Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
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Once Upon a Starship
“Oh boy! This is going to be fun!” Tendi chirped happily clutching a padd while sitting on her bunk. “Just need to make sure I have everything. Cloak, check. Rope, check. Grappling hook, dagger, lockpicks, check, check, check…”
“Grappling hook, dagger and lockpicks?” Rutherford repeated appearing around the corner with Boimler and Mariner. “What could you possibly need those for?”
“Yeah, spill it, T,” Mariner prodded. “Did you get roped into going along on another brutal survival training session with Shaxs?”
“For your sake I hope not,” Boimler shuddered. “I still have nightmares after being forced to participate in his last one.”
“Oh, hi guys!” Tendi greeted looking up. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing like that. I’m just prepping a few things for my upcoming volunteer shift helping to watch over the Cerritos’ kindergarteners.”
“Oh man, that’s even worse,” Mariner whistled with a wince. “Survival training is nothing compared with trying to ride herd on that wild pack of unruly demons. What are you planning to do? Tie the little hellions up and threaten them to behave? Trust me, it doesn’t work. I know from experience.”
“Of course not,” Tendi made a face. “I’m simply going to read the kids a collection of classic Orion folktale heists. The lockpicks and stuff are child-safe props to help bring the stories to life!”
“Well that sounds nice,” Boimler nodded. “Though I’m not sure your selection of reading material is the best choice for presenting to children.”
“Why not?” Tendi frowned giving Boimler a warning look. “Are you prejudiced against Orion folktales or something?”
“No! No! Not at all!” Boimler insisted holding up his hands. “I’m just worried about the heist part of the folktales.”
“Why? What’s wrong with heists?” Tendi asked innocently. “All Orion folktales involve heists of one sort or another. Heists are a common theme which transcend all regional and ethnical boundaries.”
“Gee, what a surprise,” Mariner drawled.
“That’s…interesting,” Boimler said diplomatically. “But are stories about heists really the best material for presenting to impressionable little kids?”
“Of course they are,” Tendi said matter-of-factly. “Heist stories encourage children to be witty, creative, inventive and resourceful. Not to mention teaching them the importance of proper planning, observation skills and problem solving.”
“O-kay,” Boimler blinked for a moment. “That may be, but such stories also teach kids that stealing from others is socially acceptable.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Tendi waved. “The use of heists in Orion folktales is simply a common storytelling technique used to advance the plot and flesh out the characters instead of being the purpose of the tales themselves. I’m sure the Cerritos’ kindergarteners will be smart enough to tell the difference.”
“I dunno, T. I gotta side with Boims on this one,” Mariner commented. “Telling heist tales to the ship’s kids is like feeding-coffee-to-a-tribble-level bad. They’re bound to give the little devils ideas. The ones they come up with on their own are bad enough!”
“Maybe you should try reading the kids a slightly more familiar and traditional story first,” Rutherford suggested retrieving a padd from his personal storage locker. “Like a fairy tale or something.”
“What’s a fairy?” Tendi asked curiously.
“A mythical creature from various Human cultures often depicted as winged humanoids,” Boimler explained. “They are usually considered to be magical and mischievous beings or nature spirits of shorter-than-average stature.”
“Sure, that’s the sanitized version,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “The original tales about fairies described them as harmful changelings that caused disease, stole babies and whose direct encounters with usually led to sudden death.”
“What?!” Tendi gasped. “Oh my gosh! That’s terrible! And Humans willing tell children such stories?”
“Uh, well sometimes,” Boimler gulped nervously. “It depends on who you ask…”
“Don’t worry. There are plenty of perfectly good fairy tales that don’t involve harmful fairies,” Rutherford assured quickly displaying a file from the Cerritos’ cultural library on his padd. “Like this one. The story of Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Oooh, I never heard that one before,” Tendi noted. “Can you read it to me?”
“Sure,” Rutherford said sitting next to her. “Here we go.”
“Yay. Story time,” Mariner mock clapped leaning against a bulkhead. “Pass the milk and cookies. Or better yet, Romulan ale and triple-loaded nachos.”
“Once upon a time,” Rutherford began reading from his padd. “There was a young girl named Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Hold on a second,” Tendi interrupted. “Is she a fairy?”
