Evil Fairy Tales for Evil Children

Those Wascally Bears


The driver panicked his brakes and the little car screeched to a stop.
There was a large bear in the road.
The damn thing wouldn't move. The driver of the sports car whose name was Bob hit the horn repeatedly but the animal seemed stubbornly deaf. Cautiously, Bob rolled down the window a quarter of an inch and yelled: "Stupid bear! Move! What the hell are you waiting for?"
To his amazement the bear approached his front bumper and spoke. "I'm waiting for Mama," said the bear.
So stunned by the talking bear, the driver failed to notice Mama had already arrived and was easily twice the size of Junior. He glanced in the rear view mirror just once, quickly rolled up his window...and fainted.
The two grunting black bears picked up the small red sports car by the bumpers and carried it into the fields, through the river and into the woods beyond. When they neared their cave, they slammed it down on its roof amidst a barren patch of stony ground, out of the cool shelter of trees.
It was a hot August day; in just a few hours, dinner would be delightfully warm.
"Nothin' beats home cookin', Ma," said Junior.
In between mouthfuls, Mama, who had never learned English but spoke fluent Russian, grunted her agreement.


Death in the Hood

Little Red Riding Hood was one mean bitch. With her boyfriend, B. B.Wolf, they had knocked over every gas station and convenience store in a hundred miles.
"The pigs won't take us alive," sneered Wolf, behind the wheel of Red's candy apple Vett, "Screw them porkers!"
Just then Red's cell phone came alive with the Eagles "One of These Nights".
"Who the hell has your number?" howled B.B. who was the insanely jealous homicidal type.
"It's Grandma," said Red. "What's up, Granny?"
"Well, Darlin', I've been hearin' about your deliriously delicious killing spree and thought you might need a place to chill for a bit. Remember Grandpa's cabin on Swampy River? The coppers don't even know it exists. What say you and your crazy-mean boy friend meet me there around six-ish. I'll bring the liquor, some sweet Oxy and a nice pork roast. I expect you're loaded now and might help out a poor ole Granny in her time of need."
"You are my cool Granny," said Red. "Meet you there!"
"Is this a good idea?" said Wolf. He was the suspicious paranoid homicidal type.
"Sure," said Red, flashing a big toothy smile (and a nipple-pierced breast as an afterthought). "If Granny gets on your nerves just cool the old hag. The pork roast sounds damn good..."
It is a regrettable but common mistake to dismiss the finely honed intuitions of full bore homicidal psychotics like Mr. Wolf. The pair arrived with smoking tires at the cabin on Swampy River only to find Granny had sold them out for the reward money. The place was surrounded by pigs; desperately, the doomed lovers fought their way into an empty cabin...empty save for the steaming pork roast sitting invitingly on a long wooden dinning table..
"Why the hell is this cabin made out of bricks?" cried Wolf in between gunshots.
"Yeah...strange. I don't remember it this way...I'm pretty sure it was cement when I was a crazy drugged-out kid..." said Red.
"Come out, you low life scum," roared the pigs, "or we'll huff and puff and blow your stinkin' house down!"
"Ah, man, that's wrong, wrong...it's all wrong. My head hurts..." whined Wolf.
And suddenly it began to rain, and the rain became a storm, and the storm became a hurricane. The brick cabin began to disintegrate around them, flying red chunks everywhere.
"There's only one way out, Wolfy," cried Red. "We eat our guns! You first, baby."
Wolf was as dumb as he was psychotic. In the end, the pigs had one dead hood and were happy as a pig in...Happy they were. Red became a heroine and wrote a best seller about her kidnapping and how her devout faith combined with her pluck and girlish spirit enabled her to survive a terrible ordeal. Later, she became a star of several reality shows including "Whose Your Sugar Daddy?" and "Treachery in the Family." Tragically for Red, Granny suffered a dizzy spell and fell down a stairwell shortly after collecting half of the reward money.
And as for the fate of the late B.B.Wolf...well, nobody gave a damn, then, now or ever.
An old blues singer named Troubled Waters came out of retirement and wrote a song about the whole damn mess, a "real genuine outlaw ballad". It sold several copies in Chicago.
Oh, and, yeah, the pigs ate the pork roast. It was poisoned. Good ole Granny.