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The Wolf's Tale


Frances Mackay

This is all that redneck w-w-woodcutterís fault. If it hadnít been for him I w-w-w-would be happily living my life out in those deep woods. If he had not made it his lifeís w-w-work to chop down all those trees none of it w-w-would ever have happened.

But, oh no! He knew best - those trees had to go, all of them.

Sure, I knew that houses had to be built, people had to be kept w-w-warm in w-w-winter and logs were needed for fuel, but w-w-what about the creatures that lived in those w-w-w-woods? W-w-what about the squirrels, the rabbits and the voles. Especially the voles! They were my favourite meal and they all vanished. There w-w-was no-where for them to live you see, so they died from exposure, or starved.

So w-w-when Little Red started visiting her Grandmother, that w-w-was w-w-when I got the idea. After all she broadcasted what she was doing with that stupid song she kept singing. A w-w-wolf has to live too, you know!

Okay, I followed her for a couple of days till I got her routine down pat. She never knew I was there. W-w-we w-w-wolves can be stealthy, w-w-we donít go around howling all the time. And, w-w-while Iím at it w-w-we donít eat humans, just ask Farley Mowat, he lived with us for quite a while, so he should know. That rumour about eating those two is a slanderous lie. I only w-w-wanted the basket of goodies. Remember, I hadnít had anything to eat for days.

Anyway I w-w-would have gotten away with it if Woodie-two-shoes hadnít had the hots for Little Red. Always hanging around w-w-when she was in the woods, he was. Looking for a chance to put himself in her good books, to act the hero.

W-w-well he caught me all right, and a right old ponce I looked, dressed in Grandmaís clothes. All for a plate of cookies - which Little Red and W-w-wonder boy ate before Grandma got home from the store. While I was tied to the bed with Grandmaís dressing gown cord. They really rubbed it in as I watched, savouring every bite they fed to each other. Obscene it was.

Itís not so bad here really, I suppose. At least I am w-w-warm enough and get my square meal every evening. Though I miss being free and I hate howling for those stupid visitors every afternoon though...

By Frances Mackay © 2003

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