Little
Red Striding Hoodlum strode out of the gang hideout, carrying a satchel
over her shoulder. The satchel was heavy, so heavy that she walked with
a slight list. The satchel bulged with all the things she had in it.
“I’m going to Granny’s,” she yelled over her shoulder. “Granny was cooking all last night, and the stuff should be ready. Ten kilos of the finest crystal meth, she promised me, and more to come.”
“Be careful, darling,” Sugar Daddy Hoodlum said absently. He was poring over the latest issue of Gangster’s Weekly, reading the gambling pages. The horses were running today, and he had a small fortune on a sure thing. It was a sure thing because the other jockeys had been informed that if they dared to not lose they’d end up as undersized dwarfs instead of mere midgets. He grinned, imagining them competing to come last.
“Be careful,” he repeated, but he was talking to the thin air. Little Red Striding Hoodlum, pulling on her red full-face mask, had already set off through the wood. Shaking his head, Sugar Daddy returned to the Weekly, trying to decide which of tomorrow’s races to fix.
Little Red Striding Hoodlum stopped at a patch of marijuana. Taking a jar from her bag, she carefully poured the liquid manure over the plants, making sure not to waste a drop. The marijuana was the best, and fetched such prices on the international market that she wouldn’t dream of smoking any of it herself. She then went to a surveillance camera mounted on a tree and changed the batteries. Satisfied, she finally resumed her trek to Granny’s, listing to one side with the weight of her bag.
Big Bad Wolf stood behind a tree and watched the girl stride down the path towards him. His sharp, long features had a sly expression, and his lips stretched over his big teeth in a smile. He stepped out in Striding Hoodlum’s path.
“Good morning, my dear,” he growled in his best manner, ready to flip open his raincoat to flash her. “Where are you going this fine morning?”
“Get out of my way, foxface,” Striding Hoodlum snapped. “Or I’ll have you for sexual harassment.” She walked past him without a further look and went on down the path, still listing with the weight of her satchel, marijuana leaves staining her dainty red boots. BB Wolf stood looking after her, his hands falling away from the clasp of his raincoat.
“What a wench,” he thought. “I wonder if...” And without waiting, he loped off through the wood to try and get to Granny’s before Striding Hoodlum, for surely that was where she was headed. “For surely,” he thought, “Granny knows me well, and will help me to achieve my heart’s desire.”
Granny lived in a little cottage in the middle of the forest. It was heavily camouflaged by a carefully planted barrier of thorn bushes. The cottage contained, apart from Granny’s own rooms and kitchen, her lab, where she produced heroin from opium base, crystal meth, and other drugs of abuse too numerous to mention. Granny was a chemical genius. Granny was also batshit-crazy paranoid.
When BB Wolf knocked on her front door, having passed through the secret passage through her thorn barrier, he found himself staring down the barrel of a submachine gun. “Granny!” he said. “I just came to ask you a favour. You see...”
Granny listened to him through a blue haze of cigarette smoke. Finally she grinned and put the Thompson gun down. “Get lost,” she said. “I’ve better things to do, such as selling the meth there to Hoodlum. I’ve been cooking it the entire night.” But BB Wolf grabbed her and stuffed her into the closet which, he knew, opened into a secret room provided with all the mod cons including a goodly supply of porn. Granny did like her pleasures.
BB Wolf quickly stripped and put on Granny’s night wear. He had always had a thing for women’s clothes and though Granny’s night dress smelt unpleasantly of stale cigarette smoke, he wriggled pleasurably in it and anticipated the scene to follow. Slipping into Granny’s bed, he pulled the – rather dirty and threadbare – blankets up to his chin and waited.
Striding Hoodlum came up the path through the thorn bushes, peering to left and right through the vision slits in her mask. She rapped sharply on the door, which swung open.
“Come in, Little Red Striding Hoodlum,” croaked BB Wolf from the bed, in his best Granny imitation. “I was waiting for you.”
“Why are you in bed, Granny?” asked Striding Hoodlum suspiciously.
“All the better to rest myself with,” BB Wolf said cheerfully.
“And why is your voice sounding kind of funny, Granny?”
“I have a heavy cold, Striding. Come and lie down beside me in bed and warm me, that’s a dear.”
“I always thought you were a lesbian,” Striding Hoodlum said. She sauntered over to the bed, slowly stripping. “But I’ll try anything...once. Besides, I’m kind of horny. Some bastard tried to flash me in the forest and gave me ideas.” Suddenly she stopped. “Never noticed you have such big eyes, Granny,” she said.
