Welcome, dear reader. I am glad you are here to join me today in sharing with you the tales of a most wonderous grandmother. Perhaps you are fortunate to have a grandmother or two yourself, those innocent old ladies who bring joy and baked goodies into children's lives. Well, rest assured, Grandma Gowdie is not like those grandmas; although baked goodies, she does have a few.

Like most stories of elderly grandmothers, the story of Grandma Gowdie starts with a young girl. Not a young Gowdie, of course; like most Grandmas, Grandma Gowdie is so old, and her wrinkles so deep no one really knows if she ever was anything other than a Grandma.

No, our story starts with a girl alone in a forest, a single plucked flower clipped behind her ear, large grass stains streaked across her knees, and a small red riding hood fending against the elements. Why, yes, it is that young girl you know so well, and yes, our story does contain that wolf you also know so well. However, he is busy further up the road, making arrangements in an isolated cabin.

Needless to say, the young girl was utterly oblivious to this, as young girls are wont to be, and she merrily skipped along the dirt path home, as young girls are wont to do. A wicker basket danced in the crook of her elbow along with the rhythm of her skip, and tendrils of sweetly delicious smells followed along, leaving the aroma of sticky sugar and fluffy dough still fresh from the oven to trace her journey.

It was that very smell from the basket which caught the curious noses of many a forest creature. Little beady eyes trailed after the girl from within the dark recesses of thick underbrush. Rabbits wondered if carrot cake still had the satisfying crunch of its namesake; squirrels questioned how nutty the cookies were; and two bare-toed goblins speculated on her shoe size.

'Goblins!' you say. Those timid, misunderstood, simple-minded folk of the wild? Those homely-cute, playful mischief makers not meaning any actual harm? No, these are not goblins of jesters and minstrels; these are goblins of the deepest, darkest forest. They are crafty. They are greedy. They are green, stubby, ugly monsters that would stoically salute you right before they ravenously loot you. And no goblins were more distrustful and distasteful than this pair, a brother and sister far from home and far from fed.

When the two sibling goblins with crooked ears and bruised rears decided they wanted her foods and boots, they set a trap for the wayward girl a ways along the road. It was an ingenious snare constructed with pliable vines, hidden among littered leaves, tautly hooked to a branch holding a balanced boulder precariously held by fraying twine. For the lure, the brother goblin gathered a bouquet he felt befitting of a merry child and placed it in the center of his trap. When the young girl finally came down the road and traipsed up to the bouquet, she knelt to investigate why a pile of ratty uprooted weeds were strewn about the path. As the girl stooped, the sister goblin swooped and clubbed the girl on the back of the head with a log.

The well-practiced highwaygoblins wasted no time. The brother, the younger and more greedy of the pair, was quick to the food, snickering in the wicker, where he was fed with a sweet and savoury red pastry. The older sister tossed her wet bat to the side and shoots for the shoes. She tested the footwear, but with both feet stuffed up to the knees, she knows not to be so keen. Perhaps a hat, but folded ears and covered eyes put an end to that. A backpack, or a rat trap, or maybe just a waste of scrap?

She discarded the boot and picked over the basket's remaining red treats. With a bloated belly, the brother goblin took the bright red cape now decorated with crimson smears. He swung the dress over himself and cackled as he played around, mocking a careless skip down the trodden trail. The sister clapped to her brother's show, seeing the cutely youthful boy blundering over the dragging cloak and drooping sleeves, looking... like...half... a human.

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The sister shoved one last steamy morsel into her mouth and glanced at her still tragically barren feet, then back to her brother, and a cunning plan began to creep. The girl's cabin must have a shoe or two and two goblins stacked atop one another, will a human do. She clambered atop her brother's shoulders, threw the cloak over themselves, and they stumbled down the lane to the girl's cabin.

By now, as the story goes, the wolf has made it to the grandma's house and done away with the old lady. A nightcap over notched ears and a gown pressed under handwoven quilts, hides a wolf in sleep's clothing. So when the goblins arrived, themselves disguised, it is the wolf that invites them in.

The goblins entered the humble cabin, and the boy greedily looked over his score. Torn cushions by the broken couch would make new pillows for his bed. He was sure that more sweety treats would be hiding under the collapsed pantry. The sister from under the red hood wrinkled her nose as her fur allergy kicked in.

The wolf cleared his throat from the bedroom and called out to the goblins, "My eyes are weak, my dear. Come beside me so I may see you." The goblins shared a malevolent smile before going to see the wolf. The wolf licked his lips as his prey approached, and the goblins licked their lips as they approached their prey.

When the goblins arrived right next to the bed, mere inches away, the wolf was surprised by what he saw. "My, what warted pointed ears you have, my child."

The goblin sister croaked back between her snickers, "All the better to hear your panting breath, grandma."

"And what a crooked nose you have."

"All the better to smell your dirty fur, Grandma."

"And what sharp claws you have."

"All the better to tear you apart and make boots of you wolf in grandma's bed." And the two goblins lept to the wolf.

But, lo dear reader, in the bed was not the wolf, nor the young bakery girl's caretaker, but it was none other than Grandma Gowdie wearing the wolf's skin like a robe. A flowered bonnet upon the head of a blooded wolf upon the head of a grimly grinning Grandma Gowdie. With a wicked smirk, she magically suspended the two goblins in the air above the bed. "Well, you are certainly not the little girl in red but red handed you certainly are. First wolf mischief, now goblin mischief; what are you up to here?"

Hanging in the air, the goblins whined and grovelled. "Don't kill us. We only wanted to help. We saw the wolf would hurt the girl, so we came to chase the beast away."

"Disguised in a cloak you decorated with the red girl's red blood? With red fingers and red lips painted with red pastry bits. I think you have come to make your fat bellies even fatter. Now that you have taken my little red, what should I do with you instead?"

Snivelling and pleading for their lives, the goblin siblings begged for mercy. "Please, great granny, spare us, and we will serve you. We will do anything for your courtesy."

"Anything you say? You are two very lucky goblins. As it so happens, I am getting stiff and grizzled and could use some help with my errands. In exchange for your lives, you will do as I say."

Grandma Gowdie placed the goblins on the ground, and they bowed their thanks and kissed her feet. "What are your names, miserable sots?"

Wringing his gnarled fingers, the brother piped up, "I am Xoilythis!clox. This is my sister ǀmoinlyns!clox."

Grandma Gowdie shook her head. "No, that will not do. My tongue is not as twisted as you. I will call you Handful, and your sister, Graceless. Now take this wolf's fur and make me that pair of slippers you were so eager for."

The two goblins smiled heartily with agreement and renewed appreciation for their lives. And you know what, dear reader? They made the warmest shoes Grandma Gowdie ever knew.