Kiba, Hige, Tsume, Tooboe, and Cheza do not belong to me.
Once upon a time, there lived four, little wolves: noble Kiba, hungry Hige, crotchety Tsume, and the lovable Tooboe. They were all sad, little wolves, however, for their circumstances were quite desperate. Human encroachment had devastated their natural habitat, leaving the four, little wolves with nowhere to go. So, one day, Kiba (who was the unsuspected and often reluctant leader of the four wolves) uncurled himself and thought how fine it would be if there existed a place where men never came, where wolves were free to skip and play and rear their litters as they saw fit. So he and his four companions set out in search of such a place, a place called Paradise. Alongside the four, little wolves was the violet-tressed Cheza. Now, Cheza was a rather sweet-smelling flower girl that had agreed to take Kiba and his friends to Paradise.
Yet the road to Paradise was fraught with peril and on their journey the four, little wolves and the vermilion-eyed Cheza faced many dangers, including giant insects, disgruntled aristocracy, armed men, and ill-tempered wolves. But, with these obstacles now past, the five friends were all the more happy, for they were that much closer to Paradise.
Now, the ivory-skinned Cheza was a rather delicate creature and, one day, as the sun with its life-giving rays began to sink toward the western horizon, she began to tire.
"This one grows weary," she said softly. "Might we rest a while, Kiba?"
Now, the red-lipped Cheza had the big, white wolf wrapped around her little, pinkie finger and she knew it. For Kiba would have gladly gone to hell and back with Cerberus in tow had the girl only asked.
Therefore, nodding to his companions, he said, "Very well, let's bed down for the night."
And so, as the four, little wolves and the linen-clothed Cheza journeyed through emerald meadows, nut-brown copses, across deep, dark valleys, and over shining mountaintops, they came upon a charming little house made of straw.
The little hut looked so inviting that Kiba said, "Well, this looks suitable enough."
"It sure looks nice and cozy," Tooboe added cheerfully.
"Perhaps there's some food inside," Hige replied hungrily.
"Well, it certainly doesn't smell dangerous," Tsume concluded gruffly.
Therefore, the four, little wolves and the light-stepping Cheza entered the small cottage and bedded down for the night. The five friends, however, were quite oblivious to the impending danger. For out of the wood which flanked the tiny hut, stepped the vilest, most uncouth pig to ever set hoof to earth. In those parts, he was known as the Big, Bad Pig and his title wasn't merely for compliment's sake. He was lean and dangerous, his tiny, bloodshot eyes set far back in his loathsome head. His back was covered in red bristles and out of his mouth protruded long, wicked tusks.
He swaggered right up to the little straw house and boomed, "Little wolves, little wolves, let me in!"
Inside, the four, little wolves and the soft-spoken Cheza jumped clear out of their skins. Peeking through the keyhole with an amber eye, Kiba plucked up his courage and shouted in reply, "Not by the hairs on our chinny-chin-chins!"
Kiba's cheeky reply infuriated the Big, Bad Pig. "Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll BLOOOW your house down!" he cried.
And that's exactly what he did. He huffed and he puffed, he snorted and blew until there was no more of the little straw house. Terrified, Kiba and his friends fled with the Big, Bad Pig in hot pursuit. As they ran, the four, little wolves and the alabaster-fleshed Cheza came upon another house. This one, however, was made of wood. The five friends scrambled inside and bolted the door fast. Once again, they heard the pig's booming voice, "Little wolves, little wolves, let me in!"
And, as before, Kiba cried, "Not by the hairs on our chinny-chin-chins!"
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll BLOOOW your house down!" the pig roared.
So he huffed and he puffed, he snorted and blew, yet the little wood house wouldn't budge not one inch. The Big, Bad Pig was as furious as a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory. Cursing, he retreated into the nearby wood. Kiba and his companions heaved a great sigh of relief, for they believed to be rid of the Big, Bad Pig. Yet the pig returned and, when he did, he carried a gallon jug of gasoline and a box of matches. He drenched the poor, little house in gasoline, struck a match, and set it afire. The four, little wolves and the porcelain-skinned Cheza were forced to flee lest they be burned.
Therefore, they loped away, searching for sturdier shelter against the Big, Bad Pig. It was then that they came upon a third house. This charming little cottage was made of brick. The five friends raced inside and made the door fast. And again, the pig's terrible voice made the windowpanes tremble. "Little wolves, little wolves, let me in!"
And you know as well as I brave Kiba's reply. "Not by the hair on our chinny-chin-chins!"
And do you know what that pig said? "Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll BLOOOW your house down!"
So he huffed and he puffed, he snorted and blew. But do you think that house even budged? No sir, not one inch. The Big, Bad Pig was beside himself. Swearing at the top of his breath, he disappeared into the wood. When he returned, he carried a bundle of dynamite. He strung the explosives all about the tiny, brick house, lit the fuse, and scrambled behind a nearby myrtle bush.
What a sight! Everything was thrown into the air by the violent explosion: soil, trees, bricks from the chimney, Tooboe, Hige, Tsume, Kiba, and even the kind-hearted Cheza.
When the five friends returned to the earth, they found the Big, Bad Pig leering down at them wickedly. The four, little wolves cowered in the pig's mighty shadow, but the sweet-smelling Cheza turned to her friends with a gentle, reassuring smile.
"My friends, you are going about it all wrong," she said. "This one knows what to do!"
The girl shyly approached the pig, her crimson eyes downcast. Suddenly, all about the meadow where the little house had stood, flowers began to bloom. There were Black-eyed Susans, bachelor's buttons, wild roses, baby's breath, and humble daisies. Their fragrance was most intoxicating, causing the Big, Bad Pig to behave rather strangely. He cavorted wildly about the meadow, skipping, dancing, and frolicking gracefully enough to put a ballerina to shame. Then, quite suddenly, he kneeled over and fell flat on his face. His heart had shattered, for he had died of sheer joy.
The four, little wolves glanced first at the dearly-beloved Cheza, then at the mound of pork before them and settled down to a sumptuous ham dinner. For they were only wolves, after all.
THE END