Adventures from the Land of Stories: Queen Red Riding Hood's Guide to Royalty

Fellow Hoodians, admirers, royal subjects, and royal rejects. Thank you for choosing my first book, Queen Red Riding Hood's Guide to Royalty, as your reading selection. I can't imagine the anticipation, enthusiasm, and admiration coursing through your feeble bodies as you hold your very own copy. Before you excite yourself to the point of needing medical attention, I must thank you for the hours and/or days I assume you waited in line to purchase it. And to ease those uncontrollable thoughts of unconditional gratitude, just know the pleasure is all mine!

I'm certain your simple minds are all wondering the same thing. "Why would our astonishing queen go out of her way to write a book?" I thought the same thing when I first sat down to write it. The truth is, wherever I go, there are always crowds of devoted followers asking me the same questions: "Your Majesty, how do you do it? How do you manage to govern a prosperous kingdom, endure countless adventures, and maintain such beauty and poise so effortlessly?" Since I do not have the time (or the patience) to respond to each individual, I decided to compile my numerous secrets into this book to answer all your pressing questions at once. You're welcome.

The idea first came to me one evening while I was lounging in my newly refurnished library. I had just finished a charming and silly little play called Hamhead by William Shakyfruit—excuse me, Hamlet by William Shakespeare. I was looking for another humorous read from the Otherworld when I came upon a delightful book called The Prince by Nicole Macarena—or was it Niccolò Machiavelli? Well, whatever her name was, I thought it was a splendid story! In summary, The Prince was a guide to monarchy! Isn't that marvelous? It gave helpful hints on managing a government, making the proper alliances, and keeping respectable appearances. The best part of reading the book was realizing I've been doing everything correctly since my coronation! Although I doubt that surprises you.

However helpful Ms. Machiavelli's words were, I couldn't help feeling her book was a little outdated. It may have had its purpose at one point in time, but it isn't relevant to politics today—just like ruffled bloomers (more on that in my next book, Queen Red Riding Hood's Guide to Style).

Since I am the beacon of ideal leadership, I felt it was my duty to give the seminal classic a makeover! Who else could possibly be qualified for the job? For the next several minutes, or however long it takes to write a book, I will combine the concepts of The Prince with the constant requests of my people and create my own guide for future royals to follow and future royalists to treasure. Again, you're welcome.

History will see this guide as one of the greatest literary achievements of our time, because as queen, I have control over what history remembers. So, curl up with your copy in a cozy corner of your own library. Give your servants a list of meaningless tasks so that you aren't bothered. If you have children, tell your nannies to keep them at a ballroom's-length distance. Give your House of Parliament, Congress, or Progress the day off. Relax and enjoy this historical triumph!

I believe that, before taking advice from someone, it's important to know exactly whom you're taking the advice from. So before we dive into matters of economy, politics, image, charity, and all the other nonsense a king or queen deals with, it's important that I introduce you to the real me.

Naturally, this may confuse your delicate heads. After all, my profile is engraved on every coin, statues of me stand on every street corner, and I'm certain my portraits decorate your modest homes. You couldn't be unfamiliar with me if you tried! However, the familiarity I speak of has nothing to do with my exquisite appearance: I'm talking about the woman beneath the hood.

For the first time in my reign, I'm going to give you, my people, a glimpse into my personal life, my mind, my heart, and my impeccable soul. My past may be one of the greatest stories ever told, but rarely do I speak about it myself—unless you work at the castle; then you may hear me reminiscing two or three times a day.

There is more to my story than you realize, and once I share it with you, I believe you'll admire me even more than you do now. Yes, it's possible.

This will be hard to believe, but I was once as you are now. Just like Cinderella, I was an exceptional young girl cursed by humble beginnings. I was born to two simple farmers in the Northern Kingdom, long before the C.R.A.W.L. Revolution separated us from the north (more on that in a moment—please stay focused!). My parents mistreated me horribly, which is why I've chosen to distance myself from them today.

It saddens me to tell you that my childhood was filled with misery. Every morning I was forced out of bed before noon and ordered to do horrific tasks like chores and schoolwork. I was assaulted by rules and standards. I was restricted with curfews and bedtimes. Every day, my mother and father would say horrible things to me, like "you can't have that" and "no."

Despite my declarations that I deserved much better treatment, my parents ignored me, and the nightmare continued. As an only child, I had to endure it all alone. My parents must have known deep down I was extraordinary, because whenever I asked if I was going to have any brothers or sisters, they'd reply, "You're enough."

Unlike Cinderella, I did not let my unfortunate origins affect my sanity—you'll never see me talking to mice! Despite the mistreatment I received from my parents, I never stopped believing I was meant for bigger things (and I'm not talking about that summer when I gained weight and needed new clothes).

My weekend visits to my granny's house were my only sanctuary from my terrible home life. Granny never treated me like a servant or a prisoner but saw me as the exceptional human being I am. She treated me to candies, toys, and naps. She offered me the compassion and respect my early years were missing, always saying encouraging things like "have another cookie" and "yes." I honestly don't know how I would have survived without her.

Granny made my first hooded coat. She chose a fabric the exact color of my name and christened me Little Red Riding Hood. I think the coat helped her remember who I was when I showed up at her house. Poor Granny has never had the best memory.

In a serendipitous twist of fate, the people of my future kingdom were also suffering. The villages and farms of the Northern Kingdom were constantly under attack by wolves, with no salvation in sight. Queen Snow White's stepmother was on the throne at the time. She was so busy with her magic mirrors and attempted murder, she ignored her people's requests for protection—hence the name she is now remembered by: the Evil Queen.

When the Little Boy Who Cried Wolf was murdered, it was the last straw. The villagers and farmers banded together and started the C.R.A.W.L. (Citizens' Riots Against Wolf Liberty) Revolution with their sights set on establishing their own kingdom away from the Evil Queen's jurisdiction.