Grimm and Grimmer: Volume One

by William Meikle

  'Are you insane?' Charmaine exclaimed, suitably unimpressed, 'it's made of - wood!'

  Charmaine looked at the wooden cabin in dismay, with its ricketty window frames, grimy glass and off-yellow lace curtains that would have once been pure white.

  'Well, we're here now,' Chantelle advised, 'we have Pina Coladas and music, let's make the most of it.'

  The lure of Pina Coladas was enough to get the other two girls hiking towards the old cabin in their heels, dragging behind them their blamange pink Paul's Boutique trolley cases.

  Not before long the trio were ensconced in the cabin, the log fire having been lit, each holding a Pina Colada in a perfectly manicured hand. Jessie J was playing on the ipod and each girl had unpacked her myriad of make-up and scattered the kit all over their respective dressing tables. Though heaven knows why they needed make-up in the middle of the woods.

  ***

  After a lie-in next day the girls decided to go for a walk to explore the wooded area, after all, the idea for their trip had been girly bonding, strictly no men allowed!

  As they set off on their walk, a small shadow barely four feet high, lurked behind the cabin. There, hiding from the strangely dressed humans, was a small bear that had become separated from his mother somewhere in the woods.

  When he was sure the coast was clear, Baby Bear, tired, lost and most definitely hungry, emerged into the clearing. He raised his nose high to sniff something in the air.

  What was that? Something sweet and delicious, perfect for a hungry bear.

  Determined to satisfy his curiosity, Baby Bear used his strength to push open the decrepit wooden door and entered the three-bedroom cabin. There was no scary fire, so still lost and hungry, Baby Bear (let's call him B for short) padded into the first bedroom, nose still twitching as a tantalising scent wafted into his nostrils.

  Ummm, what was that? Strawberry? B thought as he wondered in.

  It was then that he spotted the wooden table littered with all manner of yummy goodies. Momma Bear would have a fit if he didn't eat all of his dinner (especially the peas) but B knew that if he only had just a little bit, he would be fine.

  He reached his paw out to the top of the table and scooped down the thing that had enticed him; a pink strawberry-flavoured Chanel lipstick clattered to the floor.

  With one big lick, he lapped up the entire stick, including the metal part, into his mouth and started to chew vigorously. At first he could taste strawberry, just like the smell, then he grimaced, as the waxy concoction of glycerine and other lipstick ingredients stuck to his tongue and tang of metal took over.

  'Ugh,' he growled, spitting the out the metal cap before swallowing down the rest, 'that was not nice. Too icky.'

  With this in mind he followed his nose to the next bedroom and rummaged through Chantelle's knicker draw, before clawing open her make up kit. He pawed aside the lipsticks in favour of something else. Something... chocolatey. It was in a round container, but the lid was flimsy and soon gave in to his determined teeth. Breaking through the foil top he was soon nose-deep inside a pot of chocolate-scented body butter. B didn't know, but it was worth at least thirty quid and Chantelle would not be happy when she got back.

  Nevertheless, tummy rumbling, B dipped his paw into the pot of body butter and started shovelling copious amounts of cream into his mouth, revelling in its chocolatey goodness, at least until the aftertaste hit him.

  'Ugh,' he growled again, 'don't like that, too . . . creamy'.

  With this in mind again, B followed his nose to the third and final bedroom.

  Stepping cautiously inside, he ignored the strange rumblings that his tummy was making. B stopped at Champagne's dressing table where at last, he could smell bear's gold . . . honey.

  'Yummy yummy, honey for my tummy,' he growled, impaling his claws into the bottle of royal jelly shower gel that rested on the table and ripping away the cap with his teeth. He was so overcome by the smell that he gulped all the shower gel down in one go.

  'That was - just right!' he proclaimed, with a satisfied burp.

  There was nothing B liked more after a good scavenge, than to have a little nap. After all, eating was hard work; and then there was that queasy feeling. He rubbed his belly. And you know what, he thought with a yawn, as the comforting aroma of cannabis incense tickled his nostrils, I'm really, really tired.

