Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a big city called Tehran. Whenever she went out, which was usually to pray, the little girl wore a red praying burqa, so everyone in the city called her Little Red Praying Burqa (LRPB for brevity). So pious was LRPB that not a single toe nor a single hair were visible, and imam-approved red latex gloves covered her hands.
One morning, LRPB asked her mother if she could go to visit her grandmother as it had been awhile since they'd seen each other.
"That's not a good idea," her mother said, "there is a Tehran-wide alert issued by our spiritual father the Grand Ayatollah this morning":
"Families in our neighborhood have been warned that if you go out during the protest...among the enemies of the regime...there might be a chance that Israelis might take you," an elderly man who resides in an impoverished part of Tehran said by telephone last week.
"So, you see, my dearest LRPB, the streets of Tehran are full of big bad Zionist Wolves," said the mother,
"and I can't allow you to put your life in danger. You just wait till the good
basijis catch and kill all the wolves and then you shall be free to visit Grandma".
LRPB, however, being of a strong and willful manner, decided to go, mother's words notwithstanding. And - oh mistake of all mistakes - in her hurry to leave the house when her mother was busy in the kitchen, she forgot the holy Qur'an!
To make the long story short, the Zionist Wolf (ZW) learned about LRPB's destination, using the infamous Zionist mind control rays and, a little out of breath from running, arrived at Grandma's and knocked lightly at the door.
"Thanks to Allah you arrived safe, dear! Come in, come in! I was worried sick that something had happened to you on the way," said Grandma thinking that the knock was her granddaughter. ZW let himself in. Poor Granny did not have time to say another word, before ZW gobbled her up!
ZW let out a satisfied burp, and then poked through Granny's wardrobe to find a burqa that he liked. He added a frilly sleeping cap, and for good measure, dabbed some of Granny's perfume behind his pointy ears. A few minutes later, LRPB knocked on the door. ZW jumped into bed and pulled the covers over his nose.
"Who is it?" he called in a cackly voice.
"It's me, Little Red Praying Burqa."
"Oh how lovely! Do come in, my dear," croaked ZW .
When LRPB entered the little cottage, she could scarcely recognize her Grandmother.
"Grandmother! Your voice sounds so odd. Is something the matter?" she asked.
"Oh, I just have touch of a cold," squeaked ZW adding a cough at the end to prove the point.
"But Grandmother! What big ears you have," said LRPB as she edged closer to the bed.
"The better to hear you with, my dear," replied ZW .
"But Grandmother! What big eyes you have," said LRPB .
"The better to see you with, my dear," replied ZW.
"But Grandmother! Where does this big tail come from?" said LRPB.
"Uh... it's not a tail, my dear," replied ZW, blushing mightily.
"But Grandmother! What big teeth you have," said LRPB, her voice quivering slightly.
"The better to eat you with, my dear," roared ZW and he leapt out of the bed, began to chase the little girl and, eventually, gobbled her up too. Not having the holy book of Qur'an with her, LRPB was defenseless.
It was LRPB's good luck that a group of young basijis was strolling nearby, discussing an especially complicated surah from the holy Qur'an. At the sound of commotion they've broken into the Grandma's house, killed the Zionist Wolf, opened his huge stomach and lo and behold! Both LRPB and her Grandma came out of ZW unharmed and in one piece. Er... it should be "in two pieces", but whatever.
Still, the story didn't end well. Stomach juices of the Zionist Wolf dissolved part of the LRPB's burqa, and lo and behold 2:
And thus the willful and stubborn Little Red Praying Burqa brought shame and infamy to her pure and pious family for ever and ever. Her heartbroken father was forced to leave his job in the Ministry of Poetic Justice and these days sells encyclopedias and holy Qur'an door to door in the rural areas to bring some meager sustenance to the family. The fate of the mother is not for you to learn yet, children.
As for the Little Red Praying Burqa: of course she was stoned by the Grand Ayatollah himself and seven of his closest lieutenants. Meaning Ayatollahs.
I hope the lesson to be learned from the tale is clear, dear children: never leave your house without a spare burqa and never even dream about going somewhere without an escort of a basiji or two.
Capisce?
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