The Three Little Pigs and the Big Bad Wolf

Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Cornwall where we lay our scene. From unavoidable hunger grows new mutiny, where pig’s blood makes wolves hands unclean. From forth the fatal dependence of these two foes, a trio of brave little pigs take the life of the wolf to bury nature’s strife. The fearful passage of their life threatened existence, and the continuance of their need for protection, the pigs end the wolf, with a house.

Before that blessed day, terror lurked like an acidic cloud, wilting over the sties, raining down fear and trepidation. Nothing felt safe. Wolves had infested the farmyard, pillaging, raping and killing leaving nothing but trails of blood, mud and chicken feathers. Everyone knew that something had to be done. For months the carnage went on, slowly eroding the population of the farmyards. For months, ideas of possible solutions ricocheted back and forth through the community. An unexpected conclusion was brought forward by the three pigs.

The three pigs were a smelly trio named Harry, Larry and Jeff. They were the only pigs left, as all others of the species that hadn’t become bacon wolf snacks, had been smart enough to leave the county. Watching pigs attempt to squeeze through fences is a lot more amusing than one may think. Not surprisingly, Harry Larry and Jeff were left alive as they were practically immune to wolves. Not because they were particularly ‘special’, not that they necessarily had ‘super powers’, they just smelt really, really bad. These pigs were sloppier, smellier, uglier, literally more ‘pig like’ than any other pig you’d ever have seen. Though meaty, these pigs smelt as if they had already started decomposing from the inside. Wolves weren’t into smelly meat. Then again, neither are many other animals. Though odourly challenged, these pigs did manage to come up with a solution as to how they were going to seek protection from the wolves. This became apparent as Jeff made an announcement during the weekly barn gathering.

“Dude, I got a plan!” he cried triumphantly, raising both hooves into the air. The audience moved back 5 paces. “I figured that like, since our barn isn’t quite keeping us all like.., you know, safe, we should like build like, a better one! Haha! Yeah man”. The audience was left confused. Larry came to the rescue.

“Jeff you fool! It disgusts me how you take the English language for granted...” Larry sighed, cleared his throat and adjusted his stained, framed, lookin’ deranged, glasses and attempted to clear up the messy ambiguity that Jeff had left hanging in the room. He cleared his throat again. “Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to first apologise for the highly inappropriate discourse, poorly displayed by my fellow genus. I believe that what he meant to say was in fact that we should build a new shelter, a new haven.., not necessarily a new barn, but a new house... yes a house.” Larry began nodding to himself, muttering quietly. Mass discussion erupted throughout the crowd. A goat stood up to speak.

“Eurekaaaaaa... how did you come up with such a brilliant ideaaaaa? Why didn’t we come up with this earliaaaaa?”

“Well”, said Harry, the third pig, “We had time to sit and think, just because we really stink. Without those threats on our lives, we sat, discussed, and watched time fly. So as I see they’re none objecting, I think we should start protecting, you and me, and our spouse, so c’mon people and build that house.” Harry then sat down.

Yes, I’m afraid this is how it all began. As the mandarin sun awoke the next morning, enlightening the sky with the knowledge of colour and beauty, the animals originating from the last farm of the Cornwall County began to emerge, gradually, mimicking the movements of the escalating sun. Scattering through the forest of ever-greens, the animals searched for straw ubiquitously, which was ultimately discovered in the very barn they had emerged from. An aura of hope and anticipation, radiated off the animal crowd, as they created their new ‘straw sanctuary’. At last a peace was to be uncovered. The tears and sweat shed throughout the process of the creation evaporated, the steam seizing whatever doubt or sorrow that was to be present in the mind of the animal workers. The doubtful, sorrowful steam rose to generate an unwelcome cloud, scowling over the functioning recruits of the farmstead. Challenged was the safe haven, as a pack of three wolves leisurely loomed towards the new straw abode.

And so the cloud broke. Panic seeped through the floors and walls of the house, fuming anxiety, suffocating the trembling asylum seekers. A tremor pierced through the house as a wolf shook it, as no knock was audible.

“Open the door!” bellowed one wolf of the three. The only reply was a whimper that had uncontrollably escaped from the muzzle of one of the younger lambs. In that moment of time Larry determined to arise and therefore answer against the wolf.

“Not by the goatee on my chinny chin-chin dude!”, he declared, quickly dashing off to the other side of the establishment causing further fret. The unfortunate remark highly agitated the wolves, resulting in rather detrimental consequences. A wolf heatedly replied back.

“You stinking pigs! I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow the house down!” The tree wolves took a deep breath and...

