Pigs, little pigs, just the sound of the name made my mouth water. Bacon, juicy bacon, made my taste buds jump with delight. I'd always invite the wolf pack over for the feast I would prepare, a festival of crispy bacon, sliced juicy ham, pork roast, spicy sausages, and pigs ears. We would all be so full we couldn't even stomach the pig pot pie I made for dessert. Pigs were my life. I ate them, smelt them, chased them, breathed them, and dreamed about them, heck, I was even jealous of them. I'm living in a hole in the floor of the forest while they live in these neat, tidy, separate little two story piggy houses. These kingdoms are made of brick, straw, sticks, you name it. They even have their own grotesque names hanging above their doorway. Since when have pigs become treated like royalty? They are good for nothing I tell you, only for the satisfaction of an empty stomach.
So why now do I speak of them with such negativity? Why now do I never want to see, taste, cook, dream, or hear of their name again? Why oh why does the wolf pack now laugh and snarl at me as they see me walking around the forest like some wandering idiot with my tail between my legs and head down in shame? If you really want to know, here is my story.
It was a cool, breezy day in autumn. The leaves were just beginning to turn their bright orange and yellow colors. The birds that sang their songs and chirped quietly in the lovely spring and summer afternoons were becoming much fainter by the day as they began the long journey south for the harsh winter to come. That day, my mind was only on one thing. Bacon bits. My stomach was begging me for some. The wolf pack was out hunting that day, and it wasn't for pigs, unfortunatly. So I decided not to go with them. I just stayed at home and thought about what scrumptious feast I would make when I invited them over for dinner that evening. I went into my dirty, smelly, un-inviting home in the ground to search for the bits. There was none. Nor were there any pigs ears, ham, or roasts left. All the cupboards were completely deserted without a trace of pig in them. Even the smell of grease that wafted through my house everyday had dissapeared. "Oh my god, what am I going to do?" I thought. I had no inclination of when the pack would be back, nor did they even bother to tell me. So I just sat there and thought. I thought and I thought and I thought some more. Then an idea came to me. "No," I said to myself. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever thought up in the past 15 years I've been roaming this forest. I couldn't possibly go pay a little visit to the land of the pigs, pluck them from their shining castles, and cook them in my evening stew alone. Could I?" I am the oldest, scrawniest, and ugliest wolf in the pack. Without them, I would never be able to catch the little pests and plop them into my lovely stews. Grrrrrrrrr. There goes my greedy stomach again. If you knew me as well as my stomach does then you would most certainly know that I can't ignore it when it's empty. I knew what I had to do.
Before I left my humble abode, I rechecked the cupboards, and memorized everything that I needed for that evening and the next couple of weeks. Now, it was time to go piggy shopping.
I am so grateful that the location of my home is not far from the farms that are just on the outskirts of the forest because I can't handle taking long trips, especially the ones the pack and I take. I'm getting to old for this. As I was walking through the quiet, peaceful wood, I began to develop a wonderful scene in my head. I am creeping up towards the little pigs houses, snatching the bacon of my choice, tying them together by their hooves, and dragging them back to my paradise. In which by that time the wolf pack would be returning from their hunt and making their way to my house. Upon their arrival I escort them down into my chambers. Once again the air is filled with that familiar sweet aroma of grease. Their greedy eyes bulge out of their skulls as they circle the table that is covered with everything pig. They are so amazed at me having hunted on my own, that they lift me above their heads with their paws, parade me all the way outside, and give me three cheers of victory. The little critters of the forest scramble out of their homes to see what all the ruckus is. When they hear the glorious news, they jump for joy. The birds chirp their songs, the squirrels from their home in the trees throw down their nuts like confetti...WHACK! Before I know it, I've walked right into a tree which tore me away from my thoughts. I hear a cracking sound as if the tree might crack, but it may have just been my skull. I sit there for a few moments, in a dizzy state, seeing what looks like pigs circling above my head, and I rub my forehead. I then hear a rustling sound in the grass and see a chipmunk poke it's scruffy head through it. It is looking just above my head and it's eyes are traveling down what looks to be in slow motion when...Plop! Plop! Plop! Three large red apples, all in a row, bounce off my head and roll on the ground beside me. The chipmunk, thinking this is amusing, points at me, and begins to chatter in laughter, making me even more furious. I bare my teeth, growl a deep growl, and swipe at the little weasel. The chipmunk leaps up in the air and scrambles away through the blades of grass in terror.