“All the better to ogle you with, my dear.”
"And what a big tongue you have, Granny.”
“All the better to...ah...lick you with, my dear.”
“And what big teeth you have, Granny.”
“Ever heard of love bites, you silly little bitch? Now quit fooling about and come to bed already!”
“Not so fast,” said Striding Hoodlum. She took a big nickel-plated revolver from her bag and pointed it at BB Wolf. “I’m underage, did you know that? Now I’ll turn you in for paedophilia, unless...”
“Unless...?”
“Unless you hand over the ten kilos of crystal meth – free of charge.”
“OK,” said BB Wolf. Shaking his head sorrowfully, he got out of bed and dragged out a small sack from the corner. “There’s your crystal meth. Happy?”
“I’d never intended to pay for it anyway, Granny,” said Little Red Striding Hoodlum, patting her satchel. “I never intended to pay you any money. But I’ve got enough plastic explosive here to blow your entire lab to the moon.”
“You’re making a mistake,” said BB Wolf quietly.
“Oh? Who’s going to stop me? You, Granny?” She raised her gun. “Or maybe you’re thinking of giving me away to Sugar Daddy, huh? Well, let me tell you...” and she stopped talking, because her head exploded in a shower of blood and shards of bone.
Granny stood in the doorway of her closet, blowing the smoke from the muzzle of her Thompson submachine gun. “That’s that,” she said. “What shall we do with the little bitch?”
“I have an idea,” said BB Wolf. “when I saw her I just thought here’s a little girl I could eat alive.”
So BB Wolf and Granny cut up and cooked Little Red Striding Hoodlum, and made meat pies and stew out of her, and invited Sugar Daddy Hoodlum to the feast. Sugar Daddy came and ate, and went away, sated. He had just one complaint.
“Do any of you know where that Striding Hoodlum has gone?” he asked. “She left with enough cash to buy her way to El Dorado...”
“Into some dark and smelly place, I reckon,” said Granny. “She was always kind of nosy.”
“Oh well,” said Sugar Daddy Hoodlum, belching gently. “Perhaps it’s just as well. She never agreed with me anyway.”
Copyright B Purkayastha 2010/12
“I’m going to Granny’s,” she yelled over her shoulder. “Granny was cooking all last night, and the stuff should be ready. Ten kilos of the finest crystal meth, she promised me, and more to come.”
“Be careful, darling,” Sugar Daddy Hoodlum said absently. He was poring over the latest issue of Gangster’s Weekly, reading the gambling pages. The horses were running today, and he had a small fortune on a sure thing. It was a sure thing because the other jockeys had been informed that if they dared to not lose they’d end up as undersized dwarfs instead of mere midgets. He grinned, imagining them competing to come last.
“Be careful,” he repeated, but he was talking to the thin air. Little Red Striding Hoodlum, pulling on her red full-face mask, had already set off through the wood. Shaking his head, Sugar Daddy returned to the Weekly, trying to decide which of tomorrow’s races to fix.
Little Red Striding Hoodlum stopped at a patch of marijuana. Taking a jar from her bag, she carefully poured the liquid manure over the plants, making sure not to waste a drop. The marijuana was the best, and fetched such prices on the international market that she wouldn’t dream of smoking any of it herself. She then went to a surveillance camera mounted on a tree and changed the batteries. Satisfied, she finally resumed her trek to Granny’s, listing to one side with the weight of her bag.
Big Bad Wolf stood behind a tree and watched the girl stride down the path towards him. His sharp, long features had a sly expression, and his lips stretched over his big teeth in a smile. He stepped out in Striding Hoodlum’s path.
“Good morning, my dear,” he growled in his best manner, ready to flip open his raincoat to flash her. “Where are you going this fine morning?”
“Get out of my way, foxface,” Striding Hoodlum snapped. “Or I’ll have you for sexual harassment.” She walked past him without a further look and went on down the path, still listing with the weight of her satchel, marijuana leaves staining her dainty red boots. BB Wolf stood looking after her, his hands falling away from the clasp of his raincoat.
“What a wench,” he thought. “I wonder if...” And without waiting, he loped off through the wood to try and get to Granny’s before Striding Hoodlum, for surely that was where she was headed. “For surely,” he thought, “Granny knows me well, and will help me to achieve my heart’s desire.”
