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Little Red Mountain Biker and the Big, Fat Motorist
One day Little Red Mountain Biker was out on a little fitness ride to her grandmother’s house in the country, about 20 miles away. When she was nearly there, when she found herself being harassed by an overweight wolf in a sports car. Recognizing the danger of being hit by his car or being attacked in the lonely woods, she suggested to him on one of his passes that he meet her at Grandma’s house, the last house on the road at the edge of the mountain, where “no one is home.”
That gave Red a little bit of peace, but when she got to Grandma’s, the wolf was the only one there and was evidently waiting for her inside, either in the living room or possibly even in the bedroom. Rather than go inside, Red shouted, “I’m going for a short ride into the woods, do you want to come? You can use Grandpa’s mountain bike. We’ll have the woods to ourselves.”
Well, the wolf was not delighted with the opportunity to ride a bike; however, being in the woods alone with Red greatly appealed to him, so he followed. A short distance into the woods, Red chose the trail that plunged off of the mountain.
On the 1,000 foot descent, he was not able to quite catch her because of difficulty in controlling the bike. His bulk did give him some advantage, and he got very close to her at the bottom where he was sure she would stop to rest. However, Red had different plans, and immediately began the return climb on another trail. The wolf realized that it was now or never and used his downhill speed to nearly catch her. As he was huffing and puffing and straining and gasping, she turned and looked at him. She said, “Oh my, what big bloodshot eyes you got!” “All the better to see you with,” he managed to wheeze out. She continued, “And what big red ears you got!” “All the better to hear you with,” he gasped. “And what a big, fat belly you got!” “All the better to, to …” His mind was fogging up; he was seeing spots in front of his eyes. Just then, Red said, “Well, good-bye, I’ve got to hurry back to town; I don’t want to be late to teach my Taekwondo class.” Then she put the pedal to the metal and rapidly accelerated up the steep hill.
Hours later and long after dark, the wolf reached Grandma’s house again, badly dehydrated. There he discovered that Grandpa was the county sheriff and that Grandma was a women’s rights activist. They had a lot to say to him before they let him leave in his car. But the wolf was no danger anymore; he had completely lost his taste for Red. He preferred the small, weak, and helpless type; Red was small, but she certainly was not weak or helpless.
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