Zweisprachig! Deutsch-Englisch: The Big Bad Wolf Strikes It Rich!

Von Nicole Russin-McFarland

“Adults dissatisfied by manufactured children’s literature, rejoice! The impish satirical tale of The Big Bad Wolf Strikes It Rich! Fairy Tale Memoirs is The Art of the Deal written by Red Riding Hood’s nemesis and it’s all sorts of brilliant.” — Essex Magazine, giving a very wolfy compliment

The bilingual edition of The Big Bad Wolf Strikes It Rich! is perfect for learning a new language at school, home or work for ages 8-1,000. The Big Bad Wolf isn’t who you think he is. For starters, he has a legal name – Aladdin Todd Jackson – and from the time he meets the magical genie trapped in a recycled energy drink can, he embarks on a grand, wolfy Wall Street adventure. In stories based on Grimm’s Fairy Tales and European folklore with a modern Manhattan twist, come along as this luxury loving wolf with a heart of gold beneath his scary teeth learns lessons about business and real life.

• Sprache: Deutsch
• Herausgeber: Lucky Pineapple Books
• Erscheinungsdatum: 17. Nov. 2017
• ISBN: 9781386731689

Buchvorschau

Chapter 4

Aladdin and the Magic Soda Pop Bottle Lamp

  What can I say? Years ago, I was infamous. The media gave me the nickname of The Big Bad Wolf when I was on trial for a triple homicide; I was falsely accused of murdering three pigs! My real name is Aladdin Todd Jackson, for your information. Every night, the news shows had guests arguing about my legal problems. A female TV host called me a wolf in sheep's clothing. I don't think so. I only wear Armani. Because I had money and looks, I was unfairly portrayed as a bad guy.

The judge said he did not have enough evidence to convict me. The only evidence against me was a single note. It read, I will huff and puff and blow your house down if you aren't my BBQ sandwich tomorrow. My lawyer presented receipts from the past six months. Did I do it? Of course…not! My defense showed how I only eat at vegetarian restaurants, and an expert showed it wasn't my handwriting! As if I would eat a messy pulled pork sandwich!? I eat at five star Italian restaurants. Usually veggie pasta, hold the Parmesan. I digress.

With my name in the clear, I thought of several career moves. Originally, I thought I could become famous for being famous. A wolf’s gotta earn a living. I released a song. I recorded my own version of Hungry Like the Wolf. It flopped because Justin Bieber had released his remake first, six months ago to be exact. Then, oh boy, I lost a movie audition because the movie director said, You don't look enough like a wolf.

But I am a wolf, I argued! I flashed him my teeth as proof. He said I just had horrible dental work.

The media followed me everywhere. I couldn't go eat a salad without being photographed. Cameras once swarmed me as I lunched at The Ivy. I couldn’t buy wolf cleaning supplies anywhere. Do you know how humiliating it is getting caught in pajama pants printed with ice cream cones? Photographers hid behind bushes, ready to snap photos of me should I eat a pig with one bite!

Everything was blown out of proportion in the tabloids. When I had a bad meal, I told a rude waiter, You’re a pig. He sold his story to a reporter. The article said, The Big Bad Wolf hates pigs! No, I don't. I hate the men who act like pigs. Before long, a British tabloid accused me of wolfing down a pig in Essex. I couldn't escape the bad publicity. Was I really made for a career in entertainment? I had spent all my money on legal fees. I was desperate.

Depressed, I spent my days being turned down at auditions, surfing, and shopping with the money I still had on Rodeo Drive until I pied my debt up to the ceiling. When debt collectors began harassing me after I quit paying my credit card bills, I opened my back teeth so wide, you could see my uvula. It did the trick.

One afternoon, I discovered a magic, glowing soda bottle in a dark alley. I think it was diet. Maybe a Red Bull? I knew it was magic because when I kicked it with my shoes, a voice said, Be careful! Huh?

The voice told me, Rub the bottle. I am a genie. I will grant you three wishes! I was confused. No, ill! First, I thought genies were trapped inside lamps. Also, I was hearing voices and seeing weird lights, which meant I ate too much ice cream. I wanted to walk away, but the voice said, I can give you a career! I will give you a good reputation! Your wish is my command!