“No, she’s a regular human girl,” Rutherford said.
“Are there any fairies in this story?” Tendi inquired.
“No,” Rutherford shook his head.
“Then how can it be a fairy tale if there are no fairies in it?” Tendi asked.
“Uh,” Rutherford blinked for a moment. “Gee, I never thought of that. That’s a good question.”
“And here we go,” Mariner smirked.
“The use of the label ‘fairy story’ is traditional poetic license used as an umbrella term to more easily organize and identify related content under a common media franchise,” Boimler explained. “Like how there are certain Toby the Targ tales that don’t actually include Toby or targs in them.”
“Ah, okay,” Tendi nodded. “That makes sense. Continue.”
“Right,” Rutheford smiled doing so. “Little Red Riding Hood was called thus because of the red cape she always wore. One day Little Red Riding Hood’s mother gave her a basket of food to deliver to her sick grandmother who lived alone in the middle of the forest.”
“Wait, the sick grandmother lives alone?” Tendi frowned. “She’s presumably an old lady. Why doesn’t she live with her daughter and Little Red Riding Hood? That would make it much easier for them to feed and support her. And provide needed medical care.”
“Uh,” Rutherford blinked pausing again. “I…actually have no idea.”
“And the mother just sends Little Red Riding Hood out alone,” Tendi went on. “What kind of good parenting is that?”
“Um,” Boimler stuttered. “Well, when you put it like that, it does sound rather bad.”
“I’ll say!” Tendi huffed. “Why doesn’t Little Red Riding Hood’s mother go out to deliver the food herself? Does she have a job or something that prevents her from doing so?”
“Uh, I guess,” Rutherford shrugged. “Though it’s not exactly stated.”
“Eh, Little Red’s mom probably had to stay and take care of their house,” Mariner waved. “As a presumed single parent she had to work hard in order to make a living and so obviously couldn’t spare the time to make the trip. Life was tough back in those days.”
“Some things never change,” Boimler noted.
“Ah, okay,” Tendi nodded. “I guess that’s a slightly better explanation. Still not very responsible though.”
“Yet another reason why I’m thankful for a life with easy access to replicators, sonic showers and transporters,” Rutherford attempted to press on. “Anyway, Little Red Riding Hood dutifully headed down the forest path with the food basket. She soon encountered a hungry wolf who asked her where she was going.”
“Wait,” Tendi turned to Boimler. “I thought you said Earth dogs don’t talk.”
“I did and they can’t,” Boimler confirmed.
“But dogs are the descendants of wolves,” Tendi pointed out. “So does that mean Earth wolves can talk and Earth dogs lost the ability to do so somewhere along the way?”
“No,” Boimler explained. “Neither Earth wolves nor Earth dogs can talk. Along with most other non-human Earth animals.”
“Whales and other cetaceans excepted,” Rutherford added.
“But you just said…” Tendi began.
“Again, poetic license and made-up literary device,” Mariner stated. “Just go with it, T.”
“Well, okay,” Tendi looked somewhat skeptical.
“Great. Anyway,” Rutherford turned back to the story. “Little Red Riding Hood told the wolf that she was taking a basket of food to her sick grandmother.”
“Aw, that’s nice,” Tendi commented. “Does Little Red Riding Hood offer to share some of her food with the hungry wolf?”
“Nope,” Rutherford shook his head. “The wolf distracts Little Red Riding Hood by suggesting she pick some flowers to bring to her grandmother. While she does so the wolf goes on ahead to the grandmother’s house…”
“Wait, how did the wolf know where Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother lived?” Tendi asked. “She didn’t mention the exact address. For all the wolf knew Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother’s house could have been anywhere. Like in a village or city or some other well-populated area.”
“Uh, well the grandmother lived alone in the middle of the forest,” Rutherford reasoned. “And there was a path leading to her house so it was probably pretty easy to find.”
“But paths are made by being traversed and worn down on a regular basis,” Tendi pointed out. “So how could there be a single path through the forest that only led between two houses? Where were their neighbors and all the other people?”
“Uh…” Rutherford looked somewhat flummoxed.
