by BKWillis


The Supervisor remained hidden behind his copy of the 'Daily
Mirror', giving no sign of acknowledgement.

"I repeat, ahem."

"I heard you the first time, young Doctor Six," the voice behind
the newspaper replied easily.

The chubby toddler in the patchwork nappy frowned and crossed
his little arms. "You could _look_ at me when I'm talking to you,
you know," he snapped.

"I could, I suppose." The paper rustled as the Supervisor shrug-
ged. "Or, conversely, you could just not talk to me when I'm not
looking at you. That accomplishes much the same thing."

The Baby Sixth Doctor pondered the sense of that for a moment,
then resumed glaring at the Supervisor's newsprint-shrouded form.
After a moment more of being stolidly ignored, he composed him-
self and in a reasonable tone said, "Anyhow, I just wanted to
remind you that it's almost six-thirty."

The Supervisor turned the page and said nothing.

"I _said_--" the Time Toddler began again.

"I heard what you said. I assume that six-thirty in the evening is
of some particular horological significance to you. What I fail to
see is why you should think it important to inform me of this fact."

"Izzy always tells us a story at six-thirty!" the little Doctorling
chirped eagerly.

"Again, why tell _me_? That's between you lot and Izzy."

The Baby Sixth Doc pouted glumly. "Izzy's not here," he sulked.
"She's gone off on a holiday."

The paper rustled a little. "Well, then, a bit of deductive reason-
ing would indicate that, since Izzy tells you stories and Izzy is not
here, you aren't going to get a story. You have my heartfelt con-
dolences." Another page turned.

"Gee, thanks," Baby Sixth replied with extra sarcasm. "Fine, then.
We'll just get back to that bean-burrito-eating contest we were
going to have."

A tiny "gulp" sounded from the depths of the 'Daily Mirror'.

"I sure hope we have enough nappies this time," Baby Sixth went
on. "This carpet _is_ stain-resistant, isn't it?"

The Time Tot found himself abruptly hauled off his feet as the
Supervisor scooped him up and strode into the middle of the room,
shouting, "Gather 'round, children! You don't want to miss out on
story time, do you?"


"All right, settle down, you rug monkeys." The Supervisor glared
at the semicircle of infants like a drillmaster reviewing his troops.
"Mr. Kreiner, will you please stop pinching Miss Kapoor? Thank
you. Miss Jovanka and Miss Nyssa, the two of you can come sit
over here and stop trying to put Mr. Adric's head into his own
nappy. Very good. Now, is everyone quite ready?" A sea of tiny
little eyes stared silently back at him. "Right, then."

"Once upon a time..."


[ a cottage near the edge of the Enchanted Wood, there lived a
woman and her beautiful young daughter.]

Roz looked down at the peasant dress she was wearing and sighed.
"The things I do for these authors," she muttered. With a disgusted
roll of her eyes, she halfheartedly began to work the handle of the
butter churn next to her. "Hey, 'daughter'," she yelled. "How
about giving your poor mother a hand, already?" Under her breath,
she added, "Can't wait to see who gets _that_ role."

There was the sound of a muted argument from outside, followed
by a splash and a stream of indignant profanity. A few moments
later, a female and dripping-wet Number One entered, looking
ready to commit murder. "Hiya, 'Mom'," she snarled as she began
wringing water out of her trousers and shirt.

Roz blinked at the redhead for a moment. "Ooookay," she said at
last, "how do we explain _this_?"

"Lack of sufficient minority representation in the cast would be
my guess, 'Mom'," Number One replied airily. "Or, maybe you're
gonna be the evil stepmother."

"Heh. Now _that_ I could get into." The Xhosa woman chuckled
meanly to herself. "That means that _you_ can churn this damn
butter, mop the floor, and all that other domestic crap while I go
take a hot bath!"

[The woman, who _was_ the girl's biological mother, loved her
daughter very much, in spite of a mysterious difference in their
skins' melanin content.]

Roz and Number One looked at each other and shrugged.

"So, I wonder who Dad is, then?"

"Probably Chang Lee, at this rate."

[The woman's husband, who was not Chinese at all, had passed
away some years earlier in a tragic Pixie Dust explosion. One of
the hazards of living near an Enchanted Wood.]

The two women looked over at the mantel, which now bore a
small portrait of the Fourth Doctor.

