10Aug
2015
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Phoebe and the Big Bad Wolf

Phoebe and the Big Bad Wolf

For now Phoebe is happy to be a fairy, but she tells everyone that she was born a witch. Mr Cricket doesn’t want to annoy her.

Winter comes. It is cold, snowy and frosty. Phoebe and Mr Cricket warm themselves on the fireplace with firewood from the forest. Someone knocks on the door.

Who can it be? Don’t open the door, Phoebe!

“Phoebe, it’s me, the wolf. Open up it’s terribly cold out here.”

Mr Cricket takes his head out of the sugar bowl and gestures to Phoebe to open the door, but Phoebe refuses.

“I won’t open the door. You’re the Big, Bad Wolf.”

Mr Cricket is angry. “Phoebe, you told everyone that you’re a witch. Witches are brave, they are not afraid of anything. Open the damn door and let him in. Let’s hear what he has to say.”

The Wolf rushes in and sits in front of the fire place. He decides to talk after a few minutes.

“Phoebe, I have to ask you a favour. Hunting season has started and wolves are in danger.”

Phoebe shrugs. “What can I do? You were stealing and eating chicken all summer.”

The Wolf shakes his head and slams his tail.

“Stop calling me the Big, Bad Wolf. It’s the fox who eats the chicken. Do I look like a small time thief? Let’s cut to the chase. If I do not freeze from the cold, the hunters will kill me. You have to turn me into something less dangerous, like a St. Bernard. Those dogs are great in the snow, and the ladies go crazy for them. Make me a goddamn St. Bernard, otherwise I’ll stay here all winter.”

Phoebe glares at Mr Cricket:

“Fine mess you made with your ‘open- the- damn- door’. Now we have to keep the wolf at home.”

Mr Cricket is a worldly cricket. “Quiet, wolf. Phoebe, take the magic wand and transform him.”

Phoebe finally understands:

“Eazy, peazy. lemon squeezy.”

“Oh, what a beautiful St. Bernard!” Mr Cricket enthusiastically exclaims.

The wolf tests his new personality. “Are you serious? I seem to howl like before.”

“You just need to get used to it. For now you just keep quiet and go.”

The Wolf leaves the door half open and steps out, uncertain.

Gunshots in the distance are heard. Phoebe is moved.

“I think it’s better if you stay with us. Would you like that, Wolf? After all, a wolf on my side adds a touch of class, an air of a feared and respected witch.

Mr Cricket waves his arms in protest.

“There is room for two only, where we will accommodate him?”

Phoebe shows him a hammer:

“Quiet you, Mr Cricket, what are you trying to do? Do you want me to smash you? You selfish cricket!”

Mr Cricket shuts the lid and grumbles as he sits in the jar.

“You can keep the Wolf until the snow stops.”

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