How do I know you won't escape from the bottle and never help me? I've been burned out by too many Hollywood agents. Your business deal seems weird. What's in it for you? How come you aren't in a lamp? A soda bottle is a little tacky, and on top of that, generic energy soda, come on, I told him.

The genie replied, I am freed from my bottle when your third wish is granted. My original lamp was sold at Sotheby's, therefore, I was evicted into this diet orange soda bottle. Uh, yeah, Red Bull stuff. My name is Patrick.

I asked the genie another question, Patrick!? Aren't genies from Saudi Arabia?!

Patrick explained, Yea, I am from Saudi Arabia. I changed my name when I moved to the United States in 1897. Stop wasting time. Either you rub my lamp for three wishes, or you can go away. I rubbed the lamp.

A cloud of purple smoke appeared, then, whoosh, Patrick appeared beside me. I wish I lived in New York City. I am tired of my life in Hollywood. Give me a job as a news reporter. What is the of the television show in the morning? I want to work there! I told Patrick.

Within a second, I coughed as the smoke transported me in front of an audience.

Welcome to The Big Bad Wolf Morning News Show! I said automatically. The audience cheered. Everything was perfect until I ate a slice of cake during the cooking segment. When I showed my teeth, the audience ran away, horrified I was a real wolf.

You're fired, a man told me.

Thanks a lot! I yelled.

Patrick said, You were not specific. You asked me to give you a job. Your wish must be precise. Do you want to marry a beautiful princess?

I was upset. I told him, No! I am unemployed! I am a dumb wolf. Nobody likes me. I wish I were someone else! Oh, no! I made a wish. When the purple smoke dissolved, I saw that I was a pink rabbit.

Look at the baby bunny! She’s dancing! a girl said. I was a ballerina. This was awful. I ran off the stage. When I looked in the mirror, I cried.

A man told me, My dancers don't cry. You're fired!

I was a pink rabbit, and I was still hopelessly unemployed. In my reflection, I saw the genie behind me. I yelled, You are a horrible person! I did not mean what I said! Correct your mistake!

The genie made me a wolf again. I wish I had money, I said. The genie escaped from his bottle. I thought he had left for good.

There is a coin on the floor! Patrick said. He picked up the penny. Here you go, he said. "You can have the penny. You have money now! Well, it seems that your three wishes were granted. I gave you a free fourth wish when you wanted to become a wolf again. Have a good day. I'm off to buy a hamburger. I'm starving.

I was alone. I did not have any money in my pocket. The genie was going to buy himself lunch. I could not afford to buy one potato. I didn't have any friends. My parents disowned me. Nobody spoke to me after I was accused of murder. I did not have a place to live. I wished I had never met the genie. He made me believe in impossible dreams. The truth is, if it sounds too good to be true, it is. A quick fix doesn't exist.

I walked into a restaurant. I need a job, I said. I had tears in my eyes.

Then put on the apron and start scrubbing the dishes! the chef said. Before you can say hired, I was once again, you guessed it: fired. I broke a plate with my claw.

You're fired! the chef said. I was getting fired everywhere. How was I going to make money? I needed a sign. Then, I hit my head in a stop sign when I walked into it. Ouch!

Are you okay? My name is Dahlia, a flamingo asked me.

I was fired three times today, and a genie lied to me! I'm broke! I'm homeless! I have a bad reputation! People believe I murdered and ate three pigs! I am a vegetarian! I cannot afford to eat! I screamed.

Dahlia looked at me. You must have many talents. You should use your skills to make money, she told me. She explained, I heard a legend about a magic place. Money trees grow in the soil. I was looking for the magic garden when I saw you. Do you want to join me?

I asked Dahlia, How do we get there without a map?

She told me, We need to buy a snack. You look hungry. Next, we will follow the yellow brick road to a magic cavern where you will need to say a secret password.

Dahlia bought me crackers, pretzels, and peanuts from a man in the street. They were delicious. As we walked, we saw a man accidentally spill yellow paint on a brick path. We walked three feet on the brick until we reached a cave in the middle of Manhattan. The entrance was sealed by a big boulder.