“Little Red, her mother and grandmother were social loners,” Mariner provided. “They lived sad hermit-like existences. Like Boimler on a Friday night.”
“Hey!” Boimler shot Mariner a glare.
“Ah, okay,” Tendi nodded. “Now I understand.”
“At least someone around here does,” Boimler grumbled.
“And Little Red Riding Hood living alone with her mother also explains why she is so naturally trusting,” Tendi noted. “Though it does make her character somewhat unrealistic. A kind, innocent and enthusiastic girl who likes nature, animals and wants to be friends with everyone. Can you imagine anyone actually behaving like that?” Tendi glanced at her friends only to find them all giving her strange looks. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Rutherford coughed and quickly attempted to continue with the story. “Let’s move on. Now, the wolf arrived at Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother’s house, easily broke in and found the grandmother lying in bed before swallowing her whole…”
“WHAT?!” Tendi yelped. “The wolf eats the grandmother alive?! What kind of sick, horrifying folktale is this?”
“A children’s story,” Mariner stated obviously. “Duh.”
“And how could a wolf swallow an entire grown Human alive?” Tendi asked. “Earth wolves aren’t nearly big enough to do that.”
“Uh,” Rutherford tried to come up with an explanation.
“And they can’t stretch their jaws wide like various species of pythons either,” Tendi went on. “Wolves have powerful jaws and teeth for a reason. If the wolf really wanted to eat the grandmother, it would have simply bitten her neck, severed her carotid artery and waited for her to bleed out before ripping her body to shreds…”
“Well, the wolf made an exception in this case,” Boimler gulped looking slightly green. “Plus, such an unnecessarily graphic description would obviously be too upsetting for children.”
“And having the wolf swallow a sick, elderly grandmother alive isn’t?” Tendi gave him a look.
“Uh,” Boimler stuttered uncomfortably.
“Well, Little Red’s granny was sick and undoubtably underweight,” Mariner reasoned. “Which evidently made it possible for her to be swallowed up by the big bad wolf. Oh, wait. That’s a different story…”
“What?!” Tendi gasped.
“Don’t worry! Everything turns out okay!” Rutherford attempted to assure Tendi. “See, the wolf swallows the grandmother, but the grandmother is still alive. And then Little Red Riding Hood arrives at the house so the wolf quickly dresses up in some of the grandmother’s spare clothing before jumping into bed and lying under a blanket…”
“Why?” Tendi asked.
“To fool Little Red Riding Hood and prevent her from immediately running away,” Boimler explained.
“And Little Red Riding Hood couldn’t tell the difference between her grandmother and a wolf wearing her clothes?” Tendi looked confused. “A wolf she had seen just a short time before? Did Little Red Riding Hood have really bad eyesight or something?”
“Um, maybe,” Rutherford shrugged. “Or Little Red Riding Hood had simply never met her grandmother before. Or her grandmother’s house was really poorly lit.”
“But the wolf’s stomach would have gotten much bigger after having just swallowed the grandmother,” Tendi continued. “The size difference alone between the big wolf and her smaller, sick grandmother should have been an indication to Little Red Riding Hood that something was off. Not to mention her ‘grandmother’ suddenly having a protruding snout and lots more body hair.”
“I dunno. I know a few folks whose looks are like that,” Mariner noted. “My Aunt Edgar for one.”
“Which brings us to the next part of the story,” Rutherford said reading from his padd. “Little Red Riding Hood approaches the bed and says, ‘Grandmother, what a deep voice you have.’ ‘All the better to greet you with,’ says the wolf.”
“Again, Little Red Riding Hood had just spoken to the wolf earlier,” Tendi noted. “Wouldn’t she have easily recognized the voice?”
“Nobody said Little Red Riding Hood was particularly intelligent,” Mariner pointed out. “This is the same girl who talks to potentially dangerous animals she just met and has trouble recognizing her own grandmother.”
“Ah, right,” Tendi nodded.
“Moving on,” Rutherford continued with the story. “Little Red Riding Hood then says, ‘Grandmother, what big eyes you have.’ ‘All the better to see you with,’ says the wolf.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Tendi frowned once more. “Wolf eyes are about the same size as most humanoid eyes. On average they’re actually a little smaller.”