"I married _him_?!" Roz exploded. "This isn't making any sense
at _all_!"

Number One looked thoughtful. "Except for the Pixie Dust part.
That fits him _perfectly_."

"You have a point."

[The daughter was known as Little Red Walking Hood.]

The black woman snorted back laughter as her 'daughter' rolled
her eyes toward the ceiling.

"Ain't that supposed to be 'Little Red _Riding_ Hood'? Not that
there's any way I'm wearing that stupid thing."

[She was called 'Little' because she was too short to ride the rides
at the yearly Fair, 'Red' because of her hair, 'Walking' because she
didn't have a horse, and 'Hood' because she would occasionally
extort money from local merchants as part of a protection racket.]

Roz fell back into her chair, shaking with laughter. "Well, what
do you know? It _is_ starting to make some sense."

"Shut up, 'Mom', or this may just turn into 'The Old Woman Who
Lived with a Shoe Up Her Ass'."

[One day, her mother asked her to run a very special errand.]

"Hey, Snow White," Roz barked. "Go down to Mr. Cwej's farm
and ask him to come by and, ah, pick up the cookies I baked for

"Is that what they call it, now? 'Baking cookies'?"

"That's what _I'm_ calling it. You just go tell him, then make
yourself scarce for a couple of hours, like a good little girl."

[Actually, she wanted her to deliver a basket of goodies to her
beloved Aunt Benny, who lived on the other side of the Enchanted

Roz shrugged nonchalantly and held out a large, covered basket.
"Here, kid. This is for your beloved Aunt Benny, who lives on the
other side of the Enchanted Wood."

"I know, 'Mom'," the redhead groused as she took the basket, "I
heard the narration, too." Her arm was abruptly yanked down by
the weight of the loaded basket as something clinked and clattered
under the cloth. "Jeez, 'Mom'! What the Hell's in here, anyway?
This thing weighs a ton!" She peeled back the cover for a peek.
"Ah. Three bottles of whiskey, two bottles of brandy, a six-pack
of Kiwi Choker Beer, a gallon of apricot Schnapps, a pack of trail
mix, and a box of pads. Must be a slow weekend at the Summer-
field house."

"Yeah, whatever." Roz drummed her fingers on the arm of her
chair. "You just make sure you stop at Cwej's, or I'll send you to
bed with supper."

"You mean _without_ supper, don't you?"

"No, I mean _with_ supper. Your cousin Mel is cooking tonight."

"Bleah. I'd rather get an apple from the Wicked Witch."

[As Little Red Walking Hood set off to her Aunt Benny's, her
mother warned her to be careful in the Enchanted Wood, and to
watch out for the Big Bad--]



"Excuse me?" the Supervisor asked archly. "Who's telling this

"What's wwong with coyotes?" the ponytailed toddler demanded,
the coyote's tail on the back of his diaper swishing indignantly. "I
happen to wike them."

"Well, then, when you grow up, you can tell this story with a Big
Bad Coyote, or Goldilocks and the Three Coyotes, or Snow White
and the Seven Coyotes, or whatever you please," the Supervisor
explained. "For now, I find coyotes to be insufficiently intimidat-
ing and far too annoying to feature in this story."

"Oh," said the toddler, then, "Hey! Was that a thinwy-disguised
put-down aimed at me?"




[ Little Red Walking Hood set off to her Aunt Benny's, her
mother warned her to be careful in the Enchanted Wood, and to
watch out for the Big Bad--]



"Young Mr. Davros..." began the Supervisor.

"What?" the exceedingly ugly Kaled baby in the roller-chair inter-
rupted. "Daleks are intimidating! More than any sucky old wolf
ever was!"

"Perhaps," the Supervisor agreed with admirable patience, "but
they aren't especially versatile, are they?"

"Of course they are!" Baby Davros screeched. "My Daleks can
adapt to any environment, can handle gazillions of new situations!
They're the bestestest--"

"Aunt Benny's house has stairs," the Supervisor inserted.


"Right, then. As I was saying..."


"I'll see your five, and raise you two," Roz was saying as she
tossed a couple of chips onto the table.

Number One added two of her own. "I call. What you got?"

"Two pair. Sevens and fours."

"Ah, snot. I just had a pair of nines."

As Roz raked in the pile of chips, she happened to glance up from
the card table. "Oops! We're back on!"

