The REAL Story of the Three Little Pigs

I guess you think you know this story.

You don't. The real one's much more gory.

R. Dahl

Once upon a time, there was a pig, and she had three piglets. They were called Oops, Whoops and Daisy.

You may have heard that pigs are actually quite clean and clever creatures. Unfortunately, the sow was not clean or clever. She lived up to all the ugly old stereotypes: large, lazy, dirty, selfish, and smelly. Most of all, she was stupid.

One day, she turned to her piglets and told them,

"It's time for you to seek your fortunes, little ones, and make your own way in the world."

A moment later, "Did you hear me? This sty isn't big enough for the four of us. Get out! Go on. Move!"

She was not what you might call a natural mother.

The three piglings scrambled out of the way of her rough snout, out of the sty, and down the lane to the Big Gate. They were going to do exactly as she had suggested and make their own way in the world. This meant leaving The Farm, maybe forever.

They set their trotters to the country road, which meandered gently without too much bothersome sloping. A long rutted S, snaking to the left and looping round generously to the right, and so on, all the way to the horizon. A picturesque scene. The countryside inclining gently, a patchwork of green and gold fields, and sparrow-filled hedgerows under a blue sky. It didn't smell as pretty as it looked, but for a group of young pigs, this was, if anything, another facet to a bright day for fortune-seeking.

Oops was technically the eldest, but not the cleverest, nor the boldest. His was a shuffling pace, and he glanced uneasily from side to side, startling at shadows. He was a bit jealous of his younger brother Whoops, whom he would consider something of an intellectual if he knew what the word meant.

Whoops was the master of multi-tasking, capable as he was of chewing gum (an old piece peeled from the Big Gate) and listening to his walkman at the same time. (He's doing that right now. He's a very modern pig-about-town.) He was also breathing, walking, smirking and carrying his snout high in the air. See? There's no end to his talents.

Daisy was the youngest, cleverest and most hygenic of the three. She knew everything a pig can know, including the two-times table, and more.

After they'd walked a little way, there was a rumble in the distance. The brothers stretched up on their tip-trotters to see what was coming. Oops squinted with his piggy little eyes and could just make out a lorry, piled high with bales of straw.

Something is happening inside Oops' swine-brain. Something that has not happened before. It's as if something is sparking. A neuron is trying to fire. He whispers urgently to his brother who nods in reply. They take their hankies off their heads, tie them around their faces, and head towards the oncoming lorry with purpose, waving their trotters in the air.

Daisy sighed and watched the scene unfold. She would have folded her front legs if her pig-body had allowed for such a gesture.

Fortunately, the driver of the lorry saw the brothers in plenty of time and applied the brakes.

"What the..." He leaned forward over the steering wheel staring at the two half-grown pigs, who were wearing makeshift masks and gesturing at him threateningly. He leaned out of his window and shouted,

"Oy! Move!"

One of them scampered away, towards the back of the truck. The other continued to shout,

"That's right you son of a mother, this is a hold up! Stay right where you are!"

The driver muttered, "sod this for a lark," and revved his engine. Whoops leapt out of the way just in time, adding Agility, Intimidation and Excellent Timing to his laundry list of admirable qualities. As the dust and exhaust fumes cleared, Oops could be seen grinning amongst a small stack of straw bales and giving his little brother a triumphant double-trotters-up.

Oops chose a nearby spot to start building his house, which will be very sturdy, I'm sure, and now we move along with our tale just as Whoops and Daisy moved along the looping country road. Are you watching them, in your mind's eye? Good.

Shortly, they heard another loud noise. It was chainsaws this time. Daisy watched Whoops swipe a pair of ear-defenders, and, whistling, assimilate himself into the group of people clearing the trees from this area. As well as a pig can assimilate himself in a bunch of human beings, anyway. Which is - no offence to the noble professions of tree surgeons, woodcutters, lumberjacks, and other arboreal menial labourers - better than you might think.

Whoops managed to snaffle plenty of debris, which probably would have been discarded anyway, and hid it out of sight among the untouched trees. He did all this with an air of supreme nonchalance, and considered himself Very Clever.

When the human people packed up their equipment and drove away, and the little birds returned to what is now quite a large and ugly clearing, Whoops sidled back across the treeline and started building his house. It's going to have "THE STICKY CRIB" nailed above the front door. If he can find some nails. And a trotter-friendly hammer. Or maybe "PiGs DiGs". Just wait 'til you see it.

Daisy was a wise she-pig. She played the long game. She found a job in town, and paid a local builder to build her a proper house. With the proper materials. Ie. bricks.

She allowed herself a moment of victorious femininity, twirling in her homely new lodgings, in an expansive porcine gesture of appreciation.

Unbeknownst to her, way down the country road, a lone and hungry wolf was eye-ing the igloo built of straw. It - the house, not the wolf - was expertly built, considering it had been done by a mammal with no opposable thumbs.

It was not, as you might have guessed, as robust as you might hope. Not when there was a bleeding great carnivore slavering outside and thinking of bacon and ham.

The beast was truly fearsome looking - huge teeth, black and silver fur, and hunger has given him an extra sharp glint in his eyes. You can't tell how skinny he is because of the thickness of his coat, but there is no mistaking his intent.

