A Contempory Fairy Tale

By Frank J. Winchell   2/24/82

Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow; and everywhere that Mary went the godamn lamb was sure to go.  It got to be a real pain in the in the ass, so she shot it.  She sold the fleece, the chops and everything else.  It turned out to be such a good deal so she went into the business.  Later she got three little pigs and did them in as well.  She peddled the works; skins, meat, chitins and all.  The little red hen went the same way.

Everybody made out and started to live happily ever after when along came a little fella by the name of Nahlf Rader.  Nahlf figured it was getting unsafe for a hog to be on the street and that Mary was an unconscionable shit.  “The TIMES,” with everybody workin and eatin regular, was runnin short on stuff to print so they were mighty sympathetic with Nahlf’s hypothesis and characterization of Mary.

On top of that a lot of folks were beginning not to be too big on her anymore anyway on account of her livin in the biggest house in town and her factory stunk.

Under a Federal grant professor William W. Spivins was rubbin some of the stuff she was throwin in the river on a mouse.  After six or seven years it came down with the clap.

The United Hog Workers figured they were not getting what was their rightful share and that it was time to bring Mary to the bargainin table.  The UHW figured a fair bargain was for her to meet their “demands” or board the place up.  Which also seemed fair enough to “The TIMES” who, by the way, with the sensational discoveries of Rader and Spivins, was back in business.

Soon Nahlf’s got himself a big following’ and he’s into everything.  He’s so godamn good, you could hardly believe it.

By and by, it’s startin to look like everybody is goin to live happily ever after; everybody but Whatsername.

By this time a lot of other folks are beginning to think maybe she really was sort of a shit and could be settin a bad example for some of the other little kids.

Mary figures things are starting to pile up on her.  By now the product is priced out of the market; supply is up, demand is down; but the cost of labor and material just keeps growin right on up.  For some odd reason, raisin prices just don’t work.  Inventories just keep on gettin bigger. And all the while she’s getting her absolute ass taxed off.

So she boards the place up and splits; an astonishing development to the towns big thinkers.

She decides to stop by and see her Grandmother who lives in a nice little house in the woods and likes cookies.  She is also pretty big on Vodka and can’t make her own cookies anymore.  So, Mary stops by the bakery and picks up some (oatmeal and peanut butter).  She gets all dressed up in her best red suit and heads for the woods.

I’m a sonofabitch if she don’t run into a godamn wolf.  Lucky for little Hooding Red Ride, as a lot of folks like to call her, this big bastard is pretty wore out from huffing and puffing at a brick pig house he’d been trying to blow down.  Seems kinda dumb but that’s the way it was told to me.  Anyway, the first move he makes, little Riding Red Hood whips a Smith and Wesson out of her sock and plugs him; but good.  I mean he’s dead.  She was a hell of a shot from about three feet.  She’s knocked off a lot of them fussy little lambs at just about that distance back at the plant.

Anyway she skips on to Grandmother’s place without further untoward confrontations.

Granny is propped up in bed playing the harmonica for a big wavy haired guy in a mackinaw.  I forgot how the rest of it goes, except that it looked like the three of them were going to live happily ever after, especially little Hooding Red Ride.  She was a bird.

But the town folks just couldn’t seem to get along, they were havin a hell of a time.  Their tax base was shot.  They split over the millage for the school.  Spivins was on strike.  The kids were bitching about bussing and havin to eat them cold bean sandwiches for lunch.  Everybody’s ass was hanging out.  The Godamn mayor was a cocky little peanut farmer that couldn’t do anything but grin.  They finally ran him off and brought in a big ole prune faced cowboy who figured they’d be a hell of a lot better off if they could get Little Red to come back, especially if she could just clean up her act; just a little bit.

But Little Red, in the meantime, had a better deal someplace else.

When the folks found out what she was getting ready to do to get her back, they threw a net over her and hauled her off to the funny farm.

In time, the woods grew back over the place and you couldn’t even tell where it was.

And the hogs and the chickens and little lambs lived happily ever after.