Nick Hunter
I have reached Yuki nirvana
(This parody seems to be from some Russian blog. When we were given pieces of writing during the translation test, I got this and I had a very merry time reading and translating it. I've never read the actual works of some writers below, so I hope the style isn't too offtrack. 
)
RED RIDING HOOD
Edgar Poe
On the edge of an old thick forest, that was wrapped in glum, stiff haze of mystery, wafting dark clouds of ominous miasma and ghostly chink of chains, Red Riding Hood lived with her almost mystical fears.
Ernest Hemmingway
Mother came in and put a basket on the table. There was some milk, white bread and eggs.
“Here”, said mother.
“What?” asked Red Riding Hood.
“This”, said mother, “Go bring it to your grandma”
“OK”, replied Red Riding Hood.
“Be careful there”, said mother, “The wolf”
“Sure”
Mother watched her daughter leaving, her daughter called Red Riding Hood, because she always wore a red riding hood around. Then she went outside and kept following the girl with her eyes, thinking how unwise it was now to let her go to the forest alone; with this came the recollection of the wolf rumored to have reappeared there, and it was then that she felt nervous.
Guy de Maupassant
The wolf met her. He gave her a look-over, the one of an experienced Parisian profligate scrutinizing a provincial lass that still retains a thorough air of innocence; yet he doesn’t give this innocence a bit more credit than she herself would, and he can literally see her stripping off one skirt after another until just a shirt remains, revealing every voluptuous curve of her body.
Victor Hugo
Red Riding Hood was trembling. She was alone. Completely alone. Like a needle in the desert. Like a grain of sand among the stars. Like a gladiator against venomous serpents. Like a somnambulant in the furnace…
Jack London
But she was a true daughter of her race, and she had the blood of the white conquerors of the North running in her veins. With no hesitation, she charged at the wolf, dealing him a crushing blow, adding a perfectly classic uppercut. The wolf fled in terror, and she just gave him a charming feminine smile.
Jaroslav Hašek
“Holy cow, and what have I done?” the wolf muttered, “I’ve really soiled myself, in the end”.
Honore de Balzac
The wolf reached the grandmother’s house and knocked on the door. The door was obviously a handiwork of the mid-XVII century. An unknown artisan carved it from Canadian oak, fashionable in those days, adorned it with a classical form and put it on the hinges which had had seen their days, inarguably good ones, and were creaking all the time. The door itself had no patterns and ornaments but a mark in the right bottom corner, the mark that Celesten de Shaward was claimed to have left with one of his spurs – the Celesten de Shaward who had used to be a favourite at Maria Antoinette’s court and at the same time was, in fact, a maternal cousin to the grandfather of Red Riding Hood’s grandmother. Otherwise this door was quite mundane, and indeed it couldn’t possibly evoke a bit of interest.
Oscar Wilde
Wolf. Excuse me, I don’t suppose you know my name, but…
Grandma. Oh, that’s not important. In modern society, only those who don’t have a name to take pride in give any significance to it. So may I serve you?
Wolf. Well, you see… Deeply sorry as I find myself to do that, I’m here to eat you.
Grandma. How nice. You’re such a witty gentleman.
Wolf.But I’m being serious.
Grandma. Which only adds charm to your wit.
Wolf. I’m glad you don’t take to heart the news I’ve just told you.
Grandma. You can’t take to heart all serious things nowadays, it’s bad taste.
Wolf. But what should we take to heart, then?
Grandma. All silly things, of course. But you’re becoming rather intolerable.
Wolf. How can a Wolf be intolerable?
Grandma. By asking too many questions, I’d say.
Wolf. And a woman?
Grandma. A woman, too, if there’s no one to put her in her place.
Wolf. You seem very self-exigent.
Grandma. Well, I trust your modesty.
Wolf. Word of a gentleman, I’ll keep it all between us. (eats her)
Grandma. (from inside the Wolf) Too bad you were in such a hurry. I was going to tell you a very hortative story.
Erich Maria Remark
“Come here”, said the Wolf.
Red Riding Hood filled two glasses of cognac and sat down on his bed. They inhaled the familiar scent of cognac. This cognac scent contained melancholy and fatigue, the melancholy and fatigue of fading twilight. This cognac scent was the scent of life.
