PC Little Red Riding HoodThere once was a young person named Little Red Riding Chelsea who lived on
the edge of a large forest full of endangered owls and rare plants that would
probably provide a cure for cancer if only someone took the time to study
them.
Red Riding Chelsea lived with a nurture giver whom she sometimes referred
to as "mother", although she didn't mean to imply by this term that she would
have thought less of the person if a close biological link did not in fact
exist. Nor did she intend to denigrate the equal value of nontraditional
households, although she was sorry if this was the impression conveyed.
One day Comrad Hillary asked her to take a basket of organically grown
fruit and mineral water to her grandmother's house.
"But mother, won't this be stealing work from the unionized people who have
struggled for years to earn the right to carry all packages between various
people in the woods?"
Red Riding Chelsea's mother assured her that she had called the union boss
and gotten a special compassionate mission exemption form.
"But mother, aren't you oppressing me by ordering me to do this?"
Comrad Hillary pointed out that it was impossible for women to
oppress each other, since all women were equally oppressed until all women
were free.
"But comrad mother, then shouldn't you have my father carry the
basket,since he's an oppressor, and should learn what it's like to be oppressed?"
And Red Riding Chelsea's mother explained that her father was attending a
special rally against male abuse, and besides, this wasn't stereotypical
women's work, but an empowering deed that would help engender a feeling of
community.
"But won't I be oppressing Grandma Klinton, by implying that she's sick and
hence unable to independently further her own selfhood?"
But Comrad Hillary explained that her grandmother wasn't actually
sick or incapacitated or mentally handicapped in any way, although that was
not to imply that any of these conditions were inferior to what some people
called "health".
Thus Red Riding Chelsea felt that she could get behind the idea of
delivering the basket to her grandmother, and so she set off.
Many people believed that the woods and trailor park was a foreboding and
dangerous place, but Red Riding Chelsea knew that this was an irrational
fear based on cultural paradigms instilled by a patriarchal society that
regarded the natural world as an exploitable resource, and hence believed
that natural predators were in fact intolerable competitors.
Other people avoided trailor parks for fear of thieves and deviants, but
Red Riding Chelsea felt that in a truly classless society all marginalized
peoples would be able to "come out" of the woods and be accepted as valid
lifestyle role models.
On her way to Grandma's trailor, Red Riding Chelsea passed a evil
woodchopper, and fled the path, in order to examine some flowers, of
course. She was startled to find herself standing before a Wolf, who asked
her what was in her basket.
Red Riding Chelsea's teacher had warned her never to talk to strangers, but
she was confident in taking control of her own budding sexuality, and chose
to dialogue with the Wolf.
She replied, "I am taking my Grandmother some healthful snacks in a gesture
of solidarity."
The Wolf said, "You know, my dear, it isn't safe for a little girl to walk
through these woods and the trailor park alone."
But the look-challenged young Comerad said, "I find your sexist remark
offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional
status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to
develop an alternative and yet entirely valid worldview. Now, if you'll excuse
me, I would prefer to be on my way."
Red Riding Chelsea returned to the main path, and proceeded towards her
Grandmother's trailor.
But because his status outside society had freed him from slavish adherence
to linear, Western-style thought, the Wolf knew of a quicker route to
Grandma's lot number.
He burst into the hovel and ate Grandma Klinton, a course of action
affirmative of his nature as a predator.
Then, unhampered by rigid, traditionalist gender role notions, he put on
Grandma's nightclothes, crawled under the bedclothes, and awaited
developments .
Red Riding Chelsea entered the trailor and said, "Grandma, I have brought
you some cruelty free snacks to salute you in your role of wise and nurturing
matriarch."
The Wolf said softly "Come closer, child, so that I might see you"
Red Riding Chelsea said, "Goodness! Grandma, what big eyes you have!"
"You forget that I am optically challenged."
"And Grandma Klinton, what an enormous, what a fine nose you have."
"Naturally, I could have had it fixed to help my acting career, but I
didn't give in to such societal pressures, my child."
"And Grandma, what very big, sharp teeth you have!"
The Wolf could not take any more of these specist slurs, and, in a reaction
appropriate for his accustomed milieu, he leaped out of bed, grabbed Little
Red Riding Chelsea, and opened his jaws so wide that she could see her poor
Grandmother cowering in his belly.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Red Riding Chelsea bravely shouted. "You
must request my permission before proceeding to a new level of intimacy!"
The Wolf was so startled by this statement that he loosened his grasp on
her. At the same time, the woodchopper burst into the cottage, brandishing
an ax.
"Hands off!" cried the evil woodchopper.
"And what do you think you're doing?" cried Little Red Riding Chelsea. "If
I let you help me now, I would be expressing a lack of confidence in my own
abilities, which would lead to poor self esteem and lower achievement
scores on college entrance exams."
"Last chance, sister! Get your hands off that endangered species! This is
an Environmental sting!" screamed the woodchopper cum government beurocrat,
and when Little Red Riding Chelsea nonetheless made a sudden motion, he
sliced off her head, eschiewing all use of firearms and thus smashing the
Capitalist money schemes of the merchants of non-viability at Colt, Ruger
and Glock.
"Thank goodness you got here in time," said the Wolf. "The brat and her
grandmother lured me in here. I thought I was a goner."
"No, I think I'm the real victim, here," said the beurocrat. "I've been
dealing with my anger ever since I saw her picking those protected flowers
earlier. And now I'm going to have such a trauma. Do you have any shrooms?"
"Sure," said the Wolf.
"Thanks."
"I feel your pain," said the Wolf, and he patted the ATF agent on his
firm, well padded backside...
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"hooked on fonix"
Olympia WA
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