Then a thought crossed Becky:
What the fuck! That girl's grandma lived inside that forest! And I've been hitchhiking for eight fuckin' hours! If I get there, I can make a phone call, and maybe score one of grandma's smokes.
With her pack and sword in hand, Becky Wolfe darts into the dark southern forest on a slightly different path from Red.
In no time, Becky makes it to a clearing that held a quaint little southern house. Suddenly she sees a van pulling up. Becky hides behind a tree. She sees a gaudy pumpkin-orange vintage Volkswagen van stopping at the side of the house. Out of the van comes a fat old hag wearing an old moo-moo and thick sunglasses while carrying a plastic bag of groceries. Visible from the bag is a bottle of whiskey.
I wonder where the little girl is at? Becky thought.
Meanwhile in the forest, Red is hopelessly lost and hopelessly clumsy. She trips over branch after branch. After each trip, Red starts over "...Baby One More Time."
Back at the house, Becky watches as Red's grandmother fumbles around her purse for her keys by the front door.
"Here goes nothing," Becky said to herself.
Becky comes out of hiding and approaches the grandmother. She raises her hand...
The grandmother jolts. Suddenly, she drops her purse and groceries, and clutches her heart while gasping heavily. She turns around to see Becky for about five seconds, and then drops dead.
Becky is stunned. She looks to her left. And to her right. Then she remembers another great certainty--or riddle--or something:
If a tree fell in the middle of a forest, does it make a sound? With that in mind, if an elderly fell dead in the middle of nowhere, will she still be able to collect Social Security benefits and other such pensions?
Then Becky hears:
"Hit me baby one more--ouch!"
Becky looks and sees that Red is drawing near to the house with each fall. There is little time to get rid of the body. After moving grandma's dead fat ass to the side of the house, she unsheathes her mystical katana, the Shinseiki, and in four successive swipes segments Red's grandmother into four pieces. Then she dumps out the contents of four nearby black garbage bags and replaces them with the body pieces. Becky then throws the four garbage bags inside the back of the pumpkin-orange Volkswagen van.
Red approaches the door of her grandmother's house and bangs on the screen door. "Grandma, it's me! Red Little!"
"Shit!" Becky cursed. She quickly takes a swig from the whiskey bottle from the grocery bag. Then she takes the keys out the purse, unlocks the door and bursts into house.
"Grandma, are you there?" Red bellowed.
Becky takes a deep breath and preps herself to imitate an old woman's voice...
...which didn't sound like an old woman's voice. It sounded like Becky's.
"Oh, I'm so glad," said Red.
Is this girl stupid or what? Becky thought.
"Aren't you gonna let me in?"
Becky fumbles into grandmother's room in order to find grandma clothes to slip on.
"Wait just a second," Becky said in her normal voice. "I just need... to... get... dressed..."
Becky starts slipping into a smelly moo-moo she finds in the closet.
"Grandma, I'm coming in," yelled Red.
"Wait a sec, girl!"
Suddenly, Becky hears two gunshots at the front door. Scared stiff, she jumps into bed and hides under the sheets. She sees an old nightcap on the bedpost and immediately slips it on. Her wolf ears tear through.
"Uh, Red-chan?" Becky whispered.
The crimson-cloaked Red enters her grandmother's room bearing a picnic basket. Her shirt still clearly reads "I'm an Angel and I can kick your ass!"
"Oh, hi Red-chan!" stuttered Becky.
"Oh my god, Grandma, what big tits you have!"
"Oh, the better to breast feed you--I meant, breast feed your mother."
Are my tits THAT big? Becky thought.
"But you're not my mama's mother," Red innocently smiled.
"Er, I knew that."
"My grandma, what a big mole you have!"
Becky hides the small mole that is on the side of cheek.
"Bitch," Becky yelled, "I don't have that big of a mole!"
"Grandma, what a nice nose ring you have!"
"All the better to, um, separate myself from the status quo, because I am tired of the conservative U.S. government telling me that I should be straight, buy a house, have kids, buy a Mercedes, gorge on the noxious and toxic fumes of consumerism while at the same time oppress others below such as inner-city dwellers, blacks, Hispanics, gays, liberals..."
"My Grandma, what beautiful ruby-red eyes you have!"
"Oh, why thank you," blushed Becky.
Red drops her basket and backpack and creeps seductively closer to Becky.
"Grandma," she said, "what smooth white skin you have."
"Oh, despite being a goth, I do take care of myself," smiled Becky.
Red brushes her red bangs and places her hand on Becky's. Becky backs into the bed frame and pillows startled, nervous, and strangely aroused. Red leans her face so close to Becky's that their noses and lips are almost touching.
"Grandma, you are so looking hot."
"Hey, that don't sound right," said Becky.
Before Becky could say anymore, her lips are locked with Red's. The two start making out.
On that day, Rebecca Wolfe ate Red Little.
Somewhere in the south sits the Little residence. The two-story Little residence sits on top of a hill overlooking another dark forest and its small farm. The farm, tended by ten shady migrant workers from Canada, consists of a suspicious plant, possibly cannabis.
Inside the residence is Mr. Blue Little, a slender blue-haired bespectacled man in his 40's who has a creepy comb-over. He sits on the plaid couch contently watching an American Football game until the phone rings.
"Damnit Blue! Get the fucking phone!" screamed a bitchy voice, presumably Blue's wife, Violet Little.
Blue frantically shoots from his couch and scrambles to the kitchen to answer the phone.
"It's me daddy!" greeted Red on the other line.
"Oh, hi sweetie."
"I had a good time with Grandma!"
"Who is it?" screamed Violet.
"It's Red, honey," replied Blue. He then turns to the handset, "so did you do the 'you know what'?"
"Huh?" Red said.
"I had hot sex with Grandma!"
Blue suddenly hears a high-pitched scream upstairs. He drops the handset and scrambles up to the master bedroom. Inside is Violet, a violet-haired woman who still has a touch of vanity in her 40s. She is breathing furiously. Her teeth grind loudly, and her brow is in the scariest frown ever.
"Uh, honey," uttered Blue.
Violet, who had been listening to the conversation, grips the cordless phone so hard that it starts to break.