The Tale of Tall Thomas – A Witty Retelling of Red Riding Hood’s Next Chapter

“Have you eaten my mother?” I asked, standing at the threshold of her cottage, where the fireplace still crackled and the scent of lavender lingered faintly in the air.

At the foot of the bed, a large grey wolf lay curled like a housecat, one eyebrow raised but otherwise disinterested.

“Are you waiting for my daughter?” I continued. “Planning to eat her as well?”

The wolf yawned, revealing an impressive set of teeth.

“Well, you’ll be disappointed,” I told him, dusting off my coat. “My daughter, Little Red Riding Hood, won’t be coming. She’s grounded—for burning down the mayor’s house.”

The wolf flicked his tail lazily.

I sat on the edge of the bed, sighing deeply. My family was a dysfunctional circus of devoured grandmothers, pyromaniac daughters, and wayward fathers. Yet I thought, what’s the use of brooding?

“Allow me to introduce myself,” I said. “I’m Tall Thomas, a widower, and somewhat of an opportunist. I won’t shake your paw—recent dietary choices and all—but I want to offer you a deal.”

The wolf perked up an ear, intrigued.

“I intend to go abroad to seek my fortune,” I explained. “I need gold, silver—enough to buy the mayor a new house and clear my daughter’s reputation. Join me, and together we’ll find wealth and adventure.”

The wolf stretched, considered my offer, then muttered, “Why not? Clearly, waiting for your granddaughter is a waste of my time.”

With that, we left the cottage and headed to the beach, eager to set sail. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a ship in sight—only an abandoned sheet of wood washed ashore.

“Behold, our vessel!” I declared with exaggerated cheer, hauling the plank into the waves.

The wolf eyed the makeshift craft skeptically. “How do you plan to steer this… raft?”

“Easy,” I said, stepping onto the wood. “I’ll stand at the front, spread my cloak to catch the wind. You sit at the back and use your tail as a rudder.”

The wolf groaned but climbed aboard. As the wind caught my cloak, we began drifting into open water.

Not long into our voyage, a seagull swooped down and landed squarely on my head.

“Got any fish?” she asked.

“Not yet,” I replied, trying to shoo her away.

“Then I’ll stay. I’ll be your lookout,” she announced, settling in comfortably.

Behind me, I heard the wolf chuckle under his breath.

Minutes later, the seagull shouted, “Rocky island ahead!”

The wolf swished his tail to steer clear, just in time. From a cave on the island, a figure emerged—a pirate queen, brandishing a cutlass.

“Heave to and surrender your treasure!” she bellowed.

“We don’t have any!” I called back.

“Then prepare to be boarded!” she cried, diving into the sea. Moments later, she surfaced, flailing wildly.

“I can’t swim!” she screamed.

With a collective sigh, the wolf, the seagull, and I pulled her aboard.

“Thank you,” she gasped. “Now, where’s your treasure?”

“We have none,” I said. “But we’re in search of it.”

“Perfect!” she declared. “I’ll join you. Every quest needs a pirate.”

We pressed onward, a peculiar crew: Tall Thomas the widower, a ravenous wolf, a lookout seagull, and a pirate queen.

Then the wolf’s stomach growled ominously. His eyes darted to the pirate queen, and he licked his lips.

“How far to the next prosperous land?” I asked quickly.

“Three weeks, give or take,” the pirate queen answered.

That was too long without supplies.

“We’d better return for provisions,” I said. Everyone agreed without complaint. We turned the raft homeward, wind at our backs.

When we landed on the beach, to my astonishment, a crowd was waiting.

“Thomas, darling!” my mother cried, pulling me into a hug.

I gawked at the wolf. “I thought you ate her!”

“I never said that,” the wolf whispered back. “You assumed.”

Next came my daughter, Little Red herself, bounding up to me.

“You’re grounded!” I reminded her.

“Not anymore,” she replied cheekily. “The mayor didn’t mind. Turns out he wanted an excuse to move in with Grandmother—they were childhood sweethearts!”

She looked past me and squealed. “Oh Daddy, you brought me a doggy and a parrot!”

I glanced at the wolf, who shrugged and whispered, “I can be a dog.”

The seagull on my head cawed, “Will there be fish?”

“Probably,” I said.

“Then I can be a parrot.”

Just then, I remembered the pirate queen, still out to sea, using her cutlass to paddle back toward her rocky island.

“She said she’s returning home,” the mayor informed me.

I watched her silhouette fade against the waves and muttered, “I’m tempted to join her.”

“Go ahead,” my mother said.

“Really?” I asked, hopeful.

“No,” she replied flatly. “Now let’s have some dinner.”

And just like that, we trudged home—me, my mother, my daughter, a disguised wolf, and a very chatty seagull-turned-parrot. Fortune could wait. Tonight, we had family… and dinner.

Moral of the Story

Not every adventure needs treasure to be worthwhile. Sometimes, the real wealth is family, unlikely friends, and the laughter shared along the way. And if you’re clever, even a wolf can pass for a dog, and a seagull for a parrot.