After I have shaken my head and regained my composure, I look to my right and realize that I have made it to the land of the pigs. Before I make my way over, I survey the land. "My god, they've multiplied!" There are even more castles now than the last time I was here. As my eyes scanned everything, I noticed three little piggy houses, about fifteen feet apart from each other. And what do you know? They were made of stick, brick, and straw. "Perfect" I thought, it's within walking distance. Just before I move along, I check to make sure none of those vicious farmers and their noisy wives are in sight. On the tips of my toes, I creep along, hidden behind the shrubs on the outskirts of the farms. In about five minutes, I made it to the first piggy house and it was made of straw. Oh and how grand it was. It was made of the finest straw I had ever seen. It was smooth and shiny, smoke was coming up from the chimney, and the little house was about as high as my waist, if I was standing up. Grrrrrrrrr. My stomach was caving in by now. I had to act fast!
I looked over to my left and saw the farmers house just thirty feet away. I had to be careful. I strolled up to the little straw house and peeked through the window. What a sight I saw! The roundest, liveliest, plumpest pig I had ever seen was roaming around the kitchen and looking through the cupboards. I quickly looked away and tried to think of a way to just kindly lure the pig out of its cozy little home. But oh boy, my stomach was not ready to be that kind. Without thinking, I blurted out, "Little pig, little pig, let me come in, or I'll blow your kingdom down!" At first, there was no reply. Then suddenly the pig shouted back, "I saw you through the window you big bad wolf, and there's no way you'll get inside my home, no sir-ee, not by the hair of my chiney, chin,chin!" I was mad, I was starving, and worst of all I had a pulse pounding headache. I was not going to let porky pig tell me what to do. I then took two giant steps back. I huffed and I puffed, I even flexed, and I blew as hard as I could. But that didn't work out so well. Suddenly I began to cough, sputter, and wheeze. I heard the pig start laughing really loud.
"What's the matter Mr.Wolf, you gettin' a cold or something?"
It began to laugh even harder. As I finished coughing, I realized that I couldn't even blow a puny little house down. My lungs were in terrible shape. I had to think of a different way in. I studied the house for a moment, when an idea came to me. I wrapped both of my long hairy arms around both sides of the house and began lifting it up off the ground. I flipped the house upside down and began shaking it up and down furiously. I could hear porky squealing in fright and I could feel it rolling around inside. Just as my arms were getting extremely sore, I heard the door burst open from underneath the house. I looked down and saw the pig hit the ground, landing on its fat stomach. The pig leaped up so fast that I barely had time to stop shaking the house and toss it over my shoulder. After I did this I ran as fast as I could towards the pig. I could barely get close enough to it. Was this pig in the Olympics or something? I thought breathlessly. I could now see that we were nearing the second pig's house, the stick house. The pig was now running on its hind legs with its arms outstretched in front of it. It looked behind itself and its eyes bulged out of their sockets. Then it squealed that annoying high pitched squeal that I hate so much and ran even faster. Just before we reached the side of the house, the pig veered off to the right so suddenly that I didn't have time to stop. I ran head first into the side of the stick house. I hit it so hard that the force sent me flying backwards onto my back while the little sucker fled into the safety of the home of its fellow friend. I must have blacked out for a few agonizing moments because I couldn't see a thing. It was as if the sky had suddenly turned black. The delicious scent coming from the chimney of the second pig's house wafted through my nose which made me come to. I slowly stood up. My head hurt so bad, it felt as if I had just come out of a head butting match with an extremely angry mountain sheep. I eventually made my way around to the front of the little pig's house. The sticks of the house were absolutely, ridiculously put together with the most accurate precision I've ever seen. It looked as if the little pig had devoted every second of its meddling life to build this castle, making sure every stick was perfectly aligned on top of each other. Hmmmmmm, maybe they are intelligent after all... Anyways, okay. So once again I took a little peek through the open window and saw no sign of the pigs. Where were they? Well, I guess the only way I could get through to them would be to repeat those famous words. "Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in, or I'll blow your kingdom down!" No