“Again, Little Red Riding Hood obviously wasn’t very bright,” Mariner snorted. “Or an experienced, well-informed scientist.”
“There never are in fairy tales,” Boimler pointed out. “Unfortunately.”
“Little Red Riding Hood continues to comment about the wolf,” Rutherford read on. “‘Grandmother, what big ears you have.’ “All the better to hear you with,’ says the wolf.”
“Seriously? That isn’t a tip off?” Tendi looked very skeptical.
“‘Grandmother, what big teeth you have,” Rutherford continued. “‘All the better you eat you with,’ the wolf replies right before leaping out of bed and eating Little Red Riding Hood up.”
“WHAT?!” Tendi yelped. “Not again! And this time the wolf eats a little girl! This story is disgusting!”
“Well, yeah,” Mariner remarked. “It’s a fairy tale after all.”
“Wait! The story isn’t over yet! Everything turns out okay in the end!” Rutherford insisted. “A hunter then arrives at the house having been tracking the wolf for some time. The hunter then rescues Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother by slicing open the wolf’s belly with an axe…”
“WHAT?!” Tendi cried.
“Hey, open body surgery,” Mariner commented. “Guess this story has a sciency medical scene after all. Even though it’s performed without any anesthesia. “
“So the wolf dies after the hunter retrieves the partially digested bodies of Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother?” Tendi asked in horror.
“No, Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother are still alive and unharmed,” Rutherford corrected quickly.
“Physically anyway,” Mariner quipped. “Mentally however…”
“And the hunter fills the wolf’s stomach with rocks before sewing it back up,” Rutherford went on. “Which causes the wolf to collapse and die when the wolf tries to run away…okay, maybe things don’t turn out okay for everyone…”
“I’ll say!” Tendi huffed. “This is the most disturbing folktale I have ever heard! I can’t believe Humans think it is an appropriate story to tell children.”
“Okay, looking back on it, Little Red Riding Hood may not be the best story for kids,” Boimler coughed uncomfortably. “But it’s the exception rather than the rule.”
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Once Upon a Starship
“Oh boy! This is going to be fun!” Tendi chirped happily clutching a padd while sitting on her bunk. “Just need to make sure I have everything. Cloak, check. Rope, check. Grappling hook, dagger, lockpicks, check, check, check…”
“Grappling hook, dagger and lockpicks?” Rutherford repeated appearing around the corner with Boimler and Mariner. “What could you possibly need those for?”
“Yeah, spill it, T,” Mariner prodded. “Did you get roped into going along on another brutal survival training session with Shaxs?”
“For your sake I hope not,” Boimler shuddered. “I still have nightmares after being forced to participate in his last one.”
“Oh, hi guys!” Tendi greeted looking up. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing like that. I’m just prepping a few things for my upcoming volunteer shift helping to watch over the Cerritos’ kindergarteners.”
“Oh man, that’s even worse,” Mariner whistled with a wince. “Survival training is nothing compared with trying to ride herd on that wild pack of unruly demons. What are you planning to do? Tie the little hellions up and threaten them to behave? Trust me, it doesn’t work. I know from experience.”
“Of course not,” Tendi made a face. “I’m simply going to read the kids a collection of classic Orion folktale heists. The lockpicks and stuff are child-safe props to help bring the stories to life!”
“Well that sounds nice,” Boimler nodded. “Though I’m not sure your selection of reading material is the best choice for presenting to children.”
“Why not?” Tendi frowned giving Boimler a warning look. “Are you prejudiced against Orion folktales or something?”
“No! No! Not at all!” Boimler insisted holding up his hands. “I’m just worried about the heist part of the folktales.”
“Why? What’s wrong with heists?” Tendi asked innocently. “All Orion folktales involve heists of one sort or another. Heists are a common theme which transcend all regional and ethnical boundaries.”
“Gee, what a surprise,” Mariner drawled.
“That’s…interesting,” Boimler said diplomatically. “But are stories about heists really the best material for presenting to impressionable little kids?”
“Of course they are,” Tendi said matter-of-factly. “Heist stories encourage children to be witty, creative, inventive and resourceful. Not to mention teaching them the importance of proper planning, observation skills and problem solving.”