  With another wide yawn, B climbed up onto Champagne's bed and settled himself down for a quick nap.

  Ooh, he thought to himself, as he started to snooze, this bed is really comfy. In fact, it's just right.

  ***

  Ow! But my ankle really hurts' Champagne moaned, as she was carried into the cabin supported by the other two girls.

  'Get her on her bed,' Charmaine advised.

  Carefully, and somehow quietly, Charmaine and Chantelle manoeuvred Champagne into her bedroom, then dropped her as one when they saw what was lying on her bed.

  'O.M.G!' Charmaine exclaimed as Champagne whined, rubbing her sore ankle, 'how cute is that?'

  And indeed, snuggled up in Champagne's quilt, fast asleep, B did look adorable.

  'Oh look,' squealed Chantelle, 'it's a little teddy bear, and he's fast asleep. I have like, the most Super idea!'

  Which is when the three girls started to giggle, Champagne forgetting the pain in her ankle, and Charmaine grabbing her make-up kit.

  ***

  With a big yawn, B started to wake up and the three girls let out a soft cooing 'aah' in unison as his big brown eyes fluttered open.

  Hovering above the bed where he lay stood three human females, all of them similar looking, with mops of golden blonde hair and gaudily painted faces.

  B sat up immediately, his eyes opening even wider.

  'Don't be afraid, Baby bear,' Chantelle said in a whisper, 'we won't hurt you.

  But B was very afraid, especially when the one called Chantelle moved a piece of glass towards his furry little face so that he could see what they had done.

  'Grrrrr,' B growled, baring his teeth as hew caught a glimpse of the image in the mirror.

  He had a bright pink bow in his hair, bright pink lipstick on his mouth, some of it on his dripping teeth, and his fur was mottled with pale blue powder around his eyes.

  Knowing Momma would kill him, he let out a final roar before springing up from the bed and running from the cabin on all fours, heading screaming out for Momma Bear to come and rescue him. He swore he would never wander into a human domain on his own ever again.

  ***

  It was a few hours before Momma Bear found him, and good half hour more before they had both calmed down enough to come to terms with what had happened. She was very, very angry. Taking Baby Bear by the paw, she decided she would be having words with these women, and asked him to lead her to their cabin. Leaving Baby Bear's make-up on so those wicked girls would see the error of their ways, they soon arrived at the cabin in the woods.

  Momma Bear knocked on the door politely.

  Chantelle opened the wooden door and jumped back in surprise when she saw B's paw clutched tightly in Momma's giant paw.

  'Who's been messing with my boy?' Momma Bear roared, letting go of B and striding into the cabin.

  'Er -,' Chantelle was at a loss for words, which was probably a good job, considering Momma Bear wasn't in the frame of mind for listening.

  She stretched out her claws, ripping savagely into the soft flesh of Chantelle's face, sending her sprawling to the cold floor.

  It was always the bloody goldilocks' who caused her boy trouble. He was a sucker for blondes.

  Well, this will be the last time they fuck with momma bear, she thought, digging her claws into the soft meat of Chantelle's belly and pulling out her intestines, make no mistake. With that final thought, she proceeded to rip apart the other two annoying blondes that had dared to mess with her baby.

  The End

  William Meikle

  William Meikle is a Scottish writer, now living in Canada, with f
ifteen novels published in the genre press and over 250 short story credits in thirteen countries. His work has appeared in a number of professional anthologies and magazines. He lives in Newfoundland with whales, bald eagles and icebergs for company. For details of his work, see his website at www.williammeikle.com

  I asked William, 'Which fairy tale inspired your story and how?'

  'The Three Little pigs was always a favourite of mine as a kid, from both the picture book which was among the first things I ever read, to the cartoons that kept me enthralled, even in black and white as they were in our house in those days. I always pulled for the wolf though, always wondering why the poor thing had to be left out in the cold. Then I wondered ... maybe it's because he's a zombie? After that, the story told itself.'

