“Hey, Granny,” Red Riding Hood pushed open the rough-hewn door. “Sorry, I’m late.”
She stopped in mid-explanation when she saw something half-resembling her grandmother standing in the kitchen. It clawed to open it’s blouse.
“Oh my,” said the old were-lady, whose cracking voice resembled a teenager.
Without thinking, Red said, “What hairy arms…”
“Not that again,” it said, “The last time, I barely escaped with the hair on my chinny… oh, never mind.”
Red stood with her mouth wide open, cradling a basket of jam and scones.
“Darling, put all that in the icebox. And help me with these buttons.”