[... The wolf is rhyming. And smiling in a way that very much tells him he should run before he doesn't have the option...
But his feet won't move; god knows they should, but they aren't, oh crap.]
Why yes, it is pie! I'm taking it to my grandmother who is ill! [... Wait... how does she know he's going to his grandmother's? This sounds awfully suspicious...]
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But his feet won't move; god knows they should, but they aren't, oh crap.]
Why yes, it is pie! I'm taking it to my grandmother who is ill! [... Wait... how does she know he's going to his grandmother's? This sounds awfully suspicious...]