“O-kay,” Boimler blinked for a moment. “That may be, but such stories also teach kids that stealing from others is socially acceptable.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Tendi waved. “The use of heists in Orion folktales is simply a common storytelling technique used to advance the plot and flesh out the characters instead of being the purpose of the tales themselves. I’m sure the Cerritos’ kindergarteners will be smart enough to tell the difference.”
“I dunno, T. I gotta side with Boims on this one,” Mariner commented. “Telling heist tales to the ship’s kids is like feeding-coffee-to-a-tribble-level bad. They’re bound to give the little devils ideas. The ones they come up with on their own are bad enough!”
“Maybe you should try reading the kids a slightly more familiar and traditional story first,” Rutherford suggested retrieving a padd from his personal storage locker. “Like a fairy tale or something.”
“What’s a fairy?” Tendi asked curiously.
“A mythical creature from various Human cultures often depicted as winged humanoids,” Boimler explained. “They are usually considered to be magical and mischievous beings or nature spirits of shorter-than-average stature.”
“Sure, that’s the sanitized version,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “The original tales about fairies described them as harmful changelings that caused disease, stole babies and whose direct encounters with usually led to sudden death.”
“What?!” Tendi gasped. “Oh my gosh! That’s terrible! And Humans willing tell children such stories?”
“Uh, well sometimes,” Boimler gulped nervously. “It depends on who you ask…”
“Don’t worry. There are plenty of perfectly good fairy tales that don’t involve harmful fairies,” Rutherford assured quickly displaying a file from the Cerritos’ cultural library on his padd. “Like this one. The story of Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Oooh, I never heard that one before,” Tendi noted. “Can you read it to me?”
“Sure,” Rutherford said sitting next to her. “Here we go.”
“Yay. Story time,” Mariner mock clapped leaning against a bulkhead. “Pass the milk and cookies. Or better yet, Romulan ale and triple-loaded nachos.”
“Once upon a time,” Rutherford began reading from his padd. “There was a young girl named Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Hold on a second,” Tendi interrupted. “Is she a fairy?”
“No, she’s a regular human girl,” Rutherford said.
“Are there any fairies in this story?” Tendi inquired.
“No,” Rutherford shook his head.
“Then how can it be a fairy tale if there are no fairies in it?” Tendi asked.
“Uh,” Rutherford blinked for a moment. “Gee, I never thought of that. That’s a good question.”
“And here we go,” Mariner smirked.
“The use of the label ‘fairy story’ is traditional poetic license used as an umbrella term to more easily organize and identify related content under a common media franchise,” Boimler explained. “Like how there are certain Toby the Targ tales that don’t actually include Toby or targs in them.”
“Ah, okay,” Tendi nodded. “That makes sense. Continue.”
“Right,” Rutheford smiled doing so. “Little Red Riding Hood was called thus because of the red cape she always wore. One day Little Red Riding Hood’s mother gave her a basket of food to deliver to her sick grandmother who lived alone in the middle of the forest.”
“Wait, the sick grandmother lives alone?” Tendi frowned. “She’s presumably an old lady. Why doesn’t she live with her daughter and Little Red Riding Hood? That would make it much easier for them to feed and support her. And provide needed medical care.”
“Uh,” Rutherford blinked pausing again. “I…actually have no idea.”
“And the mother just sends Little Red Riding Hood out alone,” Tendi went on. “What kind of good parenting is that?”
“Um,” Boimler stuttered. “Well, when you put it like that, it does sound rather bad.”
“I’ll say!” Tendi huffed. “Why doesn’t Little Red Riding Hood’s mother go out to deliver the food herself? Does she have a job or something that prevents her from doing so?”
“Uh, I guess,” Rutherford shrugged. “Though it’s not exactly stated.”
“Eh, Little Red’s mom probably had to stay and take care of their house,” Mariner waved. “As a presumed single parent she had to work hard in order to make a living and so obviously couldn’t spare the time to make the trip. Life was tough back in those days.”
“Some things never change,” Boimler noted.
“Ah, okay,” Tendi nodded. “I guess that’s a slightly better explanation. Still not very responsible though.”
