Three Pigs, A Wolf, and A Great Wind

You gotta admit, Three Pigs ain’t exactly the prettiest characters for a story.

Not like Snow White, Cinderella, or that lady that kept falling asleep - Sleeping Beauty. But hey, not every story is perfect. Not everyone has a happy ending either.

I’m telling you this story because it’s the one my old man used to tell me when I was a kid. Every night a story, not the same one, he mixed things up. But this one was my favorite. Don’t ask me why.

I’d be there in bed, wrapped in a blanket that my grandmother knitted - God bless her soul - and my dad would sit in his chair, crush out his cigarette, look around the room like he was trying to find inspiration or something, and then smile.

He smiled a lot, my dad. A big smile that was special. It had power you know. Made me think he could do anything. Beat anybody that got in his way. He was tough, but not to me.

“You ready, Mikey?” He would ask.

“I was born ready, Dad.”

“That’s my boy.”

And so, he began. In his Brooklyn accent, which came out when things were quiet and we were alone. His version of the three little pigs.

Okay, so this story begins a long time ago. I mean, it has to, right? Who writes about talking pigs these days? Anyway, it started, like most stories, at the beginning.

There was this mother pig. I don’t remember her name, maybe she had one, maybe she didn’t. But she was a good ole sow, friendly, keen to please, happy most days, and very astute. That means she was nobody’s fool.

Anyways, she met another pig from another farm and they got friendly and things being the way they are, she soon had a litter of six piglets a few months later. This story is about three of them.

These three had names. Joe was the oldest and smartest. Then Donald, not so smart, a little short on the grey cells but a likable guy, you know what I mean. And last came George. A little small for his age, and wiry, but he had moxie.

Anyway, things were tough for mom and dad food-wise and so when the piglets were old enough, she packed them each a little sack of leftovers and told them, to be good, take care of each other, and for God’s sake don’t get eaten. Now, get out of here and don’t forget to write.

Joe being the natural leader took off down the road humming a song and thinking thoughts that only pigs think and had this idea.

He remembered listening to stories his dad used to tell him and his brothers and sisters, about all the places he’d been, the people he had met, and how one day he came across this meadow that nobody owned.

It was a nice quiet place, out of the way, that he used to take Mom to, that was right next to a great pond. It had plenty of grass and bugs to eat.

So, Joe thought - location, location, location and headed toward the pond with Donald and George in tow.

It was a nice day, so the walk was pleasant enough but all along Joe had this uneasy feeling that something was wrong.

Like someone was watching him, waiting to pounce on any mistake he made.

So, Joe, ever the smart cookie, started to jog to see if that feeling followed him. Then he began to run and soon enough, all three pigs were racing down the road like their tails were on fire.

And they ran and ran and then ran some more until Joe stopped suddenly.

Now Donald, not paying attention and thinking only his own thoughts, barreled into George sending both of them to the ground in a great cloud of dust.

Joe looked back and shook his head.

He had other things on his mind, Mikey. Important things. So, the moral here is to stay focused.

They were finally at the place that their father had told them about. The pond was big and beautiful. It even had a family of beavers living there which was great. Beavers were always good for the neighborhood.

And the grass, Christ it was everywhere. Tons of it. And bugs, well, you couldn’t take three steps without one practically begging to fly into your mouth.

It was the place, Joe thought. To build and grow and make something of themselves. So, he turned back to his brothers and told them his plan.

In no time Donald’s eyes glazed over as Joe explained what they needed to do.

“I don’t get it,” he moaned.

Joe looked at his younger brother and shook his head. “We each need to build a home so we can live in them.”

“Why?” asked George.

“Because there’s no mom or dad to support us and no barn to live in. Did you ever hear of pigs living in a burrow or up a tree? Or maybe in the pond with the beavers?”

Donald and George thought about this long and hard but finally had to admit, that no, that wouldn’t work.

“So,” Joe continued, “where else are we going to live and sleep and when we get married and do, you know what mom and dad did, we’ll need a place to raise a family. That’s why we need a house.”

Donald finally got the idea and liked it. George looked at Joe and Donald and though still not sure what he’d have to do, smiled and said, okay.

“So, we’re good? Joe asked”

They nodded.

Donald moved away from the others and walked toward the pond. He saw the beavers swimming and working and swimming some more and working some more and all of that made him very tired and irritated.

So, he sat down by the edge of the pond, hands behind his head, and started to dream.

Now, it was a pig’s dream, so there was fast food and mud and lots of playing in it, and eventually, Donald stirred, open his eyes, and had a great idea.

He would make his home of twigs and branches.

Donald proceeded to get up on a tree stump and called out to the beavers.

Using a long stick, he sketched out his plan to all of them. He told them that this was a long-term investment.

That the beavers would initially help him build a house of branches and twigs, something they were very familiar with, and in payment for their services, he would issue municipal bonds that would yield a 15% return on their hard work.

Also, in addition to his home, they would also build a club, the Porker’s Palace, and would receive a 20% share of all profits made from poker and entertainment there.

It took a while for Donald to explain what municipal bonds were and how profit sharing would benefit the beavers, but in the end, they agreed.

Donald shook hands with the beavers and began to build his dream home made of twigs and branches.

Now Donald was no Frank Lloyd Wright and the beavers, well they did things their way, so the house was kind of simple - it was made of straw and twigs so how fancy could it be, right?

And soon enough it was done.

He stood in front of his house, arms on his hips, and thought - I did this.

****

While Donald was busy building his house of twigs and branches, an idea that George swore his brother had stolen from him, George found himself with a problem.

He had already eaten all the food his mother had packed for him and he was now pretty hungry. He was also tired from running and his head hurt from too much thinking, so he looked around, saw what he needed, and with a little determination and mud, he built his house out of straw.

