I completely ignored the prompt today, and instead wanted to recreate a fairytale or nursery rhyme. Here’s my take on the Three Little Pigs.
Three Little Pigs
You may think a story of three little pigs,
all fleeing from Wolfy, cohabiting digs,
is noble and funny – a little bit charming –
but the truth is disgusting and slightly alarming.
This nice little tale was rewritten (and spoiled)
to end with the villain in hot water, boiled,
after sliding the chimney of Piggy’s abode.
Now it’s time for the truth - a truth we’re all owed.
And those who are thinking Roald Dahl had it right
are sadly mistaken, and face correction tonight.
In Dahling’s defence, he was truthful in parts,
and so this will be where our correct version starts.
The story begins with three pigs leaving sty,
standing and waving their Mother goodbye.
Their purses are full of a thick wad of notes,
and stored in the pockets inside of their coats.
At a fork in the road, they all go separate ways
after choosing to meet up in three busy days.
Pig One heads for farmland, Pig Two to the woods,
and Three to the City to pick up some goods.
Pig One met a farmer, with hay made in bales.
Pig whipped out a pistol (which so rarely fails)
and robbed the poor farmer of all that he had…
oh, I forgot to mention – these Piggies are bad.
I guess we should pause at our first misconception –
Pigs aren’t little cuties – they’re full of deception.
Those long curly tails distract us in youth –
Pigs are ruthless killers, and that is the truth.
So back to our story; Pig One got the hay
(and I’ll let you imagine the Farmer’s okay).
With the threat of his gun, and a background in crime,
Pig One’s house of hay was built in record time.
And here, pause again – it’s our next misconception –
Pig’s just aren’t the choice for a welcome reception,
but young Wolfy Jones was oblivious to this –
he approached Pig One’s house in an ignorant bliss.
He had simply popped by to welcome his neighbour,
and would soon be regretting his kind act of labour.
He reached for the doorbell, and – at the ding-dong –
Pig One opened up, thinking something was wrong.
The Wolf, bearing gifts, let his mouth form a grin
but Pig One was distracted with the long teeth within.
In fear, Piggy One slammed the door quickly shut
taking half of the skin off of poor Wolfy’s foot.
Wolf howled in pain, and – nursing his toes –
did that huff-and-puff breathing that everyone knows,
as if deep-breathing inward and outward again
is the nice simple way to relieve all the pain.
Meanwhile, in the woods, Piggy Two was engaged
with the lengthy procurement of timber, well aged.
Why lengthy, you ask? The same thing as Pig Un –
Pig Two had a forester in the sight of his gun.
After cleaning the mess of the forester’s guts,
Pig Two got to work on his neat row of huts.
With open-floor planning, and a woodwork-based mind,
it wasn’t too long ’til the huts were designed.
A half a week later, Wolf limps to the door –
his feet having healed a bit from before.
Again he approaches with a smile and a gift,
but Pig Two is a sceptic, and judgement is swift.
Having heard from Pig One, Piggy Two is prepared.
He had made bows and arrows with the wood he had spared.
Upon sight of the Wolf, Piggy Two caused him harm
firing arrows at Wolfy, and striking his arm.
Young Wolfy despairs – this is just not his week,
and he fled to the Doctors to sort his physique.
Meanwhile, Piggy Two rang his brother (Pig Three),
“You’ll never believe who just visited me!”
It’s time to catch up with Pig Three’s path so far;
he got to the city by stealing a car,
and when he arrived he had no trouble getting
a three-bed apartment a young lady was letting.
He had used a fake name on the contracts he signed,
and left references that nobody could find,
and then paid the deposit in counterfeit dosh
(What a dreadful young Piggy! Oh my good golly gosh!).
Some days and weeks later, with young Wolf on the mend
he thought he’d reach out to a final new friend.
This time in the city; what harm could lurk here?
Well I guess we’ll find out…Wolfy’s getting quite near.
He’s at the end of the street, he’s at the front door,
he’s climbing the stairs to Room 40; fourth floor.
He knocks and he waits, and he fumbles his hands,
and the door opens slowly on where young Wolfy stands.
He’s midway to smiling, when a brick grazes past.
Another just misses, a third follows fast.
The fourth and the fifth hit the Wolf in the face,
and the sixth hits the Wolf in a…delicate place.
The seventh and eighth hit the back of his head,
and before double-digits the Wolfy is dead.
Pig Three starts emerging; he checks the Wolf’s ‘beat,
Pig One and Two join him, and stand by his feet.
“Who wants his head?”, Three asks One and Two,
“He’s definitely dead, so thank you and you”.
“We think it’s for you; you killed him and all!
His head would look great on that back bedroom wall.”
And that is the truth of our Three Little Pigs,
they all joined the City in Piggy Three’s Digs.
They ate Wolfy’s liver, his brains and his heart,
his head is wall-mounted, they consider it ‘art’.
The three little pigs are not charming and sweet,
they killed innocent Wolfy and butchered his meat.
So next time you hear any cute fairytale,
think ‘is this the truth, or does lying prevail?’