[ Little Red Walking Hood set off to her Aunt Benny's, her
mother warned her to be careful in the Enchanted Wood, and to
watch out for the Big Bad Ogron.]

"Ogron, huh? That's rather non-traditional."

"Intimidating, though," Roz pointed out. "They can usually figure
their way around a set of stairs, too. Anyway, get on to your
beloved Aunt Benny's. Be careful in the Enchanted Wood, watch
out for the Big Bad Ogron, and don't forget to give that message
to Mr. Cwej!"

Number One huffily snatched up the basket and stomped out the
door. "Oh, screw Mr. Cwej!" she sneered over her shoulder.

"That's the idea, 'daughter'," came the reply from inside the

[And so, Little Red Walking Hood went skipping merrily down
the path through the Enchanted Wood.]

"Yeah, right," the redhead spat. "I don't _do_ skipping." She
made a point of trudging heavily along, kicking up little clouds
of dust and snarling profanity at the happy little butterflies that
swarmed in around her in their annoyingly random and cheery

[Before long, she came upon some fairies frolicking in the

"Hey, you two! Get a room, why don't you?!" Number One rolled
her eyes as Nyssaias and Embericles untangled themselves from
each other.

"We're just frolicking innocently in the flowers," stated the Light
Muse with a look of 100% wholesome pasteurized innocence.
Unfortunately, since she still had Embericles's panties around her
neck, the effect was somewhat less than it might have been.

"Yeah!" agreed Embericles as she slipped her halter-top back into
place, neatly covering all the hickeys except nine. "We were just
licking in the flowers, like the narrator said!"

"More than I really needed to know," Number One said in a sour

"Suuuuure," the Muses said in sarcastic chorus. "Act like it
doesn't turn you on."

[The fairies asked Little Red Walking Hood what she was carrying
and where she was going.]

"So, what kind of goodies have you got there, tall, red, and top-
heavy?" Embericles asked with a smirk.

"A bunch of hooch and a box of Ultra-Maxi-Double-Layer-Mega-

Nyssaias nodded sagely. "You must be going to Aunt Benny's,

"How'd you guess?"

Nyssaias began ticking off points on her fingers. "Because the
Wicked Witch hit menopause a couple of centuries ago, so you
aren't taking that stuff to her. The Three Bears are all vegan tee-

"Smug porridge-sucking bastards," Embericles muttered with a
dark scowl.

" you aren't going to their cottage. And Hansel and Gretel's
parents got busted by Child Welfare last month. They're doing
two-to-five with no parole and the kids are in foster homes, so you
aren't going there. That just leaves Aunt Benny."

Embericles stared at her cohort with a look of shimmery-eyed
admiration. "Ooh! You're just soooo smart! I love a woman with
intellect!" With that, she pounced on Nyssaias like a starving
cheetah on a bowl of Little Friskies.

As the two proceeded with their -- ahem -- 'frolicking', Number
One just sighed and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "I really
could've done without this," she grumbled.

[When the fairies found out she was going to Aunt Benny's
house, they warned her to be careful and to watch out for the
Big Bad Ogron.]

"Oh, yeah," said Nyssaias as the redhead began stomping away.
"Do be -- aah! -- careful in the Enchanted -- ooh, yes! there! --
Wood and watch out for -- mmmm! ah ah aaah! -- the Big Bad
Ogroooooon! Ooh, lower! Lower! Ahh!"

[As Little Red Walking Hood skipped merrily away, singing a
happy song...]

Number One plodded down the path, taking a moment to fling a
rock at some bluebirds that were twittering away on a branch.
She began snarling to herself in a semi-musical fashion:

"My sister sells rubbers to sailors
My Dad pokes the heads with a pin
My Momma performs the abortions
My God! How the money rolls in!"

[...she was unaware that, hiding behind a nearby tree was none
other than the Big Bad Ogron!]

Francois looked up from his hiding place, an annoyed expression
on his face.

"Francois not bad," he insisted. "Just drawn that way."

[The Ogron had heard all of Little Red Walking Hood's conversa-
tion with the fairies, and quickly came up with a plan.]

"Is so," said Francois with a firm nod. "Have only to get video
camera and record little flying nympho girls. Sell tape to perverts
for _much_ money."