You've heard the tale before, and now you are expecting him to say, "Little pig, little pig, let me come in!" Let me disabuse you ("cure" you, if you like) of this notion. Pigs can carry out a hold-up and build houses, okay, fine, but wolves are not cats, who like to play with their food. They are also not vampires who need permission to enter a property.

Not when the boundary between the inside and the outside of this particular dwelling presented almost no boundary at all, and especially not to an able-bodied, if thin, animal like Derek. (That's what his friends call him. Or they would, if he had any. He is a Lone Wolf.) He burst through the wall, an explosion of teeth and fur and hunger. I'm afraid it would have been curtains for Oops right then if he hadn't chosen to snooze under a cosy pile of straw. This meant the wolf didn't see him straight away, and his attack was delayed by moments. Just long enough - only just, mind - for Oops to barrel out of the window-hole just above his head and flee. His flight really earned the italics. His timid nature had him up and running before he was fully awake, and most certainly before his brain kicked in (not a lot of competition there, let's be honest). Picture it: his pork legs pumping wildly and a rictus of terror on his face. Poor Oops!

He hammered on Whoop's door, dislodging the crudely made sign which read "Come On In Bro, Hope You STICK Around" (Humour being yet another of Whoops' qualities).

Whoops taking too long to saunter to the door, Oops barged in anyway - the door being, as it was, more a loose bundle of sticks that needed to be moved aside.

There followed a short argument: Oops begged sanctuary (except he didn't use the word "sanctuary"; he was allergic to words with more than three syllables, they gave him indigestion) and Whoops responded that since there was no door they were both [rude word], because Oops had led the [rude word] wolf straight to his home, so they'd both better [rude word] off.

This brief interlude had allowed Derek to catch up, and Oops was still wheezing for breath, his panic-stricken dash having taken all the energy in his runty little body. But there was no help for it; the wolf was getting closer with every second. Famine loaned wings to his paws, which were eating up the distance much the way he was hoping to eat up the two little pigs.

They made a break for it, and ran. Whoops was faster, being fresh, and I'd love to tell you that he exhibited extreme Bravery, Heroism, and a "no-pig-left-behind" attitude. Alas, not the case. He was intent on saving his own pig-skin, and the distance between them grew.

I'll not bore you with Oops' final moments. I don't think the children's story included the entrails either, so I feel justified in leaving them out.

He constituted barely a snack, which Derek polished off right there at the roadside. Then he set his nose to the (quite considerable) scent-path left by other pig, heart (or rather stomach) set on his second course.

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Whoops banged on Daisy's (properly-made) front door, practically weeping in fright and desperation. I'd say he was widdling himself, but he'd already done that. Of course his sister let him in, and he told her all about what happened. He wasn't as generous about leaving out the viscera, and he embellished his own heroism somewhat, but he can't completely help that; his character has been written that way.

In spite of his fear, Daisy remained calm. This is much easier to do when you have sturdy walls between you and the thing that wants to gnaw your legs off and suck the marrow from your bones. But let's not forget, those four walls did not happen by accident. They are a monument to her sensible thinking and foresight.

Daisy had in fact just done a Big Shop, so she had enough food in her cupboards to last her for about one week. If Whoops really paced himself and rationed carefully, it was enough to last him about twenty minutes. This must be dealt with decisively, then, she thought. (And she really did think "decisively", she rarely entertained a sentence that didn't have a word in it with at least three syllables.)

"He doesn't want to eat us," she reasoned, reasonably. "He just wants to eat. We will give him some food and he will go away."

"Rude-word that!" Whoops was hopping up and down in excitement, and waving his trotters about. "We need a gun, that's what we need!"

Daisy gave him an eloquent look which said, "Don't be stupid", "Where would you get one", and "Puh-lease!" all at once, before moving on as if he hadn't spoken.

"Wolves are social and intelligent creatures who value family," she said. "I'm sure once he has been fed, we will be able to come to an arrangement. Like Great Aunt Emily said, Feed the Brute."

Whoops looked confused. "Wasn't she talking about, you know, getting married and that?"

Daisy was firm. "The same principal applies," she said, and she would brook no argument.

+++++++

They didn't have to wait long. Soon, they could hear claws scrabbling at the front door, then the back, the side, French doors and bay windows.

"Little pigs," Derek wheedled, "little pigs, let me-"

"Rude-word off!" shouted Whoops.

Daisy elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Shut up!" she hissed. Louder, she continued, "Excuse me, Mr Wolf, sir? Could you come to the kitchen window please. I have made you something to eat." She pushed the bowl out on to the sill, and closed the window again pretty darn quick. She was kind, but she was not stupid.

Derek, not to put too fine a point on it, wolfed the meal down. It was just scraps really, but it had been a long time since he'd eaten anything, what with deforestation and human beings killing so much wildlife and clearing away their habitat.

While he devoured his second bowlful, Daisy went through the finer points of immediate vs delayed gratification, and eventually, a deal was struck.

+++++++

Daisy went on to fully domesticate Derek. Whoops did not feel comfortable living in close proximity to a predator, and eventually moved out. However, he was wanted by the Law (did you see how I avoided calling them Pigs, there) for holding up that lorry, so he ran away to join the Foreign Legion.

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