Rehabilitated: Episode Six – Finale

by Martin Smith
Previous Episodes

Having scrambled up and over the gates, BB ran up the driveway until his lungs burned and his side stitched. He stopped and stood panting as he looked up towards the lit house in the far distance. He then set off and hobbled up the inclining driveway. On and on he hobbled. One hour, two hours. On and on and up and up. He huffed. He puffed. But no matter what, he still couldn’t bring the house down to his level.

‘Who the hell needs a driveway this long?’ he said.

He walked past the silhouette of what looked like a small chapel, and as he passed its graveyard, the moon came from behind the clouds, and its light illuminated a single tombstone that sat forlornly amidst weed and vine. And on the tombstone BB saw a name—Red’s Sickly Grandmother—and below that name, a large arrow pointing towards the house, and below that arrow, etched in a small, italicised font, the words: They made me do it! All of it!

Yes, I know, I know, BB thought. They certainly did. A crystal tear formed in BB’s left eye and ran down his long snout as he looked down upon the tombstone. Despite her role in the whole nefarious affair, he’d liked the old girl: her cackle, her hypochondria, even her penchant for flannelette nighties buttoned to the top. But now he had no chance to forgive her face to face. Sometimes, BB lamented, fate and death’s relentless march threw a curveball at one’s plans for rehabilitation. He leant forward and placed his paw upon the top of the tombstone and whispered, ‘Grannie, I forgive you. I forgive you for all of it.’ He then turned and headed up the driveway to make his visit. The last act of forgiveness needed to complete his rehabilitation.

An hour later, BB crouched beneath a large open window outside the house. A fierce 

light from within blazed out into the surrounding garden. Clutching the axe, he cocked his ear and listened to a conversation occurring inside.

‘I say, Wilhelm,’ a voice said, ‘how about a toast?’

‘Certainly, Jacob,’ a different yet similar voice said. ‘To whom or what shall we toast?’

‘To prosperity. To eternal reverence in the Literary Canon. And lastly, yet most importantly, to dear Biggles Baddeley Wolfe. May we be ever thankful for his misdeeds. Who’d have thought any fairy-tale character could be that gullible to be used in such a sinister way?’

‘To BB Wolfe, God bless him. May he keep our glasses and our bank accounts full for another half-millennium.’

A clinking of glasses, slurping and satisfied sighs came from within.

Those bastards! BB thought. He knew it; indeed, he’d suspected it all along. The Brothers Grimm had framed him. His life story and all those faux felonies he had been accused of over the decades were mere fictions drawn from the cesspool that was the creative imaginations of those pompous, pratty, perfidious pricks. Worse still, the world would never know that he, BB Wolfe, was an innocent wolf, a rehabilitated wolf, all because those sanctimonious scribblers had held back on publishing his afterstory. And what of the others? The boy who cried wolf and his stunted maturation and vocabulary? Piggy and his avariciousness? Woody and his lack of business acumen? And Red—poor Red—and her vagrancy and her unhappy-ever-after. Were their lives fictions too? All due to the mendacious musings of a pair of porkers with their noses snout-deep in the royalties trough?

Anger filled BB, and he gripped the axe and rose and … no, he thought, that wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, he was close. So close to attaining rehabilitation. All he needed to do was knock on the door and forgive.

BB crouched and listened again.

‘Well, brother, it’s been a delicious meal washed down with a fine wine,’ Jacob said from within. ‘How about we finish the night off with a little incest? Ready for a little debauchery, a little ménage à trois, a little ho-mo-sexuality?’

‘Yes, please!’ Wilhelm said.

‘What do you fancy, tonight, little brother? An evil but libidinous stepbrother? A prurient Prince Charming? A concupiscent person of short stature?’

‘Surprise me.’

‘OK. You fluff the pillows while I phone the agency.’

BB heard a phone picked up and dialled.

‘Hello? It’s Jacob Grimm here … yes, I’m very well, thank you. Look, Wilhelm and I are celebrating a special anniversary tonight. You probably read about it in the paper … Yes, that’s right. Five hundred years since Little Red Riding Hood graced the woods. We’re in the mood for a little company. A strong, silent, muscle-bound archetype who’s happy to role-play the bed-ridden, wrinkly trope. So, could I ask that you send your finest escort over ASAP? … Yes, put it on the tab. And please make sure you double our usual tip. Thank you.’

Yes, BB thought, opportunity had come knocking and rehabilitation beckoned. He crept over to the front door. As he stood before the big brass knocker, he spied a fuse box to his left. Yes, he thought, that will do nicely. He raised the Chekhov half-brick above his head (for why else introduce an element earlier in the story if not to use it later) and with two swift blows, he smashed the fuses and the mansion went dark.