[Specifically, he came up with a plan about Little Red Walking

The Ogron scratched his massive head, puzzled. "Why tape little
mirror-eyes half-girl? Still have clothes on, yes? No people buying
video of girl who look like thug going for walk."

[More specifically, he came up with a plan to catch and eat the
young girl.]

A dangerous light gleamed in Francois's eyes. "Just because
Francois sell tape to perverts, no mean Francois _is_ pervert!" He
shook his fist at nothing in particular.

[Sigh. He came up with a plan to capture, kill, and _devour_
Little Red Walking Hood.]

"Is better," the Ogron grunted. "Francois know just what to do.
Run up behind little mirror-eyes half-girl right now and hit on
head with stick until very dead. Is simple, and no witnesses, yes?"

[He would take a shortcut through the Enchanted Wood to Aunt
Benny's house, where he would then disguise himself as Aunt
Benny in order to lure Little Red Walking Hood in close, where
he could pounce on her.]

"Why do such?" demanded Francois with a look of disbelief. "Is
stupidest plan Francois ever hear of, and Francois been in enough
of stupid hillbilly author's stories to hear plenty. Look. Little
mirror-eyes half-girl is right there, too busy singing and being in
bad mood to pay attention. Is much easier kill half-girl now than
go running all over stupid Enchanted Wood."

[Yes, that was exactly what he would do. Determined now, he set
off through the Wood to Aunt Benny's house.]

Francois turned and stomped off, grumbling. "Fine, then.
Francois do this narrator's way, since is only way ever get out of
stupid story!" He paused to throw a rock at the bluebirds, then
disappeared into the forest.

[As it happened, the Big Bad Ogron's shortcut got him to Aunt
Benny's house several minutes ahead of Little Red Walking Hood.]

With a small rustle of underbrush, Francois the Ogron pushed his
way into the little clearing, taking in the scene of pastoral beauty
before him. Aunt Benny's tidy little cottage sat under the shade of
a sturdy elm tree, surrounded by well-tended plots of flowers and
vegetables. Squirrels and rabbits scampered and played along the
front walk, while a cluster of bluebirds sang their greetings to the
mid-morning sun--

"Shut up, you bastards!" Bluebirds scattered everywhere as a
shoe thrown from a front window clipped one of their number off
the branch in mid-chirp. "I have PMS and a hangover, and I am
_not_ in the mood for this!" Bernice Summerfield poked her head
out and fixed the rabbits and squirrels with a furious glare. "And
you lot can stop staring, as well! Now, PISS OFF!" The rodents
fled as she slammed the shutter closed.

"Wow," the Ogron muttered, deeply impressed. "Francois
getting turned-on. Rrrrrrowl!"

[He snuck up to the back door of the cottage and crept inside.]

Francois walked up to the back door and rapped on it lightly with
his knuckles, cracking it in several places.

"Who's there?!" demanded an angry voice from inside. "What do
you want!"

"Am here from First Church of Holy Gospel, ma'am," he said
politely. "Am here to talk about whether you accept personal
savior in life yet. Loud lady having a few dozen hours to spare?"

"AAAAAAaaaaaaaahhh..." screamed Benny as she dashed out
the front door and disappeared into the distance.

"Heh. Work every time." Francois grinned and let himself inside.

[He quickly disposed of Aunt Benny. Then, he dressed himself in
her clothes and slipped into bed.]

"Riiiight," growled Francois. "Try pull other one, has bells on.
First, Francois already say am not pervert. Second thing, clothes
way too small. Third thing, Francois not looking at all like loud
lady. Hair is wrong color, yes?" The bed sagged under his weight
as he lay down and pulled the blankets up around him.

[A few minutes later, Little Red Walking Hood came up and
knocked on the door.]

Knock knock knock. "Hey, Aunt Benny! Are you home, you
drunken old coot?"

[Disguising his voice, the Big Bad Ogron invited her in.]

"Little mirror-eyes half-girl come on in," Francois answered in a
grotesque falsetto that sounded rather like a mountain gorilla with
a mousetrap on its wedding tackle.

[Little Red Walking Hood came in and sat beside the bed, setting
down the basket of goodies and looking curiously at the Big Bad

"PMS is Hell, ain't it?" Number One asked as she plopped down
in the chair next to Francois. "You look bloated as a whale, Aunt
Benny. Need a shave, too."

