The Pig Who Loved Mud Wrestling: A Short Story

muddy-pigLong ago, in a land far away, a young boar named Bart went to a Swine Party. In villages and towns, a Swine Party—usually held in a large barn—is where young single pigs went to meet.

As soon as Bart walked through the front door of the barn, one sow standing alone in the corner caught his eye. She had pink ears, a pink snout, a perky pink tail, and she was wearing a pretty pink dress. Her name was Wilma.

His heart racing, Bart walked up to her and asked, “Will you dance with me? You’re the prettiest pig I’ve ever seen!”

Wilma blushed and said, “Sure I will!”

Then Bart, offering Wilma his forearm, walked her to the dance floor.

In the center of the barn, a three-boar band was playing hillbilly music with a banjo, fiddle, and drums. The dance floor encircled the band, and dozens of sows and boars were stomping and swinging to the beat.

After dancing for seven straight songs, Bart and Wilma were sweating from head to hoof.

“I need to take a break,” Bart said, out of breath.

“Okay,” Wilma laughed. “You sit down, but I’m just getting started!”

Bart sat on a bench beside several other boars, and watched Wilma dance, shaking her body and stomping her hooves on the dance floor.

After that night, nature took its course, and six months later, Bart and Wilma got married.

For their honeymoon, Bart took Wilma to a resort with hot springs and mud baths. On their first night, when they were sitting up to their necks in mud, Wilma said, “Ever since I was a little pig, I’ve wanted to be a mother.”

Bart smiled and said slyly, “Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted to make some little piggies!” And then he grabbed Wilma and carried her out of the mud bath.

Following their honeymoon, Wilma and Bart bought a barn just outside their village. It was a small barn with four bedrooms and a loft, but big enough for them to start a family.

Bart had a job in a corn mill, grinding corn with his feet ten hours a day. Wilma stayed at home, made the meals, and planted a garden; and three months after they were married, she gave birth to twelve healthy piglets.

Bart and Wilma were a happy family. Bart worked hard and was promoted to boss-hog. Five years went by, and their piglets became full-grown. And then, as all young pigs must eventually do, they moved out, got married, and lived in their own barns.

The day after the last pig left, Wilma was sitting with Bart at the kitchen table, when she said sadly, “Our barn feels so empty without our little piglets.”

“I know,” Bart sighed. “What’s life all about? What’s the meaning?”

Wilma thought for a moment and said, “We’ll both grow old together, go for long walks, and enjoy each other’s company.”

“Yes,” Bart said, forcing a smile. “Until death do a pig part.” But in his heart, that didn’t sound very exciting.

One Friday after work, Bart was trudging home, when Fred, a boar he worked with, caught up with him. Fred was middle-aged and divorced.

“Hey, Bart! You want to go to mud wrestling tonight?”

Bart shook his head. “I don’t think Wilma would approve.”

“She doesn’t need to know. Just make up an excuse.”

Bart thought it over and grinned. “What the heck? Every boar deserves to have a little fun now and again.”

Fred slapped Bart on the back. “You got that right! You won’t be the same pig after tonight.”

Bart went home, and after supper, he told Wilma: “I’m going to play cards tonight with Fred and some of the boars from work.”

“Okay,” Wilma said. “But please be home by eleven. You know I get worried if you’re out too late.”

“I’ll be home on time,” Bart promised, and then he and Wilma rubbed their snouts together.

After dinner, Bart met up with Fred at a place called The Mud Pie. It was a sand pit with a large pool of mud in the center and stadium seating on one side. A hundred other boars were there, and most of them were drinking swill. Fred bought tickets for the front row, and he and Bart bought a bottle of hogwash.

Not long after Fred and Bart sat down, a massive boar, holding a hammer, struck a bronze gong beside the pool of mud, and the first match began. Two young sows came out of separate tents in the corner of the pit. They were both very beautiful, had shaved bodies, and weren’t wearing any clothes.

Fred said excitedly, “Look at the ham on the short one! Oh, yeah!”

“I like the tall one better,” Bart blurted. Then he counted. “She’s got twenty teats!”

The two sows walked around the pool of mud, taunting each other with angry stares, and when they wiggled their rumps, all the boars roared.

The two young sows pushed, slapped, and tried to trip each other until they both fell down and rolled around in the mud. Each sow scored a point when they pinned their opponent. The match lasted for a half an hour, and Bart enjoyed every minute of it. He felt like a young boar again, grunting and squealing at the top of his lungs.