“This just in! Weather has been terrible in Cornwall. Reports of torrent winds and sorrowful rains have been accounted as residents claim to suffer from salty downpours of rain and unusual gusts of wind coming from the direction of the farming district. In the vicinity of the farms, these unexplained winds have somehow managed to tear down what is believed to be a house of straw, leaving a small cluster of animals wandering around in some sort of daze. No further investigation has been carried out due to the belief that wolves have infested the area. This is 95.5 FMX, your music station. More news at 10.

Meanwhile, back at the farm...


Chaos encircled the site where the house of straw had stood. In a confusion of hay, feathers and fur the farm animals reacted quickly and escaped into hiding. But in the midst of it all, some uncontainable force had some how persuaded Gemima, a heart broken goose, to stand still. Her gaze had become transfixed upon one of the breathless, muscular, hairy wolves. Perhaps it was due to the full moon, or due to the scent of hay which in some cultures believed to be some type of aphrodisiac. But Gemima felt love again, something she never thought possible. There was just something about the way that burly canine looked at her, that made her feel like a woman. No word needed to be spoken, as within moments, the goose and her wolf were wrapped in a passionate embrace, intensifying the mania sparking between them.

“I apologise for being so blunt, but may Ijust say you have got to be the most beautiful goose I have ever seen”, whispered the wolf, his voice smooth and milky, so sultry that it literally gave Gemima goose bumps.

“Then forgive me, for saying that you have got to be the handsomest wolf I have ever laid eyes on”, replied Gemima. Her heart pulsated within her little feathered body, leaving her feeling hot and flustered, almost scared. How glad she was as to be in the arms of such a warm, strong wolf. Strangely enough, despite the odd history, the wolf made Gemima feel safe. It was a blissful love against all the odds.

“Run away with me” expressed the wolf, grinning and therefore revealing all his teeth. Yet the goose failed to look past the depth in his eyes.

“Yes! Oh, a million times yes!” declared the goose as they shared a fiery kiss. So off they frolicked and it is believed that they lived happily ever after.

As this had been all happening, another barn gathering had taken place in order to reevaluate the plan.

“Ok, ok so sorry dudes, I see that the whole house thang didn’t really like work n’ stuff” said Jeff solemnly. “But hey! At least I like, busted out a couple brain cells.” The cluster of animals remained quiet. Once again Larry had to come to the rescue and clear up the confusion Jeff had caused.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please ignore my fellow pig friend. I believe that it is possible for us to prevail, as all that we are required to do is try again, his time with stronger materials.” Discussion suddenly found its way back into the barn. Harry stood up and shouted.

“Please be silent, I feel sick. Larry I think you’re so thick. Can’t you see that Jeff is right? The house won’t work so I say fight! Those bleedin’ wolves think they’re so tough, c’mon man, my mom’s more buff, than any of those stupid dogs, its war I say, between wolf and hog”. He sat down hot and apprehensive, sweating. The crowd remained silent. “Airight then, we’ll have a vote”, suggested Larry. “Those who would like to fight against the wolves with Harry step to that side, and house builders stay around me”. After a few minutes of hustle and bustle, it was obvious that the barn animals were in proper favour of building the house. Perhaps they didn’t enjoy violence, or they had heard a proverb about how one was not to trust a rhyming pig. Either which way the animals sent out once again in search of stronger materials in which to build new house.

The house of brick was built. The screaming silence of the night echoed throughout the empty fields as the animals sat motionless inside the house, waiting.

A howl was heard.

The angst within the four walls of the house caused the rooms to grow smaller. The uneasy anticipation for an ending. It was apparent to the animals that this was in fact their last chance.


The howling grew louder, and then came a knock.

“Open the door!” screeched the wolf, hungrily scratching at the walls.


“No! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin-chin” squealed back Larry, now leaning against the door.


There was a hush.

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and ill blow your house down!” cried the wolf as he began to breath in.


He couldn’t blow down the house.

For a moment the tension eased, until an eerie clawing was heard up upon the roof. The wolves were trying to enter through the chimney. Harry instructed the animals to gather around the fire place in order to attack the wolves as they fell through the chute. They waited patiently as two black furred wolves slid down the chimney. Salivating and snarling, the yellow eyed beasts injected fear and scarred the souls of the surrounding animals. They stood watching the movements of their materialized fear.

Unexpectedly, in a fit of madness, the farm animals lunged forwards and devoured both wolves. Perhaps it was due to the moon. The blood stained the floor and the walls and the pelts of the animals, glorifying the unforeseen victory. This was the end of the war. From then on it was the wolves living in fear of the other animals. The revolution of the ecosystem, all thanks to a house and its three little pigs.



Examiner’s Comments:

Very witty, amusing and sophisticated writing but a few flaws in sentence construction.


Final Grade: 37/40