The Jungle Wolf: A Story to Read Aloud

I'm writing this down as part of my curriculum, How to Teach Your Child to Write a Novel. This is a part of Lesson #3: Villains. "The Jungle Wolf" is a story my mother told me when I was little. I always imagined the red flower in the story to be Oswego Tea (or Bergamot) which is an exotic-looking red flower that grows in rare spots in the woods in Pennsylvania. Enjoy!

Once upon a time, in the middle of the woods, there was a brave little girl who lived with her mother in a small stone cottage. Every morning, when she went out to play, the mother told her, "My daughter, you can play in the front yard, and you can play in the back yard, and you can climb the trees, but DON'T go into the woods. Not even if you really, really want to! Because in the woods lives the Jungle Wolf! He has red eyes, and drooling jowls, and sharp fangs, and he eats little girls!"

And the little girl always did just what her mother told her because she wasn't the type of child to disobey her mother, and because she didn't want the Jungle Wolf to eat her up!

Now one day, the little girl was playing just at the edge of the yard, and she was staring into the woods, wondering what it would be like to go there, and see all the interesting things hidden there among the ferns and the tall trees. There in the woods, just out of her reach, she saw a beautiful red flower. It was so lovely, and so interesting, that she just had to pick it! So do you know what she did? She went right into the woods, that brave little girl, straight over to that flower, and she picked it.

When it was in her hand, she turned her head and had a look around. After all, this was her chance to see the woods and all the interesting things she'd dreamed she'd find there. Was she afraid of the Jungle Wolf? Not much! And do you know what she saw, just over there, just out of her reach?

Another red flower.

So do you know what she did? She went deeper into the woods, that brave little girl, straight over to that flower, and she picked it. And another, and another. And when she had a big bouquet of all the red flowers she had found, she looked around herself, and realized that she was very, very far away from home. And all around her the forest was still. And quiet. (whisper) And she could hear the ferns waving, and the trees growing. And she could hear (suddenly loud) GAHOGACHEE! GAHOGACHEE! GAHOGACHEE! It was the Jungle Wolf! And he was coming to eat her up!

The Jungle Wolf pounced on her, with his red eyes, and his drooly jowls, and his sharp fangs, and he said, "NOW I have you! And I am going to eat you up!"

The little girl said, "Oh, please, Mr. Jungle Wolf! Don't eat me! For if you let me go, I will stay right here and sing you a song!"

The Jungle Wolf let go of the little girl. He was very fond of songs. "Well alright," he said. "You can sing me a song, and I'll eat you right after that."

So the little girl began to sing: (in a sweet high sing-song voice) "Quee-Quiy-Quo-Quay, Quee-Quiy-Quo-Quay." And the Jungle Wolf began to get a little sleepy. (Pretend to get sleepy, and have the child join you in singing the song) "Quee-Quiy-Quo-Quay, Quee-Quiy-Quo-Quay." And then... he... was... asleep. Now the little girl stopped singing and began to creep, creep, creep away from the Jungle Wolf and back toward her house. Creep, creep, creep.... SNAP! She stepped on a twig and broke it!

(Then you repeat the last part, as many times as it's amusing to the child who's listening. The last time will end with the litle girl getting home.)

GAHOGACHEE! GAHOGACHEE! GAHOGACHEE! It was the Jungle Wolf! And he was coming to eat her up!

The Jungle Wolf pounced on her, with his red eyes, and his drooly jowls, and his sharp fangs, and he said, "NOW I have you! And I am going to eat you up!"

The little girl said, "Oh, please, Mr. Jungle Wolf! Don't eat me! For if you let me go, I will stay right here and sing you a song!"

The Jungle Wolf let go of the little girl. He was very fond of songs. "Well alright," he said. "You can sing me a song, and I'll eat you right after that."

So the little girl began to sing: (in a sweet high sing-song voice) "Quee-Quiy-Quo-Quay, Quee-Quiy-Quo-Quay." And the Jungle Wolf began to get a little sleepy. (Pretend to get sleepy, and have the child join you in singing the song) "Quee-Quiy-Quo-Quay, Quee-Quiy-Quo-Quay." And then... he... was... asleep. Now the little girl stopped singing and began to creep, creep, creep away from the Jungle Wolf and back toward her house. Creep, creep, creep.... SNAP! She stepped on a twig and broke it!

