Player Card (help me fill this out)
Handle(s): Little Red Riding Hood; Red
RealNameTM: Bridget (research wouldn't turn up a surname)
Red's boxen run: Red Hat Linux
After a widehttp://www.angelfire.com/ok2/ordinal/REDRIDINGHOOD.txt
THERE was once upon a time a little country girl, born in a village, the prettiest little creature that was ever seen. Her mother was beyond reason excessively fond of her, and her grandmother yet much more. This good woman caused to be made for her a little red riding-hood; which made her look so very pretty, that every body call'd her, Little Red Riding-Hood.
One day, her mother having made some custards, said to her, "Go my little Biddy", for her christian name was Biddy, "go and see how your grandmother does, for I hear she has been very ill, carry her a custard, and this little pot of butter." Red sets out immediately to go to her grandmother, who lived in another village. As she was going through the wood, she met with Gossop the Wolf, who had a good mind to eat her up, but he did not dare, because of some faggot-makers that were in the forest.
1 "Biddy" is short for Bridget.
He asked of her whither she was going: The poor child, who did not know how dangerous a thing it is to stay and hear a Wolf talk, said to him, "I am going to see my grandmamma, and carry her a custard pie, and a little pot of butter my mamma sends her".
"Does she live far off?" said the Wolf.
"Oh! ay," said Red, "on the other side of the mill below yonder, at the first house in the village."
"Well," said the Wolf, "and I'll go and see her too; I'll go this way, and you go that, and we shall see who will be there soonest."
The Wolf began to run as fast as he was able, the shortest way; and the little girl went the scenic route, diverting her self in gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and making nose-gays of all the little flowers she met with. The Wolfe was not long before he came to the grandmother's house; he knocked at the door knock knock.
"My granddaughter who?"
"Little Red Riding-Hood," said the Wolf, counterfeiting her voice, "who has brought you a custard pie, and a little pot of butter mamma sends you."
The good grandmother, who was in bed, because she found herself somewhat ill, cried out, "Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up." The Wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened; upon which he fell upon the good woman, and ate her up in the tenth part of a moment; for he had eaten nothing for above three days before.
After that, he shut the door, and went into the grandmother's bed, expecting Little Red Riding-Hood, who came some time afterwards, and knocked at the door knock knock.
Red, who hearing the big voice of the Wolf, was at first afraid; but believing her grandmother had got a cold, and was grown hoarse, said, "it is your granddaughter."
Red grew a bit suspicious at the silence. "Little Red Riding-Hood, who has brought you a custard pie, and a little pot of butter mamma sends you."
The Wolf cried out to her, softening his voice as much as he could, "Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up." Red pull'd the bobbin, and the door opened.
The Wolf seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the clothes, "Put the custard, and the little pot of butter upon the stool, and come into bed with me."
Red undressed herself and went into bed, where she was very much astonished to see how her grandmother looked in her night-clothes. So she said to her, "Grandmamma, what great arms you have got!"
"It is the better to embrace thee my pretty child."
"Grandmamma, what great legs you have got!"
"it is to run the better my child."
"Grandmamma, what great ears you have got!"
"It is to hear the better my child."
"Grandmamma, what great eyes you have got!"
"It is to see the better my child."
"Grandmamma, what great teeth you have got!"
"It is to eat thee up." And upon saying these words, this wicked Wolfe fell upon Red, and...
(This is where the various tellings diverge. Some have the Wolf eat Red; others show off Red's kung fu; others have Red run and get a lumberjack.)
From this short story easy we discern
What conduct all young people ought to learn.
But above all, the growing ladies fair,
Whose orient rosy Blooms begin t'appear:
Who, Beauties in the fragrant spring of age!
With pretty airs young hearts are apt t'engage.
Ill do they listen to all sorts of tongues,
Since some enchant and lure like Syrens songs.
No wonder therefore 'tis if overpower'd,
So many of them has the Wolfe devour'd.
The Wolfe, I say, for Wolves too sure there are
Of every sort, and every character.
Some of them mild and gentle-humour'd be
Of noise and gall, and rancour wholly free;
Who tame, familiar, full of complaisance;
ogle and leer, languish, cajole and glance;
With luring tongues, and language wondrous sweet,
Follow young ladies as they walk the street,
Ev'n to their very houses and bedside,
And though their true designs they artful hide,
Yet ah! these simpring Wolves, who does not see
Most dang'rous of all Wolves in fact to be?
(I took a guess, by the net.ubiquity of this version and by the language used, that this was written before the twentieth century. I would have pasted the Politically Correct version, but that's under perpetual copyright.)
Fairy tale wolves don't have any genetic ties to Morlocks, do they?