“Of course”, she said, “There is no hope. I have no future.”
The wolf silently agreed with her.
)RED RIDING HOOD
Edgar Poe
On the edge of an old thick forest, that was wrapped in glum, stiff haze of mystery, wafting dark clouds of ominous miasma and ghostly chink of chains, Red Riding Hood lived with her almost mystical fears.
Ernest Hemmingway
Mother came in and put a basket on the table. There was some milk, white bread and eggs.
“Here”, said mother.
“What?” asked Red Riding Hood.
“This”, said mother, “Go bring it to your grandma”
“OK”, replied Red Riding Hood.
“Be careful there”, said mother, “The wolf”
“Sure”
Mother watched her daughter leaving, her daughter called Red Riding Hood, because she always wore a red riding hood around. Then she went outside and kept following the girl with her eyes, thinking how unwise it was now to let her go to the forest alone; with this came the recollection of the wolf rumored to have reappeared there, and it was then that she felt nervous.
Guy de Maupassant
The wolf met her. He gave her a look-over, the one of an experienced Parisian profligate scrutinizing a provincial lass that still retains a thorough air of innocence; yet he doesn’t give this innocence a bit more credit than she herself would, and he can literally see her stripping off one skirt after another until just a shirt remains, revealing every voluptuous curve of her body.
Victor Hugo
Red Riding Hood was trembling. She was alone. Completely alone. Like a needle in the desert. Like a grain of sand among the stars. Like a gladiator against venomous serpents. Like a somnambulant in the furnace…
Jack London
But she was a true daughter of her race, and she had the blood of the white conquerors of the North running in her veins. With no hesitation, she charged at the wolf, dealing him a crushing blow, adding a perfectly classic uppercut. The wolf fled in terror, and she just gave him a charming feminine smile.
Jaroslav Hašek
“Holy cow, and what have I done?” the wolf muttered, “I’ve really soiled myself, in the end”.
Honore de Balzac
The wolf reached the grandmother’s house and knocked on the door. The door was obviously a handiwork of the mid-XVII century. An unknown artisan carved it from Canadian oak, fashionable in those days, adorned it with a classical form and put it on the hinges which had had seen their days, inarguably good ones, and were creaking all the time. The door itself had no patterns and ornaments but a mark in the right bottom corner, the mark that Celesten de Shaward was claimed to have left with one of his spurs – the Celesten de Shaward who had used to be a favourite at Maria Antoinette’s court and at the same time was, in fact, a maternal cousin to the grandfather of Red Riding Hood’s grandmother. Otherwise this door was quite mundane, and indeed it couldn’t possibly evoke a bit of interest.
Oscar Wilde
Wolf. Excuse me, I don’t suppose you know my name, but…
Grandma. Oh, that’s not important. In modern society, only those who don’t have a name to take pride in give any significance to it. So may I serve you?
Wolf. Well, you see… Deeply sorry as I find myself to do that, I’m here to eat you.
Grandma. How nice. You’re such a witty gentleman.
Wolf.But I’m being serious.
Grandma. Which only adds charm to your wit.
Wolf. I’m glad you don’t take to heart the news I’ve just told you.
Grandma. You can’t take to heart all serious things nowadays, it’s bad taste.
Wolf. But what should we take to heart, then?
Grandma. All silly things, of course. But you’re becoming rather intolerable.
Wolf. How can a Wolf be intolerable?
Grandma. By asking too many questions, I’d say.
Wolf. And a woman?
Grandma. A woman, too, if there’s no one to put her in her place.
Wolf. You seem very self-exigent.
Grandma. Well, I trust your modesty.
Wolf. Word of a gentleman, I’ll keep it all between us. (eats her)
Grandma. (from inside the Wolf) Too bad you were in such a hurry. I was going to tell you a very hortative story.
Erich Maria Remark
“Come here”, said the Wolf.
Red Riding Hood filled two glasses of cognac and sat down on his bed. They inhaled the familiar scent of cognac. This cognac scent contained melancholy and fatigue, the melancholy and fatigue of fading twilight. This cognac scent was the scent of life.
“Of course”, she said, “There is no hope. I have no future.”
The wolf silently agreed with her.