GAHOGACHEE! GAHOGACHEE! GAHOGACHEE! <> (bring your hands down hard on the table, or clap, or something). She leaped into the kitchen, and slammed the door, and was SAFE from the Jungle Wolf, who had to go back to the woods. And she never, ever, ever went out into the woods again by herself, no matter how many red flowers she could see from where she stood! The end.

Discussion:

1. What would the story be like without the Jungle Wolf? Can you retell the story without a villain?
2. What does the red flower symbolize for the girl? What does it represent?
3. Was the little girl right or wrong to go out of the yard and after the red flowers?

Not Quite Snow White: A Mixed-up Fairy Tale to Read Aloud

Not Quite Snow White

Once upon a time in a faraway land where people put horseradish on their waffles and butter on their tacos just to spice them up, there lived a beautiful queen. Her long hair was like the down of ducklings, and her eyes the hue of the summer sky. Her skin was so fine, you could sometimes see her thoughts flitting past inside: lovely thoughts, helpful thoughts, thoughts the color of sweet nectar. Her name was Daffodil.

Daffodil lived all alone in a beautiful castle with only her terrible, evil, vicious stepdaughter for company. The king, you see, had recently died. He died the same way his first wife died long ago: I'm sorry to say that he was poisoned! Everyone knew, or everyone kind of thought, or everyone almost guessed that their terrible, evil, vicious daughter, the princess, had poisoned both the old queen and the old king, but no one could ever prove it. Because of this, Daffodil lived in terrible fear that she would be next to be poisoned, and every drop of water she drank, every strawberry she tasted, gave her the greatest concern.

The young princess on the other hand ate everything she could find, without a second thought. She had a particular fondness for apples, and used to go haughtily through the king’s orchards, plucking the fruit from the tree, taking one bite, and then throwing the rest in the ditch. You see, besides being vicious and cruel and poisoning her parents, she was also wasteful with food, which is almost worse, don’t you think? She made quite a picture, thundering through the countryside on her mad red mare. She had hair the color of a crow’s wing, and lips the color of blood, and her skin was so pale, so white, it was like a layer of chalk upon her flesh, or of mason’s paste, it was that flat and thick. They called her Snow White.

Everyone knew, or thought, or guessed, that Snow White would be queen one day, as soon as she got around to poisoning Daffodil and getting her out of the picture. It was only a matter of time.

Now the frightened queen had a magic mirror, which would answer truthfully any question put to it. She had the nervous habit of asking the mirror thus:

“Mirror mirror, in my hand, who is the one true queen of the land?”

And the mirror, dutifully, maddeningly, inexorably, showed the queen a picture of the evil Snow White, looking as smug as a cat who has swallowed a horse. Licking her blood-red lips, smoothing her crow-black hair, glowering behind her pasty skin. Daffodil knew that she and the kingdom were both certainly in for it, if Snow White were to become queen. One day, it all got to be too much for Daffodil to consider. She called up the king’s army, set them onto the evil princess, and had her thrown down the mountain and banished from the castle forever. I will tell you that the effort of so much logical behavior took so much out of her, she had to lie down on a pillow for the rest of the afternoon.

Snow White plummeted down the mountain, crashing against rocks, scraping down branches, hurtling over cliffs, and all the while she was cursing, cursing the laziness which had made her postpone Daffodil’s poisoning, cursing the fact that the castle was so ridiculously high up the mountain, and also swearing vengeance on the queen. When she got down to the bottom, she was quite perfectly dead except for her one little snow white finger, which was still alive. She lay there for the rest of the day, broken over a rock, waiting.

That night, when the sun went down, the trolls who lived under the mountain and mined it for coal came out to hunt for food. When they found this plump young human lying practically on their doorstep, they jumped for joy and started discussing sauces. However, as they got near enough to swoop her up, the one finger still alive stood up and shook its fierce little head, demanding that they stand back. The trolls were so spooked by the living finger that they felt sure Snow White must be a powerful witch, who shouldn’t be trifled with. So they took her back to their troll hole and nursed her back to health. As Snow White regained her former strength, she became fixated on regaining her former position in the kingdom as well. Irritated with the way the royal army had made such short work of her, she began to train the trolls to fight.

