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Little MAGA-Cap Riding Hood and the Big Beautiful Wolf: An American Fable

Long ago, when the little stars above all twinkled with the power of The Secret, a patriotic little girl lived with her grandmother in a trailer deep in the dark woods. One day they ran out of meth, so the grandmother, who needed it get rid of her remaining teeth, gave the girl a basket and a couple of twenties to go buy some in town. “Buy some chocolate-chip cookies to scatter on top, too, in case the cops stop you. And don’t talk to any strangers,” were her exact instructions.

“OK, Mamaw,” said the little girl, who was known as Little MAGA-Cap Riding Hood because she was never seen without the iconic hat, and she skipped away on her errand. The adorable forest creatures all saw her coming and ran every which way to escape, because the girl was actually thirty-two years old and was skinny only thanks to her drug abuse. Plus, she packed a Glock that she had swiped from her last boyfriend, because the deep dark forest was an open-carry state.

On the way back home she encountered a Big Beautiful Wolf. “Little Girl, why are you out in the deep, dark woods all alone?” asked the wolf, with what he thought was a friendly chuckle but which actually sounded more like Vladimir Putin’s guffaw when he was asked whether he has ordered dissidents rubbed out.

“I am a good little girl and it’s none of your business that I’m bringing my poor old Mamaw her daily fix,” said Little MAGA-Cap Riding Hood, who like most worshippers of the Very Stable Genius was a little bit of a “genius” herself.

“That is right and proper. Little girls and boys should obey their elders and follow family values,” the wolf said approvingly.

“Oh, are you a MAGA too?” exclaimed Little MAGA-Cap Riding Hood.

“Sure I am! Uh, eat the libs, bite Biden, Hillary for prison!” said the wolf. “Well, I won’t detain you any longer…”

“What does ‘detain’ mean?” the little girl called after the wolf, who had darted away between the trees. Then she shrugged and continued on her way back home. When she got there, she found her Mamaw in bed, which did not raise any alarms with her, as the old woman often took to her bed when suffering withdrawal symptoms. But she couldn’t help noticing there was something different about her as she drew near.

“Mamaw, your face is even hairier than it was when I left!”

“The better to give you whisker-burn, my dear!”

“Mamaw, what a big nose you have!”

“The better to snort my ‘medicine’ with, my dear!” This response reassured Little MAGA-Cap Riding Hood, and she drew near, only to recoil in horror.

“Mamaw, your breath is even worse than usual!”

“I wouldn’t be casting aspersions in that department if I were you, my dear!” said the Big Beautiful Wolf, and losing patience, leapt upon the little girl and ate her all up, just as he had already done with Mamaw. The little girl never had time to draw her gun, and the wolf added it to his own collection, which is kind of how it goes, folks. The hunter who lived down the road might have saved them, but he was being interrogated by the cops after shooting a woman dead in her own backyard, which is still illegal even in open-carry jurisdictions like the deep dark woods, although penalties are light to nonexistent.

Moral: Just say no to MAGA. Also meth.

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