After that, there were three more matches. When the wrestling was over, Bart thanked Fred for inviting him and hurried home to Wilma.

He found her sitting on the bench in the living room, pigging out on a bowl of buttered corn. “Did you have a good time with your boar friends?” she asked.

“I sure did!” Bart said, his face beaming.

Then he grabbed Wilma, and he tried to pick her up, but she was too heavy. So he offered her his forearm, walked her into the bedroom, and they made wild pig love.

The weeks went by, and every Friday, Bart went with Fred to mud wrestling. One night, after he got home, he said to Wilma, “I think we should start exercising.”

She frowned. “Why? Do you think I’m fat?”

Wilma and Bart’s jowls had tripled in size since they first met. They were both fat pigs.

“Not at all,” Bart said. “But we’re getting older. If we don’t exercise, we might get — heart disease.”

Wilma exploded in anger. “I work hard in the garden, walk to the market every day, and you think I’m a fat, lazy pig! I hate you!”

Bart tried to stay calm. “That’s not what I said, Wilma.”

“That’s what you’re thinking.” Then Wilma started crying, ran to the bedroom, and locked the door.

No matter what Bart said, Wilma wouldn’t change her mind. She didn’t want to exercise, and she was hurt and angry every time Bart suggested it.

So Bart exercised on his own. He lost a lot of weight, lifted sacks of corn, and became really buff.

The weeks went by, and Bart continued to go to mud wrestling with Fred. One Friday, after the final match, he was about to go home when Sally Strong—the number-one wrestler—sashayed up to him. She wore a beautiful red dress, and reminded Bart of Wilma when she was younger.

“Hi there,” Sally said. “I see you here every week.”

“I come to see you!” Bart said with a big grin. “You’re an amazing wrestler.”

“You should be a wrestler. You’ve got the muscles for it.”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” Bart said offhandedly, “but I’m happy doing what I’m doing.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a boss-hog at the corn mill.”

“I like a boar who can command other boars,” Sally said, fluttering her eyes.

“I am a powerful pig!” Bart boasted. “Look at these.” And then he flexed his chest muscles.

Sally giggled. “Ooh! My tail is wiggling!”

Bart and Sally talked for a while, and then she asked, “Do you want to get a glass of swill?”

“Sure I do!” Bart said.

They walked to the Wild Boar Inn, sat at the bar, and drank several glasses of swill. Then, at one in the morning, Bart realized how late it was.

“Whoa, I gotta go!”

“Oh,” Sally said, disappointed. “Will I see you again?”

“Maybe. Probably. I’m not sure.” And then Bart put money on the table and ran home.

When he unlocked the barn door, Wilma was sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in a blanket. “Where were you?!” she asked angrily.

“I—uh… Fred and I had a few glasses of swill at the Wild Boar.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes, what did you think I was doing?”

Wilma frowned. “You can sleep in the loft tonight.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what you deserve—for being so inconsiderate.”

Then Wilma trotted to the bedroom and locked the door.

The next morning, Bart and Wilma didn’t eat breakfast together, and when he came home after work, they barely talked to each other.

That night, Bart decided he would sleep again in the loft.

“I think I’ll sleep better tonight if I have my own bed,” he explained to Wilma. “I’m getting older, and I toss and turn when I sleep.”

Wilma sighed. “Sleep wherever you want.”

For the next week, Bart continued to sleep in the loft. Then on Friday, after the first wrestling match at The Mud Pie, he said to Fred: “I’ve got to be honest with Wilma.”

“Are you crazy? She’ll kick you out of the barn. That’s what my wife did.”

Bart shook his head. “I’m not going to tell her about mud wrestling.”

“What are you going to tell her?”

Bart didn’t answer Fred. He got up and left, and as soon as he got home, he went into Wilma’s bedroom. She was sitting on the bed in her pink pajamas, reading a book.

“You’re home early,” she said.

“Wilma, I’ve decided something.”

“Oh? What?” Wilma asked, a nervous expression on her face.

“I want to live on my own.”

“What?!” Wilma said, her face stricken. “Why?”

“We’ve grown apart. I don’t love you anymore.”

“You’re seeing another sow!” Wilma yelled. “Who is she?”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Bart said, and then he left the room and packed his things in a sack.

Before Bart left, he went back to Wilma’s bedroom and said, “I’ll send you some money—until you can make it on your own.”