Meanwhile, back at the castle, Daffodil had got up the courage to check the mirror again. “Mirror Mirror in my hand, who is the one true queen of the land!” Guess whose picture she saw? You’re right. Still Snow White. No change. Meaning that, of course, Snow White was not dead. After asking around in the village, she ascertained that the trolls under the mountain had found a new, scary kind of witch to lead them. Being not as dumb as she was kind, she put two and two together.

Daffodil disguised herself as an old woman, and went to the king’s apple orchard to fill her basket with apples. Then she coated them with some of Snow White’s own poison, which she had carelessly left lying around in her dressing room, under some old socks. Thus prepared, she traveled down the mountain to the troll hole and knocked on the door. Snow White answered.

“Yes?” she asked haughtily. She was busy, teaching one of the trolls how to use a two handed sword.

“Please, ma’am,” said Daffodil, quaking with fear under her disguise, “Will you buy an apple, from the king’s orchard?”

“You must have stolen them, you old filth,” said Snow White, “I’ll have the whole basket, and give you no money for them. You’re lucky I don’t turn you in to the palace guard.”

Daffodil ducked her head, backing away, and made a run for it. Snow White slammed the door to the troll hole. Can you imagine what happened next? Do you think that bad little princess took a bite out of that stolen apple? I’ll tell you what she did – she took a bite out of three of them, yes, three apples with one bite each, and threw the rest in the corner! By the third one, she was quite poisoned, and had to lie down on the floor, paralyzed. Which means, unable to move. Except for, again, that darn little finger. There she waited for the trolls to come home.

The finger instructed the trolls to build a beautiful diamond coffin for her, lay her in it, dressed in her finest gown, and set it close to the main highway through the forest. The trolls, of course, being coal miners, had ready access to sheets of diamonds enough to build 10 coffins, if they wanted, but they built the one, loaded her into it, and set it out by the road. Then, being trolls, they went and ate a bunch of rabbits. Who knows what mad scheme was in her mind, but it doesn’t matter, because here’s what happened:

There she lay, stiff as a rock, her chalk-white skin like a death mask over her face, her glittering gown in brilliant waves around her, her red lips glowing like frozen rubies. And who do you think came down the road? Correct. A perfectly handsome, nice, caring, thrifty, clean, brave prince came thundering down the road on his milk-white steed, on his way to Daffodil’s castle. He had heard that the queen was quite alone now, and had always considered her very interesting, and thought the position of king might be open.

When he saw the diamond coffin of Snow White, he stopped in his tracks. You know, or you might not know yet, that bad people often have quite a fascinating attraction about them. This must have been what happened to the nice, kind prince. He must have been bewitched by her wildness, by her dark qualities, by her undeniable beauty. Or maybe it was the tiny little finger, still alive, calling him, speaking to him, instructing him on what to do. Lift your sword, bring it down, crash the diamond casket, and kiss the princess. Now you know, in this faraway land, diamonds aren’t that hard, right? I already told you they put butter on tacos, can you not imagine that diamonds might be easier to break than sugar candy? Well then. Even though the little birds were calling out their warnings, even though the very stream that ran beside the road shouted out for him to stop, he brought his sword down and the coffin exploded into a bazillion glittering jewels.

Up from the fray rose Snow White in all her dark and terrible glory. She whipped a small dagger out of her belt, called for her troll army, and began to battle with the prince. She would prevail, she would lay waste to him, and then she and her soldiers would march on the castle and bring down the simpering whipped cream queen. Except that, of course, she didn’t. The prince was victorious. With good old-fashioned valor and virtue, and the fact that trolls are really bad at weapons and she would have needed way way longer to make them competent with swords, he hacked through her and her minions, and left them behind on his way to the castle. Once there, he wowed Queen Daffodil with his awesome battle story, and she married him immediately. Later, they checked with the mirror. Who is the one true queen of the land? Only Queen Daffodil. And the kingdom rejoiced.

Now lest you think in your secret heart that Queen Daffodil was a bit too good, and Snow White might have made a more interesting Queen anyway, let me tell you that good Queen Daffodil, just to make sure things were good and settled, ate that bad little finger of Snow White's. And that's just about the most interesting thing I've ever heard in my life.

Would you like to print out this story? Try the print-friendly version! It's a PDF.

Would you like to read another story? Try Johnny Appleseed!