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This week’s story isn’t inspired by a Write the Story prompt. Instead, I’m exploring a familiar tale from a fresh perspective. I hope you enjoy seeing this story in a new light!
It’s been rough since those three pig brothers move into town. Folks around here used to trust me, but now, they avoid me. I was a well respected handyman. Life’s getting pretty lonely.
How did all this start? Let me tell you.
It was about four months ago, I was just wandering down the street and noticed three little pigs standing outside the building supply store. As I approached, they seemed to get more and more nervous and by the time I got to the building, the pigs had squealed away.
A couple days later, I saw the pigs working on building a house, but they were using straw! Of all the ridiculous things! I started walking up to offer my handyman card, but the pigs went and hid inside the mostly completed structure. I knocked on the door, “Little pigs, little pigs, please let me come in!”
The strangest response came back, “Not by the hair of our chinny, chin chins.”
Huh? Thinking they were just messing with me, I responded, “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow the house down!” Well, just about that time, a gust of wind blew threw, and of course, the straw house tumbled to the ground and the pigs disappeared before I could say “boo.” So strange. Oh well.
The next week, I saw the pigs working on another house, but this time out of sticks. At least they had a sturdier structure this time. I started walking up again to offer assistance and a fresh baked pie. Same story–the pigs ran inside to hide. I knocked on the door, “Little pigs, little pigs, please let me come in!”
The same response came back, “Not by the hair of our chinny, chin chins.”
Thinking they were just messing with me again, I responded, “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow the house down!” This time, a small earthquake rumbled the ground, barely noticeable, but of course, the house of sticks came tumbling down and the pigs ran away.
A few weeks later, I saw the pigs working on another house, but this time out of bricks. It was looking really, really good. I started walking up again to compliment them on their work. Same story–the pigs ran inside to hide. I knocked on the door, “Little pigs, little pigs, please let me come in!”
The same response came back, “Not by the hair of our chinny, chin chins.”
This response was really getting frustrating, but I responded, “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow the house down!” This time, of course nothing happened and the house stood firm, but the pigs still wouldn’t answer the door. I figured they were just shy or didn’t want to socialize with the locals yet, so I left.
Soon, though, others in the town started avoiding me. I heard whispers of “the big, bad wolf.” Who, me? Apparently, the pigs blamed me for the destruction of their first two houses! Oh my!
Now, it seems no one wants to hear my version of the events. Should I give in and live up to the new “big, bad wolf” reputation, just keep doing my thing and hoping that in time things will settle down, or is it time for me to just relocate to a more wolf-friendly city? Decisions, decisions.
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