answer and still no sign of them. Well, if they don't want to come out, then I will just have to make them. I knew I couldn't actually blow it down and the window looked big enough for me to fit through. So I stuck my head in first. Then I began to squeeze my scrawny little body through the window. And that's about as far as I got. "Oh no, just my luck, I'm stuck. This is so not my day!" I shouted to no one in particular. Or so I thought. I hadn't noticed the two little slime balls creeping across the floor of the dining room, carrying an oversized frying pan that I swear was bigger than their heads, and I bet you can't guess who it was going to be tested on. Seen as how I hadn't noticed them, I now tried to push myself backwards and forwards but it wasn't working. I saw the leg of the dining room table just within reach of my extremely long arms. So I grabbed onto it and tried to pull myself through using that. I was pulling so hard that I had my eyes shut tight. That's when the little runts struck. Well, struck me on the paws with that large pan that is. My eyes flew open so fast I didn't even blink or think. "Yeeeooowww!" I screamed. I had never moved so fast in my life. I shot right out through that window, began sobbing like a baby, and started shaking my paws vigorously, as if something was clinging to them. As I was spinning in circles and making a humongous fool of myself, the two pigs ran out the door, turned to face me and squealed. "You can't catch us, no sir-ee, not by the hair of our chiney, chin, chins." And with that, they ran full speed to the third piggy's house, the brick house. I just wanted to give up right then and there. But I only had one house to go. I was not going to go home empty handed and I was not going to give the pig's the satisfaction of outsmarting me. So, with my head on the verge of splitting open, I slowly waddled over to the brick house.
All the while, as I was going door to door shopping, I didn't even sense the lone pair of watchful eyes observing me from the window of the farmer's house. Farmer Joes shotgun was fully loaded in his white knuckled tight grip, and he was waiting for the right moment to release the flaming bullet.
As I was being watched, I tiptoed up to the door and without hesitation, I screamed, "Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in, or I'll blow your kingdom down!" To my amazement, I got an answer right away. "Not by the hair of our chiney, chin, chins!" That was the last straw. I strolled up to the door, gathered all the strength I had left, and kicked the door down. The door flew off of it's hinges, skidded across the floor, and stopped right in front of the three little pigs who now had those pudgy, happy looks wiped right off their face. Ah ha! At last I had these little suckers cornered. My sharp teeth were sticking out of my mouth and my claws were razor sharp. I must admit, I think I looked pretty scary. The three pigs just huddled in a corner shaking like leaves. I was so close now, I could almost touch them. But I never made it. At that moment, I heard the sound that many wolves fear, the sound of a shotgun going off. Right then I knew that bullet was aimed for me, and where it would hit I could only imagine. Next thing I knew, the bullet had buried itself into the depths of my bum. Oh my god! I got shot in the bum! Pain, pain you couldn't even begin to imagine shot through my whole body. I hadn't felt that much pain since the time I sat on a porcupine.
The pigs now had that sweet look of victory on their faces as I placed both paws on my but and ran for my miserable life out the door. I didn't know where I was running to, but I knew I had to get out of there as soon as possible. Tears were streaming down my furry face as I saw my house making it's way into my view. The next thing I saw was the wolf pack coming up over the hill. They were back from their trip! "Oh my god," I thought, "How embarassing!" I scurried as quick as I could move towards the hole, but I wasn't fast enough.
"Hey, where have you been!" shouted one of the wolves.
I didn't even answer. I just turned around and started making my way down into my hole.
"Hey you guys, looks as if the old timer has been shot in the bum!" shouted another.
All I could hear was another uproar of laughter.
"What have you been doing, chasing pigs on your own?" asked the head of the wolf pack.
The sad thing was, they were right on the money. Once again I didn't respond. I just sauntered away down into my lonely hole in a crying shame.
If it wasn't for my foolishness and my greedy stomach, I wouldn't be sitting here with empty cupboards, an empty stomach, no stew for dinner, a bullet in my bum, and ridicule from the pack for years to come. All everyone will hear now is the re-telling of the story about how an old, greedy wolf went out on it's own hunting for pigs, got shot in the but in the process, and failed miserably to catch the three little pigs.