Red Riding Hood in the retelling Bashny.Net

Image of Little Red Riding Hood and gray wolf from its inception not leave alone the best minds of humanity. It seems to us that way, "Little Red Riding Hood" would tell a well-known writers on the night of his kiddies.

Richard Bach
- I am a seagull! - I said Wolf.
- It is an illusion - said Little Red Riding Hood.
Under the wing of a big 10, 17 "Cessna-152" with a horizontal four-cylinder Lycoming O-235-L2C volume of 3.8 liters. and a capacity of 1 × 110 hp at 2550 rev / min flashed blue tops of the magic forest. The plane landed at the lodge on the edge of folded white stone.
- Do you see the house? - Little Red Riding Hood said, smiling slyly.
- We do attract into your life cabins and grandmothers - Wolf sighed.

Haruki Murakami
When I woke up, Little Red Riding Hood was still asleep. I smoked seven cigarettes a row and went to the kitchen, where he began to cook the noodles. I cook the noodles are always very carefully, and do not like when I have something to distract from the process. On the radio Pink Floyd. When I ran the sauce noodles, the door bell rang. I went to the door, looking for the way to the room. Little Red Riding Hood was still asleep. I admired her ears, one ear was highlighted by the morning sun. I had never seen such ears ... Opening the door, I saw a wolf. In memory immediately came Sheep ...

Vladimir Mayakovsky
If,
Comrade,
put you
hat,
red
cap
meat
top - boldly go:
you all have
by ***
boldly go,
one
do not be afraid
tight squeeze
pies
for grandma,
gnawing
Wolf
nourishing
life!
Guy de Maupassant
Wolf met her. He looked at it that special look that experienced Parisian libertine throws at provincial coquette, which is still trying to pass himself off as innocent. But he believes in her innocence no more than her and if already sees how she undresses her skirt falling one after another, and it is only in a shirt, under which outlines the sweet shape of her body.

Victor Hugo
Red Riding Hood trembled. She was alone. She was alone, like a needle in the desert, like a grain of sand among the stars, like a gladiator among venomous snakes as somnabula in the oven ...

Jack London
But she was a worthy daughter of her race; in her veins flowed the blood of strong white explorers of the North. Therefore, and without batting an eye, she threw herself into a wolf, he had received a crushing blow and immediately reinforced it one classic uppercut. Wolf ran in fear. She looked after him, smiling his charming female smile.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez
It will take many years, and the Wolf, standing against the wall waiting for the shooting, remember that distant night when the grandmother ate the cake as much arsenic as would be enough to wipe out a lot of rats. But it is as if nothing had happened tormented piano and sang until midnight. Two weeks later, Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood tried to blow up the tent unbearable old woman. They watched with bated breath as to the detonator cord for crawling blue light. They both stopped their ears, but in vain, because there was no screen. When Little Red Riding Hood dared to go inside, hoping to find a dead grandmother, she saw that her life rife old woman in tattered shreds shirt and burned wig worn here and there, scoring the fire blanket.

Poe
At the edge of the old, dark, entwined in a mysterious veil-tight timber, which were worn over the ominous dark clouds of vapor and if the sound could be heard the fatal shackles, in the mystical horror lived Little Red Riding Hood.
William Shakespeare
Eat or not eat, that is the question?

Patrick Süskind
The smell was disgusting Wolf. He smelled the smell tanner cubby in which rotting corpses. From his dirty gray skins came mouthwatering smell of carrion, bittersweet, vyzyvavschey nausea and disgust. Wolf himself felt that he was totally focused, he admired the Little Red Riding Hood. She smelled of violets at dawn, the indescribable odor that the flowers can be just a couple of minutes before sunrise, when the bud is not yet fully revealed.

Rudyard Kipling
- We're the same blood! - Little Red Riding Hood screamed after the wolf. - Good hunting!

Honore de Balzac
Wolf reached grandmother's house and knocked on the door. This door was made in the mid-17th century by an unknown master. He cut her out of fashion at the time, Canadian oak, giving it a classical form and hung it on the iron hinges, which at one time, perhaps, were good, but is now badly rattled. On the door there were no ornaments and patterns, but in the lower right corner one could see the scratch, which said that it has made its own spur Celestin de Shavard - a favorite of Marie Antoinette and cousin's maternal grandmother's grandfather's Little Red Riding Hood. For the rest, the door was ordinary and therefore you should not dwell on it in more detail.

Erich Maria Remarque
Come to me - said Wolf.
Red Riding Hood poured two glasses of brandy and sat on his bed. They inhaled the familiar scent of cognac. This cognac has been longing and fatigue - melancholy and fatigue fading dusk. Cognac was life itself.
- Of course - she said. - We have no hope. I have no future. Wolf was silent. It was agreed with her.