A shout of ‘What the blazes?’ came from within.

BB stepped up to the door and knocked.

‘I’m coming,’ a voice called from inside, followed by a mumbled, ‘if I can find the blessed door.’

After much thudding and crashing, the door opened, and a voice in the dark within said, ‘Can I help you?’

‘Hi,’ BB said, ‘I’m Lex. Lex Talionis. The escort agency sent me.’

‘My word, that was quick.’

‘I was in the area.’

‘My, my, what a deep voice you have, Lex.’

‘All the better to talk dirty to you with.’

‘Ooh, yes! You’ll do nicely. My brother will be delighted. Well, Lex, come in, come in. Sorry about the darkness. Can I fix you a drink?’

‘No, thanks. I’d prefer we get straight to it. If you’d just direct me to the bedroom, I’ll slip into something a little more alluring and powder my nose. Then we can get to it.’

‘Certainly. Put your hands on my shoulders, and I’ll try to lead the way.’ BB placed his paws on Jacob’s shoulders.

‘My, my, what big hands you have, Lex.’

‘All the better to discipline you with.’

Jacob let out a squeal of delight.

The two lumbered forward in the dark until Jacob paused and a door creaked. ‘Right, Lex, here’s the dungeon—sorry, the bedroom. If you would like to get changed and make yourself comfortable, I’ll find out what Wilhelm’s doing about that blessed candle.’

BB released his paw from Jacob’s shoulder, and with a squeeze of Jacob’s buttock, he said, ‘Do hurry, big boy. I’ve something that I wish to give you and your brother. Something that will blow your minds; indeed, the ultimate experience in swinging.’

Jacob released another squeal of delight.

BB fumbled his way into the bedroom and found the bed. He unfurled the hood and put it on and climbed in under the sheets. He sat up and waited. Waited to greet the Brothers Grimm upon their return. Waited to give them his forgiveness. Waited to complete his rehabilitation.

A faint light came from beyond the bedroom doorway, and as it strengthened, BB heard whispered voices.

‘… I’m first, Jacob.’

‘No, I’m first.’

‘But I went last, last time.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘You most certainly did not.’

‘I most certainly did.’

‘You did not.’

‘I did.’

‘Didn’t.’

‘Did.’

‘DIDN’T.’

‘DID.’

‘DIDN’T!’

‘DID!’

‘DIDN’T!’

‘DID!’

‘DID!’

‘DIDN’T!!!’

‘See, I told you so. Now shush, or we’ll scare him off.’

A lit candle entered the room, followed by a shaking arm and the eager faces of the Brothers Grimm.

‘Lex, this is my brother, Wilhelm.’

‘It’s “Grandma”, if you don’t mind, boys,’ BB said in a high-pitched, gravely voice. ‘I’m in character.’

‘Hello, Grandma,’ Wilhelm said, followed by a gleeful lick of his lips.

The brothers took a step forward in unison and peered into the gloom.

‘Goodness, Grandma,’ Wilhelm said, ‘what big eyes you have.’

‘All the better to undress you with,’ BB said.

And the Brothers Grimm shivered and squealed as one.

‘Goodness, Grandma,’ Wilhelm said, ‘what big ears you have.’

‘All the better—when I whip you—to hear your squealed pleas for mercy with.’

And the Brothers Grimm writhed and giggled as one.

‘Goodness, Grandma,’ Wilhelm said, ‘what a big mouth you have.’

‘All the better to bl—’

‘Good God!’ Jacob shouted as he raised the candle and a pointed finger. ‘What the hell is that you’re packing under that sheet? It’s enormous. It’s stupendous. It’s tumescent. It’s …’

BB whipped the sheet off himself.

‘… an AXE!’

‘All the better to behead the two of you with!’

The Brothers Grimm screamed, then Wilhelm fainted and collapsed to the floor. Jacob dropped the candle and the room went dark. ‘But … but …’ Jacob called out, ‘this isn’t how the story’s supposed to end. Fairy tales are meant to have happy endings. For goodness’ sake, we created you. We workshopped you. We even rehabilitated you. Good God, you don’t even exist. You’re just a figment of our imaginations, specifically crafted to relate a story about forgiveness and rehabilitation.’

‘Rehabilitation? Rehabilitation, my arse. This is all about retribution!’ And gripping his axe, BB leapt forward into the dark of night.

A new serial will premiere here next Sunday!