At approximately 10.00hrs on a Saturday morning, Little Vermillion-Red Riding Hoodie (known as Little Red for short) was helping her mother unpack the Waitrose shopping delivery, in exchange for cold hard cash.
Her mother asked Little Red to pop over to Granny’s house with some raw milk, free-range eggs and organic grass-fed butter.
She reminded Little Red not to stray from the path to Granny’s house and not to forget her iPhone as the Sat Nav would help her if she became unsure of which map route to follow.
Little Red set off, tucking the produce her mother had given her into her hand-spun hemp bag. She skipped happily along, doing her mindfulness practice as she went, and forgot instantly, her mother’s sage advice to remain on the path all the way to Granny’s house.
Little Red suddenly found herself on a not-very-nice estate, amongst discarded burnt-out vehicles and teenage boys trading little clear bags of white powder for large sums of money. Now, Little Red was quite street-wise and knew all about the wheelings and dealings on the streets. She patted her pocket to check if her glittery pink Glock 30S pistol was still there. You know, just for safety’s sake. It was, so she carried on, undeterred.
Reaching the Sheltered Accommodation where Granny lived, Little Red pressed the buzzer to gain access. An unusual deep voice boomed back through the intercom, “Come in my dear!”
Little Red walked into Granny’s flat and smelled a funny smell. It was like a mix of damp tobacco and Pot Noodle. Sitting in Granny’s recliner seat, was a shifty-looking man in a cheap polyester suit, not at all tailored well. Little Red eyed him suspiciously. Where on earth was Granny?
The man jumped up instantly and shoved Little Red onto a chair. He had a murderous look in his eyes and didn’t appear very mentally balanced at all. A small yelp came from the bathroom.
“You’d best tell me the code for your grandmother’s safe or you won’t be seeing her again!” shouted the demonic man. Little Red edged to get up to check the bathroom but the shifty man roughly grabbed her arm and yelled again: “What’s the safe code, child? Tell me now!”
Little Red edged to get up to check the bathroom but the shifty man roughly grabbed her arm. Little Red looked down and saw that the stupid man had in fact, ripped her vintage Guns and Roses t-shirt that belonged to her mother.
He yelled again, “What’s the safe code, child? Tell me now!”
Now, Little Red was not at all stupid. She’d gained a good level six at the end of her primary school SATs, and was rather gifted in many academic areas, including achieving Grade 7 on the tuba. She quickly reeled off a random code (it was actually her library card number combined with the date of her last period) and watched as the shifty man bent down to the safe in an attempt to unlock it.
As quick as a flash, Little Red whipped out the emergency pistol from her pocket. A double tap-tap in the killing zone meant that the shifty man was floored in seconds and Little Red was able to run to the bathroom to assess Granny’s fate.
Poor Granny had been bound with the IKEA shower curtain and the shifty man had cruelly wedged a bottle of Timotei into her mouth to prevent her from shouting for help.
“Oh, Granny! Are you ok?” cried Little Red as she untied her and gave her a hug. Luckily, through all the commotion, the Sheltered Accommodation Warden had been alerted and was helpfully disposing of the deceased shifty man before the laminate floor was ruined. Cilit Bang does not get every stain out, despite what it says on the bottle.
Little Red ordered an Uber from her phone and told Granny that she’d best stay at Little Red’s house for a while, until she felt much better. She bent down to the safe and emptied out Granny’s pension fund of diamonds, pearls and a few blocks of gold bullion that a nice man in Nigeria had sent to her for safekeeping, to take with them.
She also quickly took a selfie with her and the deceased shifty man on her iPhone for her Instagram and Facebook profiles, and also as proof of shot grouping for her next target practice class at Guides. She might even get a new badge for it.
Little Vermillion-Red Riding Hoodie was glad things all turned out so jolly well and she praised herself quietly for remembering her mother’s wise advice:
“If you can’t resolve situations through peaceful discussion, always remember your handgun.” Bless her mother’s wise soul.