Written by Neil Levine
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Topics: Iraq, London

Sunday, 3 September 2006

image for Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf?
Have You Seen This Suspect?

Baghdad, Iraq and London, England---Once upon a time in a far away land that was not easy to find with a bright searchlight and a high road map that depicted a far forbidding forest that was overrun with weed, rocks and rolls and unwelcome agricultural pests of a very annoying persuasion, but which overwhelmed you nonetheless, there lived The Big Bald Wolf, you know, the rotter who existed to remind people how BIG and Baaad he was, all the while using the code name All Cater, spelt Al Capone and pronounced a capella Oh Great Chimera, or Al Kali, meaning he was a big pain of a beaut because he had dedicated his livelihood to preying on what he viewed as feeble minded weaklings and soft bellied underlings and other swishy swashy wimps.


In order to drill in his ferocious image, he made a bad habit of picking his teeth on shattered glass picks and honed his razor sharp wit on gaseous repartee and improvised explosive bombast with a hostile tilt.


His home was the wild and his custom was rough. He specialized in smoooth talk and lullaby slogans at bed time. Wouldn't you just know he was up to some ill conceived plot.


He had gotten Grandma to open her door with a tricky apple hiding a trojan worm that he had her believing was delivering her from evil and then he pounced. Poof. She was gone in one giant gulping swallow. Boy, oh, boy, did he ever enjoy wolfing her down.


That was when he decided to hide under her bed. "I'm gonna spring a surprise on that little chickadee, Little Red Rhymerwhoops." But as time wore on and no one paid heed, the floor became unbearable, The Big Bald Wolf eventually made a conscious decision to go to sleep in Grandmother's bed just as Little Red Rhymerwhoops happened to pay her respects along with a bouquet of flowers and some tidbits of syrupy gossip she picked up along with whey.


Me oh my, was Little Red surprised when she found a Wolf in Grandmother's bed.


He was prepared to sell her an expensive bill of knock off goods, but she outmaneuvered him by shouting, "Police. Please, police."


What do you know. A strong armed police officer, who was patiently waiting for a chance to bring justice to the wild, wild woods of the west broke up the door and took The Big Bald Wolf into customary custody where he was cuffed, booked and suffered the worst justice imaginable, being hauled before a cold tempered judge who offered a choice of blandishment to never ever land or short shrift on a long gangplank in a pirated ship selling seven teas.


Sad to say, The Big Bad Wolf did not live a story book ending.

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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