Friday chronicles V (humour)

Little Red Friday Hood
by Arty

Once upon a time in the far-away land of FDWritings there
lived a young(ish) girl call Little Red Friday Hood. Why was
she called this? Well since you ask so nicely I’ll tell you.
Of course this will derail the story I was about to tell,
but you did ask. Now where was I? Oh yes – digressing. Twice
upon a time (It’s a story within a story and I was going to
say ‘once more’ well one plus one is two and …) a sport was
born in FDWritings called Baseball. Over the years teams
were established and each gathered a following of devoted,
fanatical even, supporters. One such team bore the name
Boston Red Sox, in honour of the red stockings that they
wore. Now Little Red Friday Hood had an aged relative, Uncle
Frank Downey, who was one of these fanatical supporters and
to bring a little pleasure into his few remaining days she
always wore red stockings for him. The rest of the denizens
of FDWritings appreciated this selfless act on behalf of
this Ancient Personage and named her Little Red Friday Hood.
Now you know, so back to the main feature.

One morning Little Red Friday Hood was playing with, sorry,
by herself in the woods outside her house. Just then she
heard her mother call for her, pausing only to readjust her
clothing (perhaps ‘with’ was right after all) she ran back
to the house, for she was an obedient girl and almost never
got into trouble, mainly because she was a firm believer in
the eleventh commandment.

“Friday, I want you to visit your old and infirm Uncle Frank
and stay with him for a few days.”

“Why, mother dearest?”

“Because, he is Ancient in years and the Red Sox are playing
the Yankees for the pennant this year and I want to make
sure that the excitement doesn’t kill him, he is after all,
very old!”

“Of course. I will go at once.”

Friday was very fond of her old Uncle and this was one of
the reasons that she was happy to wear red stockings for
him. So she went to her room to collect some toys and when
her mother wasn’t looking she placed them in the basket that
she was to take with her.

“Now mind that you go straight there, I’ve heard that
there’s a Dragon on the loose not to mention The Evil Rat
Bandit* Nick of Scipio.”

(*Look this a fairy tale and we can’t have bad language in a
fairy tale – OK?)

Friday assured her mother that she wouldn’t dawdle and left
skipping gaily down the path that led to her Uncle’s house.
Friday wasn’t worried about the tales of Dragons, being a
very precocious girl, she knew all about the “Care and
Feeding of Dragons” and she had secreted a bottle of ale in
her basket for that very reason. I wonder what else she put
in her basket – let’s find out shall we? As she walked along
the woodland paths that brought her closer to her Ancient
Uncle, the sun grew ever higher in the sky and eventually
Little Red Friday Hood decided that she needed to rest.
Avoiding the obvious cliché of entering a small cottage in
an idyllic glade, she spotted a mossy bank and sat down on
it, grateful for the tree that grew so conveniently for her
to rest against. Closing her eyes she fell fast asleep; as
the last threads of consciousness left her, she wondered if
it was possible to fall slow asleep.

Now that she’s out for the count, let’s just lift the
blanket off this basket and rummage around. Well I can see
the beer and there’s a jar of honey … oh look another jar …
it’s kind of dark, what does the label say? “Chocolate
Syrup.” Hmmm who packed that I wonder, Friday or her mother?
Oh well we can hardly ask her, perhaps we will find out as
the story unfolds. Now what’s this hidden under Uncle
Frank’s washing? Oh what a kindly girl she is – an electric
massaging machine to ease the Old Fellow’s tired muscles!
I’ve haven’t seen one quite this shape before though, I
wonder what the rabbit’s ears are for? Neither am I sure
about the dog collar, I’m fairly certain Uncle Frank doesn’t
have a dog, perhaps he’s thinking of getting one?

Little Red Friday Hood stirs from her short nap just as we
replace the blanket in her basket. Phew! That was a close
one, eh? Good, she doesn’t suspect a thing. Friday stands up
and stretches luxuriously, standing on tip-toe and
stretching her arms wide – she’s just so sexy when she does
that, especially when she closes her eyes and tilts her head
back … sorry got carried away there! Now where was I?

Looking about her and feeling rested again, Little Red
Friday Hood continues on her way humming gaily to herself,
she seems very happy; oh well another little mystery to
amuse us. Now just up ahead we can see the cottage where the
Ancient and Revered person of Uncle Frank … but what’s
this? This is no old man working in his garden, stripped to
the waist and flexing his rippling muscles? (Look it’s my
fairytale and I’ll suck up to whomsoever I like ‘K?) Perhaps
it’s the gardener?

“Uncle Frank!”

“Why, hello Friday; what brings you here?” Said the
handsome* man straightening up.

(*See the previous note!)

“Mum sent me, she and dad have a hot date, so they sent me
here to ‘look after you’ so they can have the cottage to
themselves. These Fairyland cottages aren’t very big
y’know.” Said Friday waspishly, to no one in particular.

“So how are you going to ‘look after me’, my little Pet?”

At these words Friday began removing her clothes … hey
what sort of Fairytale is this? Turning her back to Frank,
Friday knelt down and retrieved the collar and lead, “Shut
up and go with the flow, I’m enjoying this!” She hissed.

“Did my little Pet say something?”

Turning Friday knelt, naked save for her red stockings and
dainty shoes, and held out the collar to Frank.

“No, Uncle Frank.” said Friday meekly.

Frank took the collar and quickly buckled it around Friday’s
slender neck, making her shiver in anticipation. Picking up
the basket he quickly inspected its contents.

“I see you didn’t meet any Dragons on your way over.”

“No Uncle Frank, for some reason I was unaccountably tired
on the way here, I think someone wanted to peek.” She said
accusingly.

By now Frank had collected the rest of Friday’s clothes,
added them to the basket and picked up her lead. With a
gentle tug Friday was encouraged to stand up and follow him
to the cottage. He turned to her, “You know, Pet, you really
should get a place of your own, by the time I was twenty
two* I’d been moved out for three years!”

(*Is this enough sucking up?)

As he looked up he noticed his wife in the doorway of the
cottage, “Look who’s come to play, Darling!”

And there gentle reader we shall leave it as our, rather
more modern than I had envisaged, fairytale must come to an
end with the immortal words …

And they all lived happily ever after.