“I don’t need anything from you!” Wilma said with contempt, but after Bart was gone, she broke down and cried.

The next day, Bart rented a small barn; he started seeing Sally, and he soon discovered that she was totally different than Wilma.

Bart and Wilma often went for walks in the woods, but Sally liked to run through the fields and wrestle with him, and he got a sore back.

On weekends, Bart and Wilma went to sleep before midnight, but Sally liked to party until sunrise, and Bart felt exhausted when he went to work.

When Bart got home from work, Wilma always had a hot supper waiting for him—corn, potatoes, or onions—but Sally didn’t know how to cook, so they went to a cook-house to eat.

Although Sally earned a lot of money as a wrestler, she wasn’t a smart shopper like Wilma, and didn’t save anything. She often asked Bart if he could buy her new clothes.

The weeks went by, and Bart woke up one morning and realized how much he missed Wilma. So that same day after work, he went to see her and knocked on her door.

Wilma opened the door and said calmly, “Hello, Bart.”

“Hi, Wilma,” Bart replied, and then he just stood there, not knowing what to say.

“Is there something you want?” Wilma finally asked.

“Wilma, I made a mistake.” Bart said sadly. “I love you, and I’d like to come back. Will you forgive me?”

“It’s too late for that,” Wilma sighed.

An old boar with white hair came to the door and put his arm around Wilma.

“Bart,” Wilma said. “This is William.”

Bart was shocked. “You have a boar-friend?”

“Yes,” Wilma said with a smile. “We met a month ago.”

“At a Senior’s Swine Party,” William said.

“But he’s old,” Bart said, wide-eyed.

“Yes; and I’m fat,” Wilma said.

“She makes me feel young again,” William said with a big grin. “She’s full of energy and spunk.”

Bart couldn’t argue with that.

So Bart left, went back to his barn, and he asked Sally to move in with him. Day after day, he tried to change her, but she was who she was.

And six months later, Wilma married William, an old boar who loved her just as she was.

Image Credit:


The Troll Who Went To War: A Fable

Theodor_Kittelsen_-_Skogtroll,_1906_(Forest_Troll)Long ago, a troll lived in a cave on a mountain. He had a head shaped like a pumpkin, a nose like a banana, skin as hard as a rock, and he was ten feet tall. His name was Thug, and he loved one thing more than anything else: He loved trees.

After the sun went down, Thug came out of his cave and talked to the trees. He ate the acorns on the oak trees and said, “You make me feel smart.”

He touched the soft bark of the birch trees and said, “You make me feel gentle,” and he smelled the needles of the pine trees and said, “You make me feel calm.”

Thug didn’t have a friend in the world, but he treated the trees on his mountain like friends.

If a tree had any dead branches, he pruned it by biting the branches off with his teeth. If a tree looked unhealthy, he peed on it to give it nutrients to grow. And if he felt lonely, he hugged a tree and didn’t let go until sunrise, when he went back to his cave to sleep.

Many miles from Thug’s mountain, there was a kingdom ruled by a man named Greybeard. The king had long grey hair, a long grey beard, and he wore a grey robe and a silver crown. When he needed to think, he sat on his throne and pulled on his beard.

King Greybeard felt sad because his people were poor. His land was barren, and the people barely grew enough crops to survive. But one day, he was sitting on his throne when he had an idea.

He summoned Simon, his Right Hand who carried out his orders and gave him counsel. Simon was a bald man, 20 years younger than the king.

King Greybeard ordered him: “Send men to Troll Mountain, and cut down the trees. Pay the men well, so they can provide for their families. We will trade the wood with other kingdoms, and increase our store of gold. I will make my kingdom prosperous again.”

But Simon reminded him: “Many men have gone to cut down the trees, but none have returned. It is said a troll lives on the mountain, and he eats men.”

King Greybeard scoffed. “The troll is a myth. Do as I have commanded.”

And so, Simon sent 50 men to Troll Mountain. After they arrived, they worked until sunset, cutting down many tall trees: oak, birch, and pine.

When Thug woke up, he came down the mountain, and to his horror, dozens of his trees had been chopped down.

He fell to his knees and wept. Then he said, “Men kill my trees. I will make them pay for what they have done.”

Thug returned to his cave and picked up his hammer. His hammer was huge—twice the size of his head. He waited until midnight; then he came down the mountain and smashed all the logger’s tents while they were sleeping. However, one logger managed to escape.

