The True Story of Byron Baker Wolf

Let me start by saying that my name is Byron Baker Wolf. It’s not Big Bad. I hate that nickname. Look at me—do I look that big or bad to you? Think about it. I’m the smallest in my whole pack and the kindest wolf in the entire forest. Big. Bad. It doesn’t even fit me.

That name was given to me after those kids and those pigs lied. The things they claimed I did—I’d never even think about them! They just exploited a bad reputation I already had, just for being a wolf. And because I’m a wolf, everybody believed them. Speciesism. It’s an ugly thing.

So, let me tell you what really happened.

Everything started when I opened my candy store, Sweetastic Treats. Business was great—so great that I had to hire help. That’s when Pork, Ham, and Bacon, the Oink cousins, walked in—three teenage pigs looking for an after-school job.

The first thing I did was give them all an aptitude test. This helped me decide where to put them. Bacon scored high in math, so he went on the register. Pork and Ham worked in the stockroom.

They seemed to be doing very well—until I discovered they were stealing boxes of candy every day. I had to let them go. Needless to say, they were not happy about it.

A week later, I tried to call them and ask them to pick up their final checks, but none of them answered their phones. So, I decided to drop the checks off on my way home. That’s when my world turned upside down.

The wind was strong that day, but I’d walked through worse. I knocked on Ham’s door first. I could hear somebody moving around inside.

“Little pig,” I said. “Open up.”

He replied with something about the hair on his chin. I had no idea what he was talking about. Then a gust of wind blew his house away! Why anyone would build a house out of straw, I’ll never know. Ham was nowhere to be found. I could only assume he got out the back door. There was nothing I could do, so I continued on to Bacon’s house.

Just like with Ham, I knocked on Bacon’s door. His house was a little better—it was made of sticks. Not great, but if done correctly, it could withstand strong winds. Hypothetically.

“Little pig, little pig, let me in.”

“Not by the hair on my chin!” he shouted.

Again with the chin hair! What hair? They were all as smooth as a baby’s bottom.

Just as I was about to tell him about his check, another gust of wind blew his house down. Bacon could not be found. Maybe he was with Ham.

I wasn’t going to go searching for those kids. I had to get home myself. So, I left to give Pork his check. Pork really needed to talk to his cousins—his house was made of brick, built on a foundation over six feet deep. The other two houses were just set on the ground. Pork’s house was beautiful.

I rang the doorbell, and a voice called out,

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“Hello, little pig,” I said. “I have—”

“Mr. Wolf!”

The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by police. They arrested me, charging me with murder and destruction of private property. I had no idea what they were talking about. With the entire town watching, I was forced into the police car and taken away to jail. I could see everyone shaking their heads, already deeming me guilty.

Everybody knew how windy it was that day. They all knew how flimsy those pigs’ houses were. Yet I was accused of—now get this—huffing and puffing and blowing their houses down. Really! Their houses were flimsy, but nobody has that much air in their lungs. I have asthma! I truly couldn’t have done it. They were houses of straw and sticks, not houses of cards. The wind did it.

To make things worse, they claimed I ate the pigs after destroying their homes. I know that’s not typical for a wolf, but I’ve let it be known for years that I’m a vegetarian. Even when I did eat meat, pork was the first thing I gave up. I said that again, but everyone just laughed at me.

The worst part was when Pork and Bacon showed up at the trial—alive and well! Yet I never received an apology. They didn’t even let me go until the next day. By then, my candy store had been looted and vandalized.

Although I was proven innocent, they still called me Big and Bad and told me to leave town. I gathered what I could and left.

Two years and over a thousand miles later, I settled in the small town of Baxter. I dropped the name Wolf and went by Byron Baker. With that, I opened a bakery called Byron Baker-E. It was a witty name, but it caught on, and once again, business was great.

After about three years, I guess my reputation must have followed me to Baxter. Somebody spray-painted the words “Big Bad” on the side of my building in large red letters. Nobody knew (or admitted) who did it.

I didn’t allow this to upset me. I cleaned it up and continued working.

One day, I had an appointment to see Dr. Hood. I was suffering from the symptoms of a sinus infection. She had an office just down the path into Baxter Woods. I had one order for a cake that I had to finish before closing for the day. A young girl named Red was taking it to her grandmother.

Red was a sweet little girl. She had that cuteness factor that makes your heart melt when she looks at you with those large eyes. When she spoke, all I could do was say, “Awww.” I gave her the cake for free and told her to take care of her grandmother. She walked away smiling and skipping into the woods.

After staring for a moment at the cuteness, I closed up shop for the day and left, walking down the path to see Dr. Hood. On the way, I did the worst thing I could have done—I stopped to smell the flowers. I then had a sneezing fit. I couldn’t stop. I felt my face swelling up.

As soon as Dr. Hood saw me, she told me to lie down while she gathered the ingredients for my medication. I had no problem following those instructions. I was feeling awful. I needed the rest.

Unfortunately, Dr. Hood didn’t have everything she needed. As she was leaving out the side door to head to the market, a cute young girl was coming in through the front door. It was Red. I tried to speak to her, but I could only cough.

“Grandma!” she said excitedly. “Are you okay?”

I tried to tell her who I was, but I started sneezing again. She had a basket full of those same flowers I’d smelled on the path.

When Red looked at me, she started talking about my face. She said I had big ears, big eyes, a big nose, and a big mouth. It wasn’t what she said. It was the way she said it. She was obviously teasing me.

“Grandma, what big ears you have!”

“Grandma, what big eyes you have!”

“Grandma, what big hands you have!”

“Grandma, what a big mouth you have!”

If she called me Grandma one more time! That sweet little girl was being mean and rude. I should have made her pay double for that cake.

“Red, that’s not very nice,” I was finally able to say. She screamed. Then she ran out of the house, claiming that I’d eaten her grandmother and was trying to eat her! I couldn’t believe that the girl I thought was so sweet could tell such a slanderous lie.

The next thing I knew, a hunter was coming towards me, trying to cut me open! I jumped out the window and ran back to the bakery. A mob of at least a hundred men was coming after me with clubs and torches. They set fire to the bakery, trying to burn it down with me inside. I ran out the back door and down the road, where I found Dr. Hood. She confirmed that she had gone to get some medication for me. With that, the mob dispersed.

They gave no apology as my bakery continued to burn to the ground. I later found out that it was Red who had painted the words on the side of the bakery. She also started that whole “better to hear, see, smell, and eat you with” rumor. Really, humans are worse than pork. They don’t even smell edible. Gross. But because I’m a wolf, they still believed that I tried to eat Red.

The bakery was gone. I had no home. I had no job. There was nothing left to save. I left town empty-handed and was forced to start over from scratch.

It took 5 years and 2750 miles, but I was able to collect the insurance on the bakery and the candy shop. $2.5 Million. This time, I refused to open any other shop. No candy, no bake goods, nothing. I bought a small home in the woods where I could live quietly and enjoy life. Even then, the reputation of being a “Big Bad Wolf” followed me.

Near my house, there was a beautiful meadow. Every day, the sun would hit the lake at just the right angle. The entire field would seem to glow. Birds of all kinds would play there. There was a stone wall that ran along the edge of the meadow. I could hear the old man tell his grandson to stay away. He said that I was dangerous and would eat him if he came out alone.

Nobody ever tried to get to know me. They always paint me as “bad”. Everywhere I go. If anything happened, I was blamed. Like the time when the cat was sneaking up on the duck and the red bird. All I wanