I never got through one, for my comment was along the lines that "she should have hauled out a 12-gauge and shot his ass by the seventh page." For that, I was deemed to be "unromantic" and it was snidely commented that maybe I should read Louis L'amour books, instead.
Which I did.
Anyway, for your reading pleasure:
The Little Girl and the Wolf
by James Thurber
One afternoon a big wolf waited in a dark forest for a little girl to come along carrying a basket of food to her grandmother. Finally a little girl did come along and she was carrying a basket of food. "Are you carrying that basket to your grandmother?" asked the wolf. The little girl said yes, she was. So the wolf asked her where her grandmother lived and the little girl told him and he disappeared into the wood.
When the little girl opened the door of her grandmother's house she saw that there was somebody in bed with a nightcap and nightgown on. She had approached no nearer than twenty-five feet from the bed when she saw that it was not her grandmother but the wolf, for even in a nightcap a wolf does not look any more like your grandmother than the Metro-Goldwyn lion looks like Calvin Coolidge. So the little girl took an automatic out of her basket and shot the wolf dead.
(Moral: It is not so easy to fool little girls nowadays as it used to be.)
2 comments:
Heh. Reminds me of a typical fantasy novel, you know the type, where a normal girl walks through a mirror into a world of unicorns and knights in shining armor and dragons and stuff and has a romantic adventure? So I wrote one of them, though at 300 words long it's not much of a novel. She walks through the mirror, runs into a unicorn, and said unicorn spits her like a kabob and eats her. Seems that unicorns are carnivorous in that reality. I mean, c'mon. Why do you think unicorns have those horns anyhow -- to deflower virgins with? From an evolutionary point of view, that simply makes no sense!
Badtux, defining your own reality? :)
At least in your case, you knew it was fantasy...
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