The following morning, the logger appeared before King Greybeard, and told him what the troll had done. The king was greatly dismayed.

Soon after, the families of the dead loggers gathered outside the castle, and demanded that the king kill the troll.

King Greybeard summoned Simon to his throne room and asked him: “What should I do?”

“You must destroy the troll,” Simon urged him.

King Greybeard frowned. “I do not want war. If we attack him, many more men will die.”

Simon waited, and then he said, “If you do not attack the troll, he will surely attack us. It is better that we fight him on the mountain before he comes here.”

King Greybeard thought it over, and pulled on his long grey beard. Finally, he said, “No, we provoked him by cutting down his trees. He killed the loggers to deter us from coming back. If we leave him be, he will leave us alone.”

A year went by, and the troll did not attack as Simon predicted. However, there was a drought, and the people became even more destitute.

Every day, hundreds gathered outside the castle and demanded bread to eat.

King Greybeard summoned Simon to his throne room and asked him: “What should I do?”

Simon hesitated, and then he suggested, “Buy the people bread. You have plenty of gold.”

“No,” King Greybeard said, clenching his fist. “If I give them bread, they will become dependent on it. The people must create their own wealth. I only spend my gold for the defense of the kingdom, and to build roads and bridges.”

Simon thought for a moment, and then he said, “Troll Mountain has the best trees in the land. “They are by right your trees, for you are a king and can take whatever you want. Put men to work cutting down the trees, but also send your army to protect them. The troll will not attack an entire army.”

King Greybeard nodded his head and smiled. “It is a good plan. Carry it out.”

And so, Simon sent 50 more loggers to cut down the trees on Troll Mountain, and he also sent the king’s army of 100 men to protect them.

When Thug woke up, he came down the mountain, and to his horror, he saw that many more of his trees had been axed.

He fell to his knees and pounded his fists on the ground. Then chomped his teeth, and said, “Men have no respect for my trees. I will make them pay, so they will never cut down my trees again.”

Thug returned to his cave and got his battle axe. It was massive, twice as big as his torso, and sharper than any sword. He waited until midnight; then he attacked the king’s army. The soldiers fired arrows, but the troll’s rock-like skin was too hard, and the arrows fell to the ground. Thug killed every man with his axe, chopping off their heads, or cutting them in two.

As the loggers came out of their tents, Thug stomped on them and strangled them, but half of them escaped.

The next morning, when word reached King Greybeard that half of the loggers and all the men in his army were dead, he was filled with great sorrow.

Soon after, the families of the dead gathered outside the castle and demanded that the king kill the troll.

King Greybeard summoned Simon to his throne room and asked him: “What should I do?”

“You must raise another army,” Simon urged him. “And you must destroy the troll.”

King Greybeard thought for a long while, and tugged on his long grey beard. Finally, he said, “Raise an army. But do not attack the troll. He slaughtered our army to deter us from cutting down his trees. If we leave him be, he will leave us alone.”

But Simon shook his head. “If you do nothing, the troll will see it as weakness. You must kill him before he attacks us. You must protect your people.”

“These are my orders,” King Greybeard said firmly. “Follow them.”

Simon did as the king commanded. He raised a new army to defend the kingdom, but he didn’t attack the troll.

Another year went by, and there was another drought. The people became even more hopeless. Hundreds gathered outside the castle and demanded bread. They demanded justice for the dead loggers and soldiers. Finally, they demanded that if the king could not give them what they wanted, he should abdicate the throne.

King Greybeard summoned Simon to his throne room and asked him: “What should I do?”

Simon scratched his head, and then he said, “If you do nothing, you will lose your throne. Therefore, you must send your army to destroy the troll. When the troll is dead, you can cut down the trees. Your people will no longer be poor.”

King Greybeard sighed, and then he frowned. “Many men will die, but I see no other choice. Send the army.”

Simon sent the army to Troll Mountain, but Thug was ready for them. After the sun went down, he ran down the mountain with his battle axe in one hand, and his hammer in the other, and he smashed half of the soldiers with his hammer, and the rest he beheaded with his axe.

After slaughtering the entire army, Thug went to the king’s castle and stood outside the defensive wall.

“I demand your king come out!” he thundered.

King Greybeard and Simon came to the balcony and saw the troll standing beyond the wall.

Thug raised his hammer and yelled, “I am Thug! You cut down many of my trees, but you will not cut down any more!”

Thug struck the wall many times until he made a hole in it. And then he stepped through the hole, walked to the castle, and stood below the balcony.

King Greybeard was trembling. He put his hands together and pleaded, “Great and mighty Thug! Have mercy on my people. It was I who ordered men to cut down your trees. Do not punish them because of me.”

Thug said sadly, “You killed many of my friends.”

“Friends? We killed no one.”

“The trees are my friends. You destroyed them!”

King Greybeard vowed, “I promise you, I will never send any men to your mountain again.”

Thug stared at the king, and scratched his head. And then he said, “I will make sure of that.”

Thug smashed his hammer against the castle, cracking the foundation, and then he smashed it again and again.

King Greybeard said to Simon: “Evacuate the castle.”

Simon left and did as the king commanded. Then Greybeard tried to reason with the troll.

“Great and mighty Thug,” he pleaded. “Do what you will to my castle. Do what you will with me, but do not harm my people.”

“Never again!” Thug yelled. “You will never attack my trees again!”

The troll went on smashing and cracking the castle until the foundation was destroyed, and when the balcony fell, King Greybeard was buried in the rubble.

Victorious, Thug raised his hammer in the air and roared. Then he turned and trudged back to his mountain.

After the troll was gone, the people gathered outside the ruined castle, and mourned for King Greybeard. He had saved their lives by sacrificing himself.

The king, who had no sons or daughters, had named Simon his heir, and he was crowned king.

With Greybeard’s store of gold, he bought the people bread. And because he was generous, the people loved him.

He also raised a new army to defend the city. But he didn’t send any soldiers to attack the troll. And he didn’t send any loggers to cut down the trees. He knew what would happen if he did.

The troll would destroy them all. And because of that, there was no more war.

Image Credit:

The Three Lazy Pigs: A Short Story

three pigsThere was once an old sow who lived in a barn in New Brunswick. She gave birth to three piglets, but her boar-friend, who didn’t want to be a father, left her.

The old sow raised three sons all on her own: Big Snout, a black pig with a large nose; Curly Tail, a white pig with a long tail; and Barn Breath, a white pig with black stripes and a large mouth.

When Big Snout, Curly Tail, and Barn Breath became full-grown, they ate so much that their mother couldn’t afford to keep them anymore.

So one summer day, she opened her barn door and said, “The more I fill my fridge, the more food you eat! None of you have ever worked a day in your lives. It’s time for you to stop freeloading off of me, and start earning your own money.”

The three pigs knew better than to argue with their mother. Big Snout strapped his TV to his back; Curly Tail filled a bag with barley for them to eat; Barn Breath folded up their blankets; and as they walked out the barn door, they hugged their mother and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’ll miss you, Mother,” Big Snout said with a tear in his eye. “You’ve been good to us.”

“We’ll make you proud of us, Momma,” Barn Breath said with a smile.

“Yeah, cause we’ll be rich!” Curly Tail laughed.

“Lazy pigs don’t get rich,” the old sow sighed.

The three pigs said goodbye, and then walked to the Trans-Canada Highway, hitched a ride on a tractor-trailer truck, and travelled west to Saskatchewan.

Seeing a farmer bailing hay, they asked the truck driver to stop, and they hurried across the field to see the farmer.

“Please, Mr. Farmer,” Big Snout said, “We are homeless and have no money. Could you give us one hundred bales of hay? We want to build a house to give us shelter from the cold and the rain.”

The farmer frowned. “You want hay? Go get a job, and then pay me! I don’t give free handouts.”

The three pigs got down on their knees and begged, and the farmer said, “Alright, alright. You can work for me, and I’ll pay you in hay.”

For the next two weeks, the three pigs worked from sunrise until sunset, and when they were done, the farmer gave them all the hay they wanted, and they each got a bag of corn as a bonus. The pigs built a house of hay in the corner of the field; then they sat down, watched Big Snout’s TV, and ate like pigs.

“Brothers,” Big Snout said. “We must never do hard work like that again to get what we want.”

“Yeah, that was terrible,” Curly Tail groaned.

Barn Breath wiped his forehead. “We sweated like pigs.”

A few days later, a big bad wolf knocked on the pigs’ door. On the run from the police for killing three sheep, he needed a place to hide.

The wolf said, “Little piggies! Little piggies! I feel chilly. Please let me come in.”

“I’ll open the door if you give me fifty bucks,” Curly Tail promised.

The wolf slid fifty bucks under their door. Then he said, “Now please be nice pigs and let me come in.”

“No! Not by the peach fuzz on our cheeks and chins,” Barn Breath snorted.

The wolf threatened them: “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down.”

“Ha, ha,” Curly Tail snickered. “We don’t believe you.”

The wolf said, “I’ll stomp on the roof of your house.” But he didn’t. Then he said, “I’ll kick down your door.” But he didn’t. He just took a deep breath and walked away.

“What a moron!” Curly Tail laughed as he folded the fifty dollars and put it in his pocket.

Big Snout said, “I don’t think you should have made fun of the wolf. He might come back and try to eat us.”

But Curly Tail and Barn Breath just laughed.

Later that night, while the pigs were sleeping, there was a great rainstorm, and the house of hay collapsed.

Barn Breath shouted: “Let’s get out of here before the wolf comes back!”

And so, Big Snout strapped his TV to his back; Curly Tail picked up their bags of corn; Barn Breath folded up their blankets, and the pigs left the farm.

The three pigs hitchhiked along the highway, got a ride with a man in a van, and went west to the Rocky Mountains. Seeing a logger cutting down trees, they asked the man in the van to stop, and hurried across the clear cut field to see the logger.

“Please, Mr. Logger,” Big Snout said. “We are homeless and have very little money. Can you give us some logs and nails? We want to build a house to protect us from the cold and the rain.”

“And wolves!” Barn Breath added.

The logger thought for a moment. Then he said, “OK. You can all work for me, and I’ll pay you each one log a day.”

“But we have no logging skills!” Barn Breath yelled.

“And we might get injured,” Curly Tail cried.

Big Snout said, “Given our inability to do this kind of work, if you won’t give us logs and nails, then we’ll sit and squat.”

“And hug every tree you try to cut!” Barn Breath blurted.

The logger put his hand on his gut, let out a loud laugh, started his chainsaw, and went back to work.

But the three pigs meant what they said. They all sat and squatted, and hugged every tree the logger tried to cut.

“OK, you tree-hugging pigs!” the logger thundered. “Take all the wood you want.” And then he handed them a hammer and a box of nails. “But don’t bother me again.”

The three pigs thanked the logger, and dragged dozens of logs to a meadow where they built a house. Then they wrapped themselves in their blankets, watched Big Snout’s TV, and ate like pigs.

A few days later, the big bad wolf knocked on the pigs’ door and said, “Little piggies! Little piggies! I feel cold. Please let me come in.”

“I’ll open the door if you give me fifty bucks,” Curly Tail promised.

The wolf slid fifty bucks under their door. Then he pleaded again, “Now please be nice pigs, and let me come in.”

“No!” Barn Breath boomed. “Not by the peach fuzz on our cheeks and backs!”

The wolf threatened them: “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff. And I’ll blow your house down.”

“Ha, ha,” Curly Tail chuckled. “You’re not strong enough.”

The wolf threatened them: “I’ll rip the roof off your house.” But he didn’t. Then he said, “I’ll set your door on fire.” But he didn’t. He just breathed a heavy sigh and walked away.

Curly Tail laughed out loud and said, “What a big bluffer!” And then he folded the fifty dollars and put it in his pocket.

Big Snout said, “Brothers, you shouldn’t have made fun of the wolf. He might come back and try to eat us.”

But Barn Breath and Curly Tail just laughed.

Later that night, there was a great windstorm, and the house of logs fell down.

“This house sucks!” Barn Breath yelled. “Let’s get out of here before the wolf comes back!”

And so, Big Snout strapped his TV to his back; Curly Tail picked up their last bag of corn; Barn Breath folded up their blankets; and the pigs left the meadow.

The pigs walked until they reached the rail tracks, and jumped on board a train. When the train passed through a small town in British Columbia, the pigs jumped off the rail car, and wandered up and down the streets until they found a building supply store.

“We demand service!” Curly Tail squealed as soon as they went inside.

When the manager came to them, Big Snout said, “Please, Sir. We are homeless and have very little money. Can you give us some free bricks and plaster? We want to build a house to protect us from the cold and the rain.”

“And bacon eaters!” Curly Tail blurted.

“You want bricks?” the manager frowned. “You’ll have to pay, just like everyone else. We aren’t a charity.”

“I urge you to reconsider,” Big Snout said. “If you refuse to give us bricks and plaster, we’ll sit on the floor of this store.”

“And we’re dirty stinking pigs,” Barn Breath added. “You’ll lose a lot of customers.”

The manager rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Nobody smells that bad.”

But the three pigs meant what they said, and they sat on the floor of the store. Big Snout made nasty noises out of his nostrils; Curly Tail wiggled his tail, let out a lot of air, and Barn Breath belched.

All day long, every customer who came in the door yelled, “Pee-yew! This place stinks!” And they ran away.

The manager was furious. “OK, you filthy stinking pigs, I’ll give you a load of bricks and plaster. But I charge $100 for delivery.”

“That’s a deal!” Curly Tail said. And he gave the manager the money he received from the wolf.

The three pigs oinked in appreciation, and the manager delivered the bricks and plaster to the garbage dump. After the pigs built a house, they wrapped themselves in their blankets, watched Big Snout’s TV, and ate like pigs.

A few days later, the big bad wolf knocked on the pig’s door and said, “Little pigs! Little pigs! I’m freezing. Please open your door, and let me come in.”

Barn Breath snorted, “No! Not by the peach fuzz on our cheeks and butts.”

Big Snout said softly, “Brothers, I think we should let him in.”

But Barn Breath said, “No way, brother.”

And Curl Tail agreed: “Yeah, that would be stupid.”

The wolf threatened them: “If you don’t let me in, I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down.”

“Ha, ha,” Curly Tail giggled. “You make threats, but you don’t follow through.”

“You can huff and puff all you want,” Barn Breath laughed. “We aren’t afraid of you.”

The wolf pounded his paws on their door, and howled, “You fat unfriendly pigs! I’ve had enough.”

“Woo-ooo!” Curly Tail yelled.

“Mr. Wolf sounds mad!” Barn Breath boomed.

The wolf said, “I killed three sheep, and I need a place to hide from the police. You take my money, but you won’t open your door for me. I’m going to destroy this house, and then I’m going to eat you!”

“Ha, ha,” Curly Tail snickered. “You can bluster all you want, but you’re full of—”

The wolf took a deep breath, and then he blew with all his might, and the house of bricks began to shake.

“Oh, no!” Curly Tail squealed.

“We’re dead meat!” Barn Breath cried.

“I told you not to make fun of him,” Big Snout sighed.

The big bad wolf continued to blow, and blow, and blow. And then, all of a sudden, the house of bricks fell down! The three pigs were out of luck.

The wolf chased after the pigs, and he ate them all up.

And do you know what? The big bad wolf wasn’t lying. He really did feel chilly. He put the brick house back together, wrapped himself in the pig’s blankets, sat down, and watched Big Snout’s TV.

Image Credit:

The Sheep Who Refused To Fight: A Fable

sheep-goatA goat herder bought a herd of young goats and raised them in a field that he owned. But he was mean and cruel, and enjoyed yelling at them, and chasing them around the field. Then one evening, he left the gate open, and when he came back the next morning, the goats were gone.

The goats had fled to a grassy plain where they could graze. They enjoyed their freedom and had plenty to eat. However, one night, after the goats went to sleep, they were attacked by a wolf. No matter where the herd went, the wolf followed them, and every night the goats wondered which goat he would eat next.

A nanny goat decided to do something about the wolf. She waited until sunrise (when the wolf went to sleep), then she tip-toed away, and walked all day until she came to a flock of sheep.

“A wolf has eaten nearly half of my herd,” the nanny goat said to the sheep. “Can you send your strongest and bravest rams to help us?”

The sheep, both ewes and rams, all replied, “We are peaceful sheep and don’t believe in fighting. But if any goats want to come and live with us, they are welcome here.”

The nanny goat pleaded with the sheep; however, no matter what she said, they would not change their minds, so she kicked the ground and left them.

When the nanny goat returned home, to her great surprise, the young billy goats had grown horns.

That night, she gathered the billy goats together, and they rammed the wolf in the head until he dropped dead.

Several days later, a ewe lamb came to the goats and said, “A pack of wolves has attacked our flock. Can you send your strongest and bravest billy goats to help us?”

The billy goats shook their heads. “No; it’s not our fight.”

The nanny goat reminded her, “None of your rams came when we needed help.”

The ewe lamb pleaded with the goats, yet no matter what she said, she could not change their minds. So she kicked the ground and left them.

When the ewe lamb returned home, she bleated and cried. The wolves were gone, and all that remained of her flock was bits of wool and scattered bones.