  Pork, Hammy and Chop

  by William Meikle

  Long ago and far away, in a land where animals talked and men were few, there lived three little pigs, Porky, Hammy and Chop. Life was good in those distant days; food was plentiful, piglets thrived and the mud was thick and cooling under sun-drenched skies.

  The only blight in the lives of the young pigs was the tale of the big bad wolf that lived in the forest. But since no one had ever seen the wolf, and the forest was far away over the mountains, the pigs paid the story no heed and went about their business being as jolly as can be.

  And so things went, until the time came that the sun went dim. At first it was thought to be merely a patch of bad weather, but when spring changed to summer, and the sun stayed dimmed, it became obvious that matters were more serious. The three pigs, being smarter than your average hogs, decided to build shelters, as insurance against the fact that the weather might not improve for some time to come.

  Chop, being of a lazy disposition, decided to build his new house from straw, which was abundant in the area, and could be easily thatched into a rudimentary house with little effort. The little pig finished his house in less than a day and stood in the doorway laughing at the efforts of his two friends.

  'Should have used straw,' he said to Hammy who was putting up a structure of lathe and wood that involved much sawing and hammering of nails. Porky was the focus of even more taunting. He had chosen to build in brick, which involved a lot of back breaking work in the mixing of mud and straw and the use of a kiln to make the bricks which had then to be cooled before they could be used. Hammy had finished his own wooden house before Porky had even built one wall of brick.

  'Should have used wood,' Hammy said smugly from the doorway of his new home. Porky said nothing, merely put his head down and kept working, even while the sky darkened further and a black shape moved over the sun.

  'Star wormwood,' the elders muttered. 'We must hide. The big bad wolf will return.' The other hogs in the area followed the elders into hiding, but Hammy, Porky and Chop were loath to leave, having put so much effort into their new homes. They stayed behind, even as dark threads fell from the sky and the land began to shrivel and die.

  Porky finished his house the day the first snows fell, and that night they stayed in their shelters. The wind whistled around their new homes, and they all felt snug, and ever so slightly smug, at the fruits of their efforts. And if any of them heard another sound in the wind; a howling as of an animal in pain in the far distance, none of them mentioned it to the others come daybreak.

  ***

  In the morning the snow lay thick on the ground. The three piglets decided to forage for food together, calculating that there was more safety in a group than alone. They had to venture far from home to find anything worth eating, the ground being frozen solid and the fruit having rotten on the trees and bushes. In the end they had to make do with some mushy turnips and potatoes that had been too long in the ground. It was as they were deciding whether to forage even further afield that they heard the sound that chilled them to the bone; a blood-curling howl of anger and pain that shook the leaves on the bushes and sent the little piglets scurrying for safety.

  Something followed them. To begin with they only knew it was there by the continual howling that carried even above the wind. Hammy was first to look back, and what he saw caused him to yelp in surprise. Indeed, the surprise was so great, he plumb forgot how to run and fell on his face in the snow. The other two stopped to help in him up, and so it was that all three saw their pursuer at the same time.

  The big bad wolf was some hundred yards behind them, and closing, but none too quickly, for it moved in a stumbling, awkward gait, as if something inside it was broken. A hoarse voice carried to them on the wind.

  Little pigs, little pigs.

  They got Hammy to his feet and ran. Chop’s straw house was the closest and all three threw themselves inside, closing the flimsy door behind them.

  'We’re safe. He’ll never get us now,' Chop said.

  A voice called from outside.

  Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in.

  Something heavy threw itself at the door. The panel shook, almost collapsed under the strain. Chop, outraged at this assault on his property, called out defiantly.

  'Never. Not on the hair on my chinny, chin, chin.'

  The wolf roared.

  Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll knock your house in.

  The beast outside started a full-scale assault on the house. Straw flew and scattered.