The password is...burrito! Dahlia said. It didn't work. Open! she yelled. Nothing.

I began choking on my pretzel's sesame seeds. I wanted to tell her, but between coughs, all I could say was, Sesame!" I coughed about five seconds after it.

Dahlia jumped in delight. We opened it! The password was, wow, 'Open sesame!' Inside the cave, we discovered an underground forest. Instead of leaves, dollar bills grew on the plants. We were now rich!

Now what do I do? I asked.

We can buy pink shoes! she said.

I responded, No. I hated being a pink ballerina rabbit. She did not get it. Dahlia gave me a strange look. The genie made me into a rabbit, I told her. Moving on, I want to have a job. Not enough shoes in the world will make me happy if I am unemployed. I didn't understand the concept of money.

We will invest the money in the stock market! she told me. I didn't understand what she was saying. Remember, I had to deal with a stupid trial for a crime I didn't commit...for three years. I didn't have time to read the newspaper. We will read about important companies. Companies want everyone to participate in running their business. When you buy a stock, your opinion counts. You help the economy.

I heard you, flamingo, I said as I growled at her, but how do I make money?

When the company makes money, you own a small percentage of the company. You will make money when they earn it. We must read the newspaper to learn about successful industries. For example, if we see that the prices of corn are soaring, we should invest in a company that produces corn. We will earn more money as the prices of corn increase and more people buy corn. Do you understand the idea? she said.

We picked the money fruit from the trees in the secret garden. Next, we placed the money in a bank account. Both Dahlia and I researched news about famous companies. We invested in companies that deal with oil, computers, airplanes, and wheat. Soon, I began waking up early to watch the news about stock markets in Australia and Japan. When people heard about how much money I was earning in the stock market, people stopped me in the street for a conversation. Can you help us too? they asked. I did. I continue advising people on where to invest their money. It is my new job. I started my own financial advising business, and I love it! In a month, I was famous for positive reasons and ready for the next big chapter in my life.

Chapter 5

Aladdin und die Magische Soda-Flaschen-Lampe

  Was soll ich groß sagen. Vor ein paar Jahren war ich berüchtigt. Die Medien betitelten mich als den „großen bösen Wolf, als ich wegen dreifachen Mordes vor Gericht stand. Ich wurde fälschlich beschuldigt, drei Schweine getötet zu haben. Übrigens, mein voller Name ist Aladdin Todd Jackson – nur zur Information. Jeden Abend berichteten die Medien von meinen rechtlichen Problemen. Eine weibliche Moderatorin nannte mich gar einen „Wolf im Schafspelz. Was für ein Quatsch, ich trage ausschließlich Armani. Weil ich das Geld und das gute Aussehen hatte, wurde ich unfairerweise als Bösewicht dargestellt.

Der Richter beschloss, dass er nicht genug Beweise hatte, um mich zu verurteilen. Das einzige Beweismittel gegen mich war eine einzige Notiz, die lautete „,lch werde strampeln und trampeln, ich werde husten und prusten und euch euer Haus zusammenpusten, wenn ihr nicht morgen mein BBQ-Sandwich seid". Mein Anwalt legte meine Belege der letzten 6 Monate vor. Und? Habe ich es getan? Natürlich... Nicht! Mein Verteidiger bewies, dass ich nur in Vegetarischen Restaurants esse und ein Experte fand heraus, dass es nicht meine Handschrift war. Als ob ich so ein schmieriges Pulled Pork Sandwich essen würde. Ich esse meist bei 5-Sterne Italienern – meistens vegetarische Pasta... Aber schweife aus.

Mit meinem Ruf wieder intakt, überlegte ich die nächsten Schritte in meiner Karriere. Ursprünglich dachte ich, ich könnte durch’s berühmt sein berühmt werden. Ein Wolf muss schließlich auch über die Runden kommen. I veröffentlichte einen Song – meine eigene Version von „Hungry Like the Wolf, welche gefloppt ist, da Justin Bieber bereits sechs Monate zuvor seine eigene Version rausgebracht hatte. Dann, von allem was hätte passieren können, wurde mir nach einem Casting eine Filmrolle nicht gegeben, weil der Regisseur sagte „Sie sehen nicht wie ein Wolf aus.