Granny lived in a little cottage in the middle of the forest. It was heavily camouflaged by a carefully planted barrier of thorn bushes. The cottage contained, apart from Granny’s own rooms and kitchen, her lab, where she produced heroin from opium base, crystal meth, and other drugs of abuse too numerous to mention. Granny was a chemical genius. Granny was also batshit-crazy paranoid.
When BB Wolf knocked on her front door, having passed through the secret passage through her thorn barrier, he found himself staring down the barrel of a submachine gun. “Granny!” he said. “I just came to ask you a favour. You see...”
Granny listened to him through a blue haze of cigarette smoke. Finally she grinned and put the Thompson gun down. “Get lost,” she said. “I’ve better things to do, such as selling the meth there to Hoodlum. I’ve been cooking it the entire night.” But BB Wolf grabbed her and stuffed her into the closet which, he knew, opened into a secret room provided with all the mod cons including a goodly supply of porn. Granny did like her pleasures.
BB Wolf quickly stripped and put on Granny’s night wear. He had always had a thing for women’s clothes and though Granny’s night dress smelt unpleasantly of stale cigarette smoke, he wriggled pleasurably in it and anticipated the scene to follow. Slipping into Granny’s bed, he pulled the – rather dirty and threadbare – blankets up to his chin and waited.
Striding Hoodlum came up the path through the thorn bushes, peering to left and right through the vision slits in her mask. She rapped sharply on the door, which swung open.
“Come in, Little Red Striding Hoodlum,” croaked BB Wolf from the bed, in his best Granny imitation. “I was waiting for you.”
“Why are you in bed, Granny?” asked Striding Hoodlum suspiciously.
“All the better to rest myself with,” BB Wolf said cheerfully.
“And why is your voice sounding kind of funny, Granny?”
“I have a heavy cold, Striding. Come and lie down beside me in bed and warm me, that’s a dear.”
“I always thought you were a lesbian,” Striding Hoodlum said. She sauntered over to the bed, slowly stripping. “But I’ll try anything...once. Besides, I’m kind of horny. Some bastard tried to flash me in the forest and gave me ideas.” Suddenly she stopped. “Never noticed you have such big eyes, Granny,” she said.
“All the better to ogle you with, my dear.”
"And what a big tongue you have, Granny.”
“All the better to...ah...lick you with, my dear.”
“And what big teeth you have, Granny.”
“Ever heard of love bites, you silly little bitch? Now quit fooling about and come to bed already!”
“Not so fast,” said Striding Hoodlum. She took a big nickel-plated revolver from her bag and pointed it at BB Wolf. “I’m underage, did you know that? Now I’ll turn you in for paedophilia, unless...”
“Unless...?”
“Unless you hand over the ten kilos of crystal meth – free of charge.”
“OK,” said BB Wolf. Shaking his head sorrowfully, he got out of bed and dragged out a small sack from the corner. “There’s your crystal meth. Happy?”
“I’d never intended to pay for it anyway, Granny,” said Little Red Striding Hoodlum, patting her satchel. “I never intended to pay you any money. But I’ve got enough plastic explosive here to blow your entire lab to the moon.”
“You’re making a mistake,” said BB Wolf quietly.
“Oh? Who’s going to stop me? You, Granny?” She raised her gun. “Or maybe you’re thinking of giving me away to Sugar Daddy, huh? Well, let me tell you...” and she stopped talking, because her head exploded in a shower of blood and shards of bone.
Granny stood in the doorway of her closet, blowing the smoke from the muzzle of her Thompson submachine gun. “That’s that,” she said. “What shall we do with the little bitch?”
“I have an idea,” said BB Wolf. “when I saw her I just thought here’s a little girl I could eat alive.”
So BB Wolf and Granny cut up and cooked Little Red Striding Hoodlum, and made meat pies and stew out of her, and invited Sugar Daddy Hoodlum to the feast. Sugar Daddy came and ate, and went away, sated. He had just one complaint.
“Do any of you know where that Striding Hoodlum has gone?” he asked. “She left with enough cash to buy her way to El Dorado...”
“Into some dark and smelly place, I reckon,” said Granny. “She was always kind of nosy.”
“Oh well,” said Sugar Daddy Hoodlum, belching gently. “Perhaps it’s just as well. She never agreed with me anyway.”
Copyright B Purkayastha 2010/12
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