  'I think we should leave,' Hammy said, backing away from the door as a gap appeared in the thatch. The wolf’s huge head forced its way through the hole, and all three piglets squealed in fright. The big bad wolf was actually a dead big bad wolf. A milky eyeball hung loose in its socket over the left cheek. Patches of fur slid over decaying flesh revealing grey bone beneath it, and the fearsome teeth were cracked and broken, as if it had been gnawing on stone. The stench of foul breath filled the straw house as it spoke, a dead intonation that seemed to come up from the ground underfoot.

  Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in.

  The decaying head pushed further into the room. Behind it the piglets saw a ravaged torso, fur hanging from skeletal ribs, grey-green flesh sloughing off as it scraped against rough thatch.

  Chop rushed forward before the others could stop him.

  'Never. Not on the hair on my chinny, chin, chin,' he shouted. He aimed a punch for the wolf’s snout. But even in death the predator was too fast. With a backhand swipe of an arm that was little more than exposed sinew and bone it hit Chop squarely in the chest, send him slamming against the wall of the house, bring the whole of that side of the structure down in a flurry of straw and twine.

  'Run,' Hammy shouted. The two survivors fled as the big bad wolf rampaged amid the scattered ruin of the straw house.

  ***

  They got inside Hammy’s wooden house just before the wolf spotted them and headed in their direction. Hammy slammed the door shut with a reassuring thud.

  'He won’t get in here so easily,' Hammy said. 'I made this house to last, from the finest oak. We’re safe now.'

  The hoarse voice of the wolf called out, clearly audible even through the thick door.

  Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in.

  Hammy laughed.

  'Never. Not on the hair on my chinny, chin, chin,' he shouted, and laughed again, thinking himself witty.

  The wolf roared in reply.

  Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll knock your house in.

  The heavy wooden door rattled in its hinges and creaked as the wolf put its weight against it. A thud rang through the whole house, then another. The wolf hurled itself against the door, again, and again. The door creaked. But the wood held.

  'I told you,' Hammy said to Porky. 'We’re safe now.'

  At that same instant the wolf renewed its attack, not with its weight, but with its claws and with its teeth. The piglets heard wood splinter and split. The wolf roared and once again the structure shook. Fine sawdust fell on their heads.

  'I think we should leave,' Porky said.

  'Nonsense,' Hammy replied. 'He�
�ll never get through there. Did you see him? He’s more than half rotted away. All we have to do is wait him out.'

  As if in answer, the wolf roared.

  Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in.

  Hammy shouted back.

  'Not on the hair on my chinny, chin, chin.'

  The wolf attacked the door in renewed frenzy. A crack appeared, thin at first, but getting larger fast as teeth and claws tore at the weak spot. Soon there was a gap big enough that the wolf could get his snout through.

  I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll knock your house in.

  'Not if I can help it,' Hammy said, and jumped forward. At the same instant the wolf threw its full weight against the weakened door. The door fell in with a crash, pinning Hammy to the ground beneath it. The wolf growled deep in its throat, bent over, and tore poor Hammy’s face off with one bite.

  Porky tried to make himself invisible and sidled around the edge of the room as the wolf started to feed, trying to ignore the moist tearing noises that came as the beast chewed at Hammy’s flesh.

  He almost made it. He got as far as the doorway before his foot went down on a piece of wood that broke with a loud crack. The wolf looked up; its one good eye fixed on Porky, gore dripping in heavy drools from its snout. It growled, just once, and turned towards him.

  Once again, Porky fled.

  ***

  He chanced one look back as he reached the door of the brick house. The wolf staggered towards him, dragging grey entrails behind it that cascaded from a fresh tear in its belly. It howled.

  Little pig, little pig, let me come in.

  'Not on the hair on my chinny, chin, chin,' Porky whispered, and closed the door firmly in the wolf’s face. The wolf threw its weight against the wood, but the beast seemed weaker now than it had been only minutes earlier, and the door showed no sign of buckling under the pressure. The wolf howled again, but this time it sounded less of a threat, coming from a throat so ravaged that it had lost much of its power.