Thread: Fairy Tales: Where Are They Now (Short Short Stories)

I hate it that everyone assumes that the clothes I wear define who I am. That's so shallow. Noone understands me, especially not my mother. And so when she first told me that I needed to take a stupid picnic basket to grandma who was home sick, naturally I rebelled. My inner wolf reared its head, roaming the forests of my mind, and I assumed that this trip would be a waste of my time. How wrong I was! When I arrived at grandma's I quickly realized that her inner wolf had positively devoured her. I could hardly recognize her. And no, I don't think it was delirium. We connected on so many levels. I could tell her anything, and we talked until the middle of the night. Around midnight we felt like a snack, so we looked inside that stupid picnic basket my mom had sent with me, but all it contained were some healthy easily digestible foods. Blah! Grandma surprised me by unearthing a gallon of ice cream from her freezer, so we shared it straight out of the package. The only thing that could have made that night more perfect would have been if a handsome guy had suddenly burst into the apartment, and hunted me down. You may think that that is shocking for a visit to grandma's, but I got a feeling grandma wouldn't have minded at all. She gets me, even if she was originally the one who gave me that stupid coat that led to the nickname. Oh, how I hate it when people call me that! I am not little anymore, you know. Call me Wolverine! Girl power with long sharp finger nails.