Here endeth the lesson. Well, what did I know? Like most performing arts majors, I knew a lot about performing and not much else. Well, how could that be used? Well, maybe Red performs at a cabaret club at nights... mmm, don't think so. Wait! What about the wolf? Maybe he was a performer... yeah, after all, he dresses up in costume, doesn't he? Yes, and, and... what if Grandpa (Grandma's hubby would take the place of the deus ex woodsman) was a talent agent?

BAM! It all spilled out. The Wolf was trying desperately to get a job. He was a bad comedian, but he had heart. He met Red on the path, ran ahead, then, with much comedy, ate Grandma. (Lights dim, Bach's Toccata, loud.) Then, after some witty repartee, ate Red. (Ditto.) Then, Grandpa comes home, finds a very fat wolf, and the wolf eats him. (Ditto, but the lights come back up...) Or does he? Grandpa's still there, cowering in a corner.

Grandpa: You didn't eat me?
Wolf: No... but I made you think I would, right?

Ah ha! The wolf is a good actor after all! But where are Red and Grandma? "They're in the closet," says the wolf (and Brent had just the right sheepish tone for this line). They're safe and sound, the wolves' fat is revealed to be just pillows, and, WOWED by the performance, Grandpa gives the wolf a job.

We liked it, or at least I did. And even when it had the dubious distinction of the smallest audience we ever played (one person), Brent (the wolf), Kathleen (Red), Mike (Grandpa), and Miranda (Grandma) did a bang-up job with it.

No, it's not Hamlet. But I still like it, and I think it would make a great children's book. Hmm...