I have written my history somewhat differently
I did wrote it to give nursery teachers
A topic of talk on
and so they could get a clear lesson
I want to tell that little girls shouldn't run inside the woods
to look for funny flowers,
and should stay away from strangers.

And then I've transfigured the plot
Couldn't I have torn her flesh into pieces
and suck the salty bones of her body
Why did I have to be curious about the living hood of her granny?
As if I, a jungle traveler
had no idea of the hut
under the giant banyan tree
and the old woman lived there
all on her own?
As if I couldn't have devoured her a decade before?

And you may call me the Monster Wolf,
now my only entitlement
But I was not a child-abuser
though you'll accept that she was beautiful.

The hunter had
Cut my thick grey fur
Bisected my round belly 
and overloaded me with trash and stones
So that children could make fun of me.
So that they could have frowned smelling
The odor from inside of my stomach
and even hit me with wooden sticks
So that I would have to end the tale
on a crying note.

(A rephrased version of A Wolf's Postscript to Little Red Riding Hood)