[She was largely fooled by his disguise, but she began to notice
some odd things about her Aunt's appearance.]

"Fooled, Hell!" Number One spat indignantly. "He's not even
wearing her clothes. He's just got a blanket over him. And, even
if he was disguised, he looks about as much like Benny as that
dead bluebird outside does!"

"Just playing along, yes?" Francois pleaded. "Am not wanting to
stay in story any longer than have to."

[As I said, she was largely fooled, but she noticed that her Auntie's
eyes looked a bit odd.]

The redhead threw up her hands. "Fine, fine. Let's just cut to the
chase, then, okay? Ahem." She began pointing at various parts
of Francois's anatomy. "Gee, Aunt Benny," she said in a disgust-
ingly sweet and girly voice, "what big eyes and ears and nose and
hands and feet and whatnot you do have."

"Is better to, ah, see half-girl and all that other stuff, yes?"

[Erm... Having received satisfactory answers to her questions,
Little Red Walking Hood noticed one last thing about her Aunt's

"Ugh. You need to floss, big time."

[She noticed that Aunt Benny's teeth were unusually _large_, that

"Maybe, but he still needs to floss." With a sigh, Number One put
on her most girly simper. "Golly gee, Aunt Benny, what big (and
nasty) teeth you do have!"

[That was the moment the Big Bad Ogron had been waiting for.
He threw off his disguise and pounced!]

"Is better to eat half-girl with!" With a roar, Francois surged up
out of the bed and--

WHAM! "Pervert! I'm a _guy_!"

--got hit across the face with a chair.

"Ow! What do that for?"

"Just leave me out of your perverted fantasies, Bub!" Number One
brandished the broken chair threateningly.

"Is misunderstanding. Francois mean 'eat' literally. As in, 'with
bearnaise sauce and baked potato'."

"Oh, well, that's different," she replied, tossing her weapon aside.
"I thought--" A sudden look of utter horror crossed her face. "Oh,
NO!" she cried. "Oh crap! This is _awful_!"

Francois tried to smile reassuringly. "Is okay. Is just story. No
need over-act."

"Not that. You just reminded me of something. I forgot to stop
by Mr. Cwej's on my way here. That means 'Mom' is gonna make
me eat cousin Mel's cooking tonight!"

"What having?" Francois asked suspiciously.

"Probably tofu and bean-sprout casserole with wheat germ sauce."

"Bleagh." Francois made a face that was even uglier than his
normal one. "Better off get apple from Wicked Witch."

"I can't go home. Here." Number One squeezed her eyes shut.
"Go ahead and eat me and get it over with. Better a quick death
than the lingering agony of wheat germ."

Francois had a thoughtful look on his face. "Actually, Francois
thinking. How half-girl like barbecue?"

"I don't care how you cook me. Just do it."

"Misunderstand. Francois not finding half-girl all that appetizing,
but know where is three pigs on other side of Enchanted Wood.
Francois almost get two in past, but all now in big brick house.
Now, am thinking get half-girl to help, and have big pork barbecue
cookout." He grinned and rubbed his huge paws together.

Number One salivated a little. "Mmmm, pork. Tell me more!"

"Pigs in house too strong for Francois to knock down. Knock
down straw house and wood house, but pigs get away. Escape to
third pig's house. Francois try, but not knock down. Thinking
now, team up, get half-girl to trick pigs into letting inside, then
unlock door..."

"And then it's porkchop time!" she finished. "You know, I think
this may be the start of a beautiful friendship."

They walked out the door arm-in-arm.


"...and they lived happily ever after, I suppose." The Supervisor
looked around at the intent little faces. "So, what did you think?"

"Trite," said Baby Romana.

"Derivative," said Baby Anji.

"Formulaic," added Baby Sarah Jane.

"Not enough sex," was Baby Fitz's opinion.

"Not enough violence," said Baby Coyote.

"Not enough Daleks," said Baby Davros.

The Supervisor shrugged. "Well, you can't please everybody."

"Yeah," sneered Baby Sixth Doc, "but you didn't please anybody."

"And I suppose you think that you babies could do better?"

In the sudden quiet that followed that question, the Supervisor
noted the looks that passed among the assembled toddlers. He
also noted the slow grins that began to stretch their little mouths.

Somehow, he had the feeling that he might just come to regret
having issued that particular challenge...