It was, all things considered, a nice house. Plain, not inspired, and not all that strong but hey, it was a nice neighborhood, so there shouldn’t be any problems, right?

Now Joe, being the oldest and brightest and having read discarded copies of Architectural Digest and Popular Mechanics that the farmers had thrown away, had a better idea for a house. His would be made of fired bricks.

Now Mikey, don’t spend too much time thinking, hey where did he get the bricks from, okay? It’s a bedtime story, just enjoy it.

So, Joe fashioned himself a right fine house made of fired brick that had a bedroom, a kitchen, a big fireplace, a bathroom, and a big walk-in closet. Joe wasn’t quite sure why he needed this, but the magazines made a point that extra storage room was needed, and in it went.

All three houses faced each other so each pig could look out a front window and see their brothers. It was practically perfect in every way.

The three pigs gathered up some food and ate a communal dinner, singing songs, talking about their home and parents, and wondering if the neighborhood had cable television.

All the while, a wily old wolf had been stalking the three pigs, biding his time and thinking of roast pig for breakfast.

The three pigs said goodnight and all went to their homes to sleep.

****

The first thing the next morning as the sun rose, the birds came out singing and the beavers finished their Tai Chi exercise, the wolf crept slowly up to George’s house and cased the joint carefully.

Thinking - Straw, I can handle this.

So, the wolf knocked on George’s front door and shouted: Little pig, little pig, let me in!

Now, George wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box but he could see who was at his door and there was no way that this guy was a salesman.

So, George thought for a moment and then shouted back - No, No I won’t let you in. Not by the hairs of my chinny chin chin.

The wolf was a little confused by George’s response and thought about it, but not for too long.

“Okay then,” the wolf finally said, “I will huff and I will puff and I will blow your house down.

And he did.

Now George thought his house was being hit by a great hurricane and down it went.

Afraid he had misunderestimated the strength of his house, he barely escaped alive and ran to his brother Donald’s House.

You see, Donald had been watching the wolf at his brother’s door and thought of running back home but he had forgotten the way and then decided he wasn’t leaving now, no matter what.

So, he let George in, and together they waited for the wolf.

The two brothers held each other as the wolf made his way to the house of twigs and branches and again knocked on the door. And once again, he repeated - “Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!”

Both Donald and George cried out, “No, no we won’t let you in. Not by the hairs of our chinny chin chins!”

Once again, the wolf scratched his head, a little pissed off now that breakfast was taking so long, and shouted, “Right, then I’ll huff and I’ll puff, etc., etc.," and he did just that, and down came the house of twigs and branches.

Once again, he scrambled through the wreckage, mouth wide open and ready to bite, but this time both pigs got away and ran to Joe’s house and hid inside.

The three brothers knew the wolf wasn’t about to give up and soon enough, the wolf was at Joe’s door knocking and shouting - little pigs, little pigs, let me in!

Donald and George began shouting - No, no we won’t let you in …”

But Joe shut that down and told them he had a plan.

Joe grabbed a pen and paper and wrote out a note and convinced George to climb out the back window and take it to the beavers.

“What?!” George shouted when he heard Joe’s plan. “That’s pretty dangerous.”

Joe talked quickly and George finally agreed and out the back window he went.

Donald saw the look in Joe’s eyes and knew he was next.

He started to leave, saying he had an appointment with a lender for a kitchen remodel, when Joe shook his head and said, "Listen up, this is a matter of life and death.”

Joe explained what Donald had to do and as the color drained from his brother’s face, Joe encouraged Donald to take heart and have faith.

Donald started to say, he had neither, but finally agreed, and out the back window he went as well.

With his plan in motion, Joe stuck his head out the window and shouted …

Now, Mikey, Joe used some words to get the wolf angry and distracted that I’m not going to repeat here. Because they don’t belong in a fairy tale.

So, as before, the wolf huffed and puffed and puffed and huffed and did it over and over again until he was about to pass out. The house of brick did not move.

The wolf by this time was angry and hungry and raged about, while the beavers next door watched and thought that their neighborhood was going to hell.

But soon enough there was a great racket being made that got the wolf’s attention. Out there by the pond was Donald, waving his arms and taunting the wolf, telling him what a fool he was and that he was in charge and would kick his ass.

The wolf saw Donald by himself, thought of his empty stomach, and ran after him.

As the wolf drew closer to the pig, who had his eyes closed and was whispering a prayer, there came a mighty crashing sound, followed by another and then another.

As the tall trees fell on either side of the wolf, he soon found himself trapped inside and unable to get out. The beavers gathered around the helpless wolf and high-fived each other.

With the beaver’s help, a cage was built and the wolf was placed inside it, making it safe for everyone at the pond.

The word was gotten out to a hunter who came and collected the wolf.

Joe convinced Donald to renegotiate his agreement with the beavers so it was fair and together with their new neighbors, built two new homes for the brothers.

Soon after the wolf was taken away, the pond returned to its normal quiet and peaceful self. The beavers were happy and busy building a second dam to house some relatives who had come to visit.

Joe created an alliance with his neighbors to share what they produced and provide protection for everyone.

Donald rewrote his agreement with the beavers as Joe had requested but quietly recruited the squirrels, birds, and other fauna to invest in his new condo project with waterfront views.

And George, well George was quite happy with his new home. Took up painting as a hobby. Found a nice sow and got married.

****

I guess you can see why I liked this story when I was younger. It wasn’t perfect. Not everyone was happy at the end, especially the wolf. But enough people were and that’s what really mattered.

My dad kept telling stories until I was a little older and then they stopped. I missed them, miss my dad too.

He moved to Florida and bought a condo by the ocean and has had nothing but problems. But he’s still happy and smiling and figures, Florida will eventually figure things out.

The End