The Grisly Death of Little Rod Rooting Hood

Little Rod Rooting Hood was carrying a bucket of lymph nodes to give to her slick grime-mammy. She skithered along the road through the woops, gargling and slinging a slappy hash ballad. A Big Bab Woof heard Little Rod Rooting Hood and his grappetite was salivated. His scummach grumbled. He drooled. I wants me that flesh baby for my petit dejeuner, he said to hisself. The Big Bab Woof confounded Little Rod Rooting Hood. Where are you sklipping to this flame winter midnight he asked.I going to my grime-mammy cause she sick with the mumf, said Little Rod Rooting Hood. I going give her this pail of body parf to eat up so she get better. Hmmm, you got that ole lady address perchance? the Woof asked. Yeah, in the woops, over by them treef, said LRRH. So the Woof went on ahead. He came to the hose where grime-mammy was lerping in a prone persition on account of her illniss. The Woof ate her up, bone and all. It was easy to eat her because grime-mammy was mostly all cellulite and had only one bone left on account of her advanced age. The Woof put on grime-mammy’s space suit and prosthetic nose so as to resemble grime-mammy in the particulars if not in the general theme. When LRRH came knocking on the entrance barrier, the Woof imitated the old lady poorly. Little Rod Rooting Hood was not intellectually accomplished, however, and failed to notice that her aged relation had acquired a canine perfuscence, as well as big eyes, big ears, and comically oversized dentition. So the Woof ate Little Rod Rooting Hood. She did not survive, as she was macerated quite effectively by the Woof’s digestive pulveration apparatus. Presently, a Hunner came along and shot the Woof. Cutting open the Woof’s gizzard, the Hunner found some indigestible personal effects of both girl and grime-mammy along with partially-decomposted remains. The Hunner said a Kaddish for the humans so violently deconstructed. He stuffed the Woof with material of the sort particular to the insides of sofa-cushions, and posed his quarry in an attitude suggestive of death at the moment of conflict. So does make consciousness make cowherds of us all.

Author: mattamati

Nothing remarkable to report. Born in suburbs. Diffidently educated. Used to do other jobs, now he does this one. Fancies self a writer.

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