A phone call from one mob guy to another sets the stage for Little Red Riding Hood's journey into physically insulting decadence.

She's lashed to a Xerox machine (there's a first) whereby copies are made of her face – isn't that usually supposed to be her ass? She's also ball-gagged, forced to wear a gas mask, cramped in a shopping cart, an open convertible and lashed to a warehouse dolly truck.

Hey, you piss off the mob, what do you expect? Unusual fare that demands to be seen.