Little Red, Riding In The Hood

January 17, 2013
By Anonymous

Little Red, Riding in the Hood

I’ve done this my entire life, well not my entire life, but for the majority of the 17 years I’ve been alive. Every day is the same. I wake up and throw on my red hoodie and flip up the hood. I love this hoodie. I like that when I wear the hood no one can see my face, and most of the time I don’t have to see theirs, which is a good thing. Out here, if you make eye contact with the wrong person you could end up dead before you even knew what hit you. I live in what you would probably refer to as “The Projects”, if you haven’t already figured that out.

I step outside and start walking towards my Grandmas house. A few people greet me on the sidewalk, or from the lawn chairs in their front yard. “Eyyy Little Red, hurry on back from your Grandmas today, kay?” one of them said. I agreed and kept on my way. Little Red, that’s my name around here. For whatever reason, living where I’m living, people never go by their first names. My name is Clarence, but only my mom knows that, and she’s been dead for a couple years now. Out here in the open I’m just Little Red, the delivery boy. I’m pretty short, and I wear this same red coat every day, hence the name Little Red. As for the delivery boy part, ya, I do that too. Not newspapers though, drugs. You name it, I can get it for you. Everyone out here is just trying to get their fix. I think it is kind of pathetic and sad how these people are willing to live in such poor conditions just so they can afford a drug to help them forget about it.

On my way to my Grandmas I pass a couple more frequenters, and they let me know what they want, and I promise to get it to them before dark. Their reaction is always the same. They recognize me in my red hoodie, their dull eyes light up a little bit and they desperately rummage around in their pockets for something to pay me with. That, or they promise to be able to pay me by delivery time. I keep walking and make my way past my old school. I dropped out last year, I kind of miss it. I can’t help but think where I would be today if I just would have stayed.

Past my old school is a patch of forest. Deep within the forest lives my Grandma, it is a lot safer for her to live here than in the streets. I’m walking down the trail when I hear the all too familiar sound of padding behind me. I immediately know what it is; it’s that stupid wolf again. It thinks it’s a human and even walks on two legs. It’s pretty stupid and clumsy, always stepping on sticks. It thinks I can’t see him, but I am a lot smarter than I may appear to be. Ya, I make some pretty stupid decisions, but back in school I was at the top of my class. Now, I don’t exactly understand why this wolf follows me every day, but he just does. He always disappears before I get to my Grandmas though.

Once I get to my grandmas I stay for lunch, pick up what I need, and leave again. My Grandma is probably one of the biggest distributors in the state. She does everything behind closed doors and doesn’t often speak of where she gets any of it. She’s just too old to sell it all herself so she enlisted me to help her when I was around 12 years old. I get half the profit so I don’t really mind, and even though I don’t agree with what’s going on, if people don’t buy it from us I guarantee they will get it somewhere else anyways.

I walk towards home and make my deliveries as I do so. By the time I’m home the sun has set. I take todays profit out and set it on the table; I literally have a table overflowing with money. I f get to thinking about what’s the point of having all this money if I don’t have anyone to spend it on. I used to do this because I thought it was cool, but these days I almost feel just as pathetic as the people that buy the stuff.
I must have fallen asleep mid thought, because I woke up and it was already morning again. I get up and begin my routine again. I reached the trail and begun my decent to my grandmas. I look around and enjoy the peace and quiet. Wait a minute, it’s quiet. There’s no wolf. Maybe he finally found something better to do. I get to my grandmas and something just doesn’t seem right, the front door wasn’t completely closed. I know I shut it yesterday and I know my grandma hasn’t left her house in years. I swing open the door, unprepared as to what I was about to find inside.
Instead of my little old granny greeting me, the wolf did. The even creepier part was he was dressed up like my grandma, pink dress and all. Now, I didn’t lose my cool right then and there, but it was pretty off-putting .“Hello sweetie! What kind of drugs you need today?” said the wolf. He dropped the plastic bags he was holding and bent down to pick them up, exposing the collar of a bright blue police uniform. This wolf must have thought I was pretty dang stupid to think I would fall for any of that. So instead of answering his questions, I decided to ask my own.
“Grandma, I never noticed what big feet you have, have they always been that way?” I said.
“Why yes, they have. Now, why don’t you just tell grandma what you need like a good boy” replied the wolf. Boy, he was really trying.
“And your hands Grandma, I never noticed how big those were either.”
“Uhh yeah, they’ve always been that way. How about you just tell Grandma what you need now?” His voice was a bit shaky.
“What about your ears, have those always been that big and fluffy?” Now I was just messing with him.
“Uh.. Uhhh..” He was lost on what to say, and was starting to figure out that I had already figured him out. I heard a loud banging coming from the closet. I hadn’t even thought about where my actual grandma might be, but now I had a pretty good idea. The wolf suddenly gets up from where he was sitting. “Alright, you got me. Hands in the air! You’re under arrest for the distribution of narcotics!” He rips of the dress and comes after me. We struggle for a while before I’m able to get an arm around his neck and put him in a sleeper hold. It didn’t take too long for it to work; he passed out almost right away. It wasn’t a very fair fight; opposable thumbs kind of gave me the upper hand you could say. I ran to the closet and untied my grandma; we had to get out of there. I take her to my house and we sit and think. The cops know, well maybe, depending on if wolf-cops count as real cops. My grandmas silent.

I get up and grab my back pack and start shoveling all of my coffee table money into it. By estimation its about $100,000. “What are you doing? Where are we going?” asked my Grandma. I thought for a second before I responded.
“Grandma, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been doing some thinking and I want out of this business. I want to leave this place and I want to go back to finish school.” She doesn’t say anything for a while.
“I’d like that too, I think” she finally said.
And with that we packed what we could carry, and left. Before I shut the door I looked behind me, my red hoodie was laying on the floor. My first reaction was to pick it up. Instead, I just shut the door. That was the past. The point of leaving is to move on and start over.
And they both lived happily ever after. The end. ?

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