“Yet another reason why I’m thankful for a life with easy access to replicators, sonic showers and transporters,” Rutherford attempted to press on. “Anyway, Little Red Riding Hood dutifully headed down the forest path with the food basket. She soon encountered a hungry wolf who asked her where she was going.”
“Wait,” Tendi turned to Boimler. “I thought you said Earth dogs don’t talk.”
“I did and they can’t,” Boimler confirmed.
“But dogs are the descendants of wolves,” Tendi pointed out. “So does that mean Earth wolves can talk and Earth dogs lost the ability to do so somewhere along the way?”
“No,” Boimler explained. “Neither Earth wolves nor Earth dogs can talk. Along with most other non-human Earth animals.”
“Whales and other cetaceans excepted,” Rutherford added.
“But you just said…” Tendi began.
“Again, poetic license and made-up literary device,” Mariner stated. “Just go with it, T.”
“Well, okay,” Tendi looked somewhat skeptical.
“Great. Anyway,” Rutherford turned back to the story. “Little Red Riding Hood told the wolf that she was taking a basket of food to her sick grandmother.”
“Aw, that’s nice,” Tendi commented. “Does Little Red Riding Hood offer to share some of her food with the hungry wolf?”
“Nope,” Rutherford shook his head. “The wolf distracts Little Red Riding Hood by suggesting she pick some flowers to bring to her grandmother. While she does so the wolf goes on ahead to the grandmother’s house…”
“Wait, how did the wolf know where Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother lived?” Tendi asked. “She didn’t mention the exact address. For all the wolf knew Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother’s house could have been anywhere. Like in a village or city or some other well-populated area.”
“Uh, well the grandmother lived alone in the middle of the forest,” Rutherford reasoned. “And there was a path leading to her house so it was probably pretty easy to find.”
“But paths are made by being traversed and worn down on a regular basis,” Tendi pointed out. “So how could there be a single path through the forest that only led between two houses? Where were their neighbors and all the other people?”
“Uh…” Rutherford looked somewhat flummoxed.
“Little Red, her mother and grandmother were social loners,” Mariner provided. “They lived sad hermit-like existences. Like Boimler on a Friday night.”
“Hey!” Boimler shot Mariner a glare.
“Ah, okay,” Tendi nodded. “Now I understand.”
“At least someone around here does,” Boimler grumbled.
“And Little Red Riding Hood living alone with her mother also explains why she is so naturally trusting,” Tendi noted. “Though it does make her character somewhat unrealistic. A kind, innocent and enthusiastic girl who likes nature, animals and wants to be friends with everyone. Can you imagine anyone actually behaving like that?” Tendi glanced at her friends only to find them all giving her strange looks. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Rutherford coughed and quickly attempted to continue with the story. “Let’s move on. Now, the wolf arrived at Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother’s house, easily broke in and found the grandmother lying in bed before swallowing her whole…”
“WHAT?!” Tendi yelped. “The wolf eats the grandmother alive?! What kind of sick, horrifying folktale is this?”
“A children’s story,” Mariner stated obviously. “Duh.”
“And how could a wolf swallow an entire grown Human alive?” Tendi asked. “Earth wolves aren’t nearly big enough to do that.”
“Uh,” Rutherford tried to come up with an explanation.
“And they can’t stretch their jaws wide like various species of pythons either,” Tendi went on. “Wolves have powerful jaws and teeth for a reason. If the wolf really wanted to eat the grandmother, it would have simply bitten her neck, severed her carotid artery and waited for her to bleed out before ripping her body to shreds…”
“Well, the wolf made an exception in this case,” Boimler gulped looking slightly green. “Plus, such an unnecessarily graphic description would obviously be too upsetting for children.”
“And having the wolf swallow a sick, elderly grandmother alive isn’t?” Tendi gave him a look.
“Uh,” Boimler stuttered uncomfortably.
“Well, Little Red’s granny was sick and undoubtably underweight,” Mariner reasoned. “Which evidently made it possible for her to be swallowed up by the big bad wolf. Oh, wait. That’s a different story…”
“What?!” Tendi gasped.
