NCE upon a time there was a very pretty little girl who everyone loved. Her hair was blonde, her eyes were blue and her lovely, slender legs went on forever. Well, that's not quite true, her girl friends envied her cute nose and perky breasts, her mother hated her masturbating with her favourite wooden spoons and the boys just wanted to get into her pretty, red knickers, but we're getting ahead of ourselves.
Her grandmother really did love her (in a non-sexual way) and gave her a frilly red thong and a matching hoodie on her fourteenth birthday, which made the little girl very happy. Especially when she wore them while she was riding her wooden pony (in a shamelessly sexual way). And that was why everyone started calling her 'Little Red Riding Hood'—or 'Sticky Red Riding Knickers', behind her back—though her real name was Jennifer. One day when she was wearing her red thong and hoodie (and nothing else) and riding her wooden pony as usual, her mother peered at her through her thick, pebble glasses and said irritably: "Oh you're such a slut, Jennifer. Don't you know you'll go blind if you keep doing that?"
Her mother shook her head sadly and said: "Look, here's some spliff and a bottle of Brandy. It's not the best but she'll never notice the difference. Take them to your grandmother. She's been a bit low lately. Some spliff and a few stiff drinks will cheer her up no end. You'd better start now while it's still light before all the vampires and werewolves come out. Don't talk to strangers or stray from your path. For goodness sake zip that top up and pull that slutty microskirt down, or some smelly old man will rip those pretty red knickers off you and auction them on eBay before you've even noticed they're missing. And when you get to her flat, don't go poking about in your grandmother's drawers looking for things to shove up your pussy. That's how your sister ended up in hospital."
"I'll do everything right, mummy," Little Red Riding Hood promised. Her grandmother lived in St John's Wood, half an hour's tube ride from the Chelsea maisonette she and her mother shared with two impoverished BBC scriptwriters and a transsexual plumber, called 'Bob.' No sooner had Little Red Riding Hood entered South Kensington station and stepped into a carriage, than she was accosted by an American werewolf. Hang on a minute...an American werewolf in London—on the Circle line, in broad daylight? Aren't we mixing up our stories here, not to mention asking for a suspension of disbelief which is quite extraordinary? Look, this is a fairy story, okay? The whole point of fairy stories is that they're not remotely believable. Anyway, he didn't look much like a wolf when Sticky Red Riding Knickers—sorry, 'Little Red Riding Hood', met him; don't you know anything about lycanthropy? Can we get on now? Right, as you may have gathered, Little Red Riding Hood was a bit short-sighted on account of all the time she spent riding her little wooden pony, but far too vain to wear glasses or contacts. So she didn't spot the telltale signs that would have warned her she was dealing with a merciless lycanthrope rather than a very hirsute stockbroker with a luxuriant beard and a sexy, American accent.
"Good afternoon, Little Red Riding Hood," he said politely. Wait a minute...how the hell did the werewolf know her name? Well, it's obvious isn't it? She was wearing a black microskirt barely largely than a postage stamp and had her bright red hoodie tied around her lovely neck. Just because he's American doesn't mean he's several votes short of a full majority, does it? He'd have to be blind as well as stupid not to notice the frilly red thong riding high on her pert little bottom. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone on the tube during a terrorist alert?" he asked.
"Six two," said the werewolf.
By the time the train reached Paddington, Little Red Riding Hood had forgotten all about her mother's warnings and was chattering gaily to the werewolf, seemingly oblivious to the way he stared at her when her microskirt rode up over her tanned thighs. She didn't even complain when he slid his hand underneath and started kneading her thong. She closed her eyes and was soon sighing softly to herself with her head thrown back, dreaming she was riding her little wooden pony. It was only when he slid two fingers inside her and began to draw little grunts from her throat that she sat up with a jerk and suggested he might like to wait until they got to her grandmother's.
"What's at your grandmother's?" he asked huskily.
As they left the tube station and entered Maida Vale, she glanced shyly up at him from the corners of her big blue eyes and took his hand in hers. "How very young and naïve she is!" thought the werewolf. "Her hair is like pure gold and her little titties are almost popping out of that top. Those pretty, pouting lips are just begging to be wrapped around my throbbing cock. Why, she'll be even tastier than the old bag. If I play my cards right I can shag them both before I eat them!"
Little Red Riding Hood looked up. "I was thinking about granny. She's been so low lately."
You will come to visit granny with me, won't you?" she asked breathlessly.
That should have given the werewolf pause for thought, but he was so excited by the prospect of devouring the old hag, not to mention some incredible sex with her hot granddaughter, that he boldly kicked open the door and plunged into the flat, fangs bared and eyes alight with bloodlust. He realised his mistake when he entered the old woman's bedroom and idly opening the lid of an ornate casket, found a semi-naked, drop-dead gorgeous brunette in her mid thirties reclining languidly in the velvet-lined interior.
"Bugger!" she shouted. "A fucking werewolf. I'd forgotten just how bad you vermin taste!"
© 2006 Miranda S Givings & Keli McTaggart. Illustrations © utterpants.co.uk / 240106
FIRST PUBLISHED: 24th January 2006
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Funny Stories is packed full of some of the most original and hilarious short stories you'll find anywhere on the internet.
From scathingly witty parodies of the literature of the last century like The Evils of Coffee and How to detect Self Abuse in Young Girls, through stories about Wrapping presents with a Cat, Performance Art and the Perils of Public Toilets, to advice on how not to save your marriage and the dangers of Threesomes, Funny Stories contains some of the very best writing Utterpants has to offer.
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