„Aber ich bin ein Wolf", sagte ich und fletschte meine Zähne als Beweis. Das einzige, was ihm dazu einfiel, war, dass ich schreckliche Zähne habe.

Die Presse folgte mir auf Schritt und Tritt. Ich konnte nicht einmal einen Salat essen gehen, ohne fotografiert zu werden. Einmal, umzingelten mich die Paparazzi förmlich, als ich im Ivy gegessen hab. Ich konnte es mir nicht erlauben, irgendwo Wolf Reinigungsmittel zu kaufen. Kannst du dir vorstellen, wie peinlich es ist, in mit Eiswaffeln bedruckten Pyjama-Hosen abgelichtet zu werden? Paparazzi versteckten sich in den Büschen, bereit abzudrücken, sollte ich einmal ein Schwein mit einem Bissen verschlingen.

Die Illustrierten bauschten jede Nachricht über alle Proportionen auf. Als ich einmal ein schlechtes Essen serviert bekam, nannte ich den unfreundlichen Kellner ein „Schwein. Er verkaufte natürlich seine Story an einen Reporter, der nachher schrieb: „Der große böse Wolf hasst Schweine. Nein, das tue ich nicht. Ich hasse Männer, die sich wie solche aufführen. Es dauerte nicht lang, bis mich eine britische Illustrierte bezichtigte, „in Essex ein Schwein verschlungen" zu haben. Ich konnte der schlechten Presse einfach nicht entkommen. War ich wirklich für eine Karriere im Showbiz geschaffen? Ich schmiss mein ganzes Geld für Gerichtskosten raus und war verzweifelt.

Von Depressionen geplagt, verbrachte ich meine Tage damit, bei Castings abgelehnt zu werden, Surfen und Shopping mit dem Geld dass ich in meiner Zeit am Rodeo Drive noch hatte... Bis sich die Schulden bis zur Decke angehäuft haben. Als die Gerichtsvollzieher anfingen, mich zu belästigen, weil ich meine Kreditkartenabrechnungen nicht bezahlt habe, riss ich einfach meinen Mund so weit auf, dass man den Kehlkopf sehen konnte. Das hat geholfen.

Eines Nachmittags fand ich eine magische, leuchtende Soda-Flasche in einer dunklen Gasse. Ich glaube, sie war zuckerfrei, vielleicht Red Bull? Ich wusste, dass sie magisch sein muss, da, als ich sie umtrat, ich eine Stimme hörte, die sagte: „Sei vorsichtig!" Hä?

Die Stimme sprach zu mir: „Reib die Flasche, ich bin ein Genie und werde dir drei Wünsche erfüllen! Ich war erst einmal verwirrt. Ich dachte, dass Genies nur in Lampen gefangen sein können. Zudem hörte ich Stimmen und sah merkwürdige Lichter, was definitiv darauf zurückzuführen war, dass ich zu viel Eiscreme gegessen habe. Als ich gehen wollte, sprach die Stimme: „Ich kann dir eine Karriere verschaffen! Ich werde dir einen guten Ruf geben! Dein Wunsch ist mir Befehl!

„Woher weiß ich, dass du nicht einfach aus der Flasche fliehst und mir niemals helfen wirst? Ich wurde schon von so vielen Casting Agenten verbrannt, dass sich dein Deal etwas merkwürdig anhört. Was hast du davon? Warum steckst du nicht in einer Lampe? Eine Soda Flasche ist schon ziemlich lächerlich, und dann auch noch irgend so ein No-Name Energy Drink. Komm schon!", sagte ich ihm.

Der Genie antwortete: „Ich bin erst dann frei, wenn dein dritter Wunsch erfüllt ist. Meine eigentliche Lampe wurde bei Sotheby’s verkauft. Da musste ich in diese Zuckerfreie Orangenlimonaden-Flasche umziehen... Äh, ah ja, dieses Red Bull Zeugs. Mein Name ist übrigens Patrick."

„Patrick?! Kommen Genies nicht aus Saudi-Arabien?", fragte ich. Patrick begann zu erklären: „Ja,