The Three Little Pigs
by
InfernalDaimen
Once upon a time, there was a plantation. There were three main buildings in this plantation, other than what was on needed to run the farm. One was a shack made out of mud and thatch, built on a clear patch of land. Another was a log cabin, built in the forest. And the last one was made of stone, and mortar.
And on this plantation, lived three little pigs, along with their mother who owned and maintained the farm. The three little pigs constantly bickered, almost more often than they ate, which was at least six large meals a day, all prepared by their mother. Even though the farm was successful, the three little pigs ate most of the farm's profits, while doing none of the work, leaving the mama pig to do it all.
One day, annoyed at her sons' laziness, and of their fighting, she told them that she needed some time to be by herself. So she made them each go to separate house, which were at different ends of the farm. The eldest claimed the stone house, the middle child claimed the cabin, and the youngest pig was stuck with the mud and thatch shack.
Shortly after they had arrived in their temporary homes, which was well after dark, they heard the howl of a wolf. The idea of any actual danger was foreign to them, as anything even remotely dangerous in the region knew and feared their mother's left hook. That being said, the three little pigs were terrified by this howl. The youngest pig huddled around the chimney, desperately trying to make the damp wooden logs that had been left in the shack to light on fire. He didn't have any kindling, or anything-he was trying to rub two sticks together.
A knock came at his door. Dropping his sticks, he nearly peed himself. He timidly answered with a 'Y-y-y-yes?" A rough, gravely voice answered, 'Its cold….its wet…and I'm hungry. Have pity on a poor traveler and let me in.' The pig only had a small bag of sweets with him, and his stomach was rumbling uncomfortably. There was no way this traveler would get his food, but he didn't want to anger this stranger, in fear of what he might do. So, he said nothing. A minute passes, and the pig lets out a sigh of relief, pleased that he handled that situation so well. He licks his chops, suddenly ravenous, and reaches out for the bag of sweets. As he's reaching, he notices that the door knob is turning, very slowly. This time, he really does pee himself, as the door opens, revealing a large wolf, standing in the doorway. The wolf growls, and slowly approaches the pig….
The next night, a knock comes at the middle pig's door. This pig has faired much better than his younger brother, besides not having been eaten. He had taken flint, tinder, and dry wood with him, and was in the process of cooking some mushrooms he had found for dinner. The pig looks up from his pot, which he had found in the cabinets, and calls out, 'Oui! Who the hell is it?' A rough, gravely voice answers, 'Its cold….its wet…and I'm hungry. Have pity on a poor traveler and let me in.' The pig just scoffs, and answers, 'Find ya own feed n' roof, this lots mine!' The pig chuckles at the ridiculous idea of him giving away food when he hears a wolf's murderous growl from behind the door. The door knob tries to turn, but the wolf discovers that its locked. The pig, scared, but not a coward, chuckles again. 'Ya think I'm a fool? That there door is strong enough to keep out a dozen wolves.' The wolf replies, 'Is that so?' and moves to his left, trailing a clawed hand against the wood of the logs. He comes to a window, made of old, brittle glass. 'Is this strong enough to keep out a dozen wolves?' The wolf slams a paw into the glass, breaking it. He jumps through the shattered window, and approaches the pig, trying to hide in a corner of the cabin….
The next night, the third little pig, the eldest, the largest, the instigator of most of the bickering that drove his mother to giving all her sons the boot, was sitting in his stone house, warm from a fire he had light in the chimney. He had used flint he had found in his brother's house the other day. Beside him lay an empty bag that had once held sweets. The bag had a little blood on one of the corners. The windows to his house had been boarded up, with timber and tools stolen from his mother's house early that morning. The door was stronger than the one on the log cabin, and he was confident that whatever had killed his brothers wouldn't get him. He had tried to find his mother, but she was no where to be found. Her house, a huge, multi-storied thing wouldn't be easy to defend. This single story stone house was, however. An hour after sun-down, a knock came at the door, followed by a rough-gravelly voice saying these words, 'Its cold….its wet…and I'm hungry. Have pity on a poor traveler and let me in'. The eldest pig coldly regarded these words, and answered, 'You the bastard who murdered my brothers?'
The wolf chuckled, and pounded on the solid oak door. 'Indeed, I am. Nice little hole you've dug yourself into, hmm? It was amusing watching you prepare for your turn to feed me. Your brothers have been ever so generous, more than I need at the moment, in fact. Why don't I share some with you?' The pig opened his mouth to ask what the wolf meant when he heard the wolf scamper onto the roof. The pig looks up at the roof laughing, 'Heh! My roof is made of solid oak, no way you're going to be able to get in here!' The pig reached down to grab a half-light log from the fire, just in case, when a cascade of fresh bacon grease gushes down the chimney, and into the fire, covering his hand in flaming liquid. The light grease covers the floor of the cabin, and the last little pig roasts to death.
The next day, the big bad wolf leaves the mother pig's house, having been paid to murder her three liabilities, I mean, sons.