“Don’t worry! Everything turns out okay!” Rutherford attempted to assure Tendi. “See, the wolf swallows the grandmother, but the grandmother is still alive. And then Little Red Riding Hood arrives at the house so the wolf quickly dresses up in some of the grandmother’s spare clothing before jumping into bed and lying under a blanket…”
“Why?” Tendi asked.
“To fool Little Red Riding Hood and prevent her from immediately running away,” Boimler explained.
“And Little Red Riding Hood couldn’t tell the difference between her grandmother and a wolf wearing her clothes?” Tendi looked confused. “A wolf she had seen just a short time before? Did Little Red Riding Hood have really bad eyesight or something?”
“Um, maybe,” Rutherford shrugged. “Or Little Red Riding Hood had simply never met her grandmother before. Or her grandmother’s house was really poorly lit.”
“But the wolf’s stomach would have gotten much bigger after having just swallowed the grandmother,” Tendi continued. “The size difference alone between the big wolf and her smaller, sick grandmother should have been an indication to Little Red Riding Hood that something was off. Not to mention her ‘grandmother’ suddenly having a protruding snout and lots more body hair.”
“I dunno. I know a few folks whose looks are like that,” Mariner noted. “My Aunt Edgar for one.”
“Which brings us to the next part of the story,” Rutherford said reading from his padd. “Little Red Riding Hood approaches the bed and says, ‘Grandmother, what a deep voice you have.’ ‘All the better to greet you with,’ says the wolf.”
“Again, Little Red Riding Hood had just spoken to the wolf earlier,” Tendi noted. “Wouldn’t she have easily recognized the voice?”
“Nobody said Little Red Riding Hood was particularly intelligent,” Mariner pointed out. “This is the same girl who talks to potentially dangerous animals she just met and has trouble recognizing her own grandmother.”
“Ah, right,” Tendi nodded.
“Moving on,” Rutherford continued with the story. “Little Red Riding Hood then says, ‘Grandmother, what big eyes you have.’ ‘All the better to see you with,’ says the wolf.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Tendi frowned once more. “Wolf eyes are about the same size as most humanoid eyes. On average they’re actually a little smaller.”
“Again, Little Red Riding Hood obviously wasn’t very bright,” Mariner snorted. “Or an experienced, well-informed scientist.”
“There never are in fairy tales,” Boimler pointed out. “Unfortunately.”
“Little Red Riding Hood continues to comment about the wolf,” Rutherford read on. “‘Grandmother, what big ears you have.’ “All the better to hear you with,’ says the wolf.”
“Seriously? That isn’t a tip off?” Tendi looked very skeptical.
“‘Grandmother, what big teeth you have,” Rutherford continued. “‘All the better you eat you with,’ the wolf replies right before leaping out of bed and eating Little Red Riding Hood up.”
“WHAT?!” Tendi yelped. “Not again! And this time the wolf eats a little girl! This story is disgusting!”
“Well, yeah,” Mariner remarked. “It’s a fairy tale after all.”
“Wait! The story isn’t over yet! Everything turns out okay in the end!” Rutherford insisted. “A hunter then arrives at the house having been tracking the wolf for some time. The hunter then rescues Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother by slicing open the wolf’s belly with an axe…”
“WHAT?!” Tendi cried.
“Hey, open body surgery,” Mariner commented. “Guess this story has a sciency medical scene after all. Even though it’s performed without any anesthesia. “
“So the wolf dies after the hunter retrieves the partially digested bodies of Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother?” Tendi asked in horror.
“No, Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother are still alive and unharmed,” Rutherford corrected quickly.
“Physically anyway,” Mariner quipped. “Mentally however…”
“And the hunter fills the wolf’s stomach with rocks before sewing it back up,” Rutherford went on. “Which causes the wolf to collapse and die when the wolf tries to run away…okay, maybe things don’t turn out okay for everyone…”
“I’ll say!” Tendi huffed. “This is the most disturbing folktale I have ever heard! I can’t believe Humans think it is an appropriate story to tell children.”
“Okay, looking back on it, Little Red Riding Hood may not be the best story for kids,” Boimler coughed uncomfortably. “But it’s the exception rather than the rule.”
