titolo_onceupon
Little post-modern fairy tale

Once upon a time there was a chatting wolf. Just like that, instead of hunting in the woods, the old wolf, with his ears pointed like cypresses and his eyes fiery like two stoves lit on a winter evening, chatted. Sitting in front of the computer, he wrote poetry, played some solitaire, but most of the time he surfed the web and chatted.

Pretending to be sick and needing help, he managed to lure Fegatello into his lair, but he had turned out to be a Red Cross porcupine and wanted to give him a whole pack of restorative stings at all costs. Two weeks later, it was the hard-as-a stone turtle’s turn, who on the internet is called Salamino. Once in the wolf’s house, he did not want to hear reasons and forced him to bed for two weeks, feeding him cabbage soup and mushrooms and cups of chamomile that moreover came to the poor hungry wolf after endless hours of waiting: in fact, it was at that time that the turtle travelled from the room to the kitchen and vice versa.

After all these misadventures, finally one day the wolf had discovered a site that had given him hope: www.itreporcellini.com Completely happy, he had invited them to spend some time with the poor sick granny and a few days later he had disguised himself to wait for them. Come on, come nicely. How kind of you to have visited me. I am so alone – she strove to make her voice as soft and sweet as possible, and let the little pigs enter the house…

Zac

In a quick move, the double-mandated door was closed behind his shoulders. What beautiful rosy and chubby creatures. If it were up to him, he would jump and eat them in a single bite but, alas, even fairy tale wolves have rules to respect. Lying in bed, he made them sit around him. They watched him as his stomach gurgled like a newly unclogged sink and his mouth struggled to contain saliva.
– What big ears the lady has – said a little pig.
– To hear better – the wolf claimed, no longer filled with contentment.
– And what big eyes – noted the second piggy.
– And what long eyelashes. What mascara do you use? – asked the third one who was the smartest, and it was, actually, a little pig named Zena.

This is a secret, and I cannot tell it –
– What beautiful hair, is it natural or did she make locks?
– I mean, do you think that those are questions to ask of a lady? – said the embarrassed wolf.
– And what beautiful hands the lady has.
– To better caress you with my children.
They asked hundreds of questions to which the wolf tried to answer diligently, waiting for the question that never came, until he began to get irritated:
– And you do not say anything about my mouth. Do you have any questions about my mouth? – he asked, gasping monstrously.
But the three little pigs, who had glimpsed at the black and silky tail popping up from under the blankets, were careful not to ask him that question.
– What beautiful teeth you have. Are they all yours? – asked Zena again. –
– And what toothpaste do you use to make them so white? – insisted his brother.

In the evening, exhausted and with a bad headache, the poor wolf went with the three little pigs to the door under a pretext and returned to the house in search of an aspirin. Sitting at his pine table drinking a blueberry herbal tea, he complained as such: – Alas, there are no more fairy tales of the past, where the right characters asked the right questions – And the next day he decided that he would sell the computer and buy himself a scooter to frolic with on the sidewalks of the forest.

Story by Fabrizio Silei
llustrations by Michele Bruttomesso
Story by Fabrizio Silei
Illustrations by Michele Bruttomesso
all4_logo
error: Content is protected !!