“Dr. Glass, your 3:00 appointment is here.” The receptionist whispered confidentially into the intercom, “it’s the court-required patient.”
“Thank you, Miss Muffet. Send him in.” As a popular psychiatrist for the municipal justice system, Dr. Glass saw a lot of these patients. It was part of their rehabilitation after serving most of their sentence.
“Should I lay down on the couch, Doctor?” Franklin Fangborn asked timidly.
“If you wish. Or you can sit in the chair. Whatever you feel comforting doing.” Dr. Glass sized his patient up. Big, hairy, hard eyes, pointed ears, long snout, sharp fangs. The doctor had read the newspaper accounts of his crimes, and knew Mr. Fangborn by the nickname the tabloids had given him: the Big Bad Wolf.
Franklin curled up on the couch like a dog. He looked pretty harmless like that.
“So,” Dr. Glass began, smiling, “how are you doing?”
“Well, alright, I guess. I mean, I’m over the whole pig fixation thing. Really, doc. I was a different person then. The whole huffing and puffing routine. I was huffing curds and whey at that time, just an angry young wolf looking to prove something.”
“I see.” Dr. Glass made some notes on his legal pad. “And how do you feel towards pigs now?”
“Pigs?” Franklin’s ears shot up and his nostrils flared momentarily. Slowly and calmly, he replied, “I realize that they have a right to exist without harassment or intimidation, and, uh, they should be able to live in whatever type of structure they want without being subjected to protection payments.”
It sounded too rehearsed, too smooth, to Dr. Glass. This wasn’t the first time he’d encountered this type of deceptive patient. The Rumpelstiltskin case came to mind.
The doctor decided to try another approach. “You moved from pigs to little girls. Particularly one wearing a red riding hood. Why do you think?”
Franklin’s eyes narrowed, and his ears laid back. “That was a mistake, doc. I know that now. Getting involved with an underage girl, even though she was coming on to me, well, it was just wrong. There’s no defense for my actions.”
“And her grandmother?”
Franklin sighed heavily at the memory. “Another mistake. I just wanted her out of the way, so I could have Red all to myself, and well, like I said earlier, I blame dope.” He looked imploringly at Dr. Glass, “I’ll admit it, I was smoking Old King Cole’s pipe a lot then; why else would I think I could possibly pass myself off as an old white lady, to her own granddaughter, no less?”
“I see. So dressing up in women’s clothes was not a motivation?”
“Hell no, doc. I’m sorry, I mean certainly not. I’m not one of those cross-dressing types. I met plenty of them in prison, and that’s not me. Not at all. I’m all he-wolf, that’s for sure.”
Infantile sexual preoccupation, the doctor scribbled on his notepad. Explains moving from pink, cherubic little pigs to pink-cheeked, preteen girls, he added. “What do you see yourself doing when you’re released?”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Franklin’s eyes narrowed like a wolf on the hunt. “And I believe I could be useful, to society and all, you know, by helping keep young people safe, protect them from people like I used to be.” He smiled broadly when he finished, his fangs glistening wetly.
“Un-huh. And how would you do that?”
Franklin sat up, retracted his claws, and tapped his fingertips together as he spoke. “For example, Goldilocks. I know those three bears she hangs around, and they’re no good. “Cool Papa” Bear has a horrible temper, and a real appetite for tender flesh, if you chase my drift. “Big Mama” is a real neatnik, so Goldie’s messy habits are gonna spell trouble when Mama’s had enough. “Baby Bear,” Junior to his friends, is looking to start his own rep; Goldie’s just the target he needs.”
Dr. Glass leaned back in his chair. “And you see yourself as-?”
“Goldie’s protector. Someone she could depend on and trust. Her savior.” Franklin’s sudden enthusiasm caused him to lick his lips and extend his claws.
Dr. Glass jotted still a hunger pedophile in his notes and underlined it. He tried to look reassuring to Franklin when he said, “Time’s up for today; we’ll pick this up next week.”
After Franklin left, Dr. Glass buzzed Miss Muffet. “Call Judge Piper and tell him no early parole for Mr. Fangborn.”
Rod Drake has been published in Flashes of Speculation, Flashing In the Gutters, Flash Flooding, Flash Forward, Fictional Musings and AcmeShorts. Despite the fact that he lives in Las Vegas, he does not hang out with Siegfried and Roy.
Hilarious! Especially since the three little pigs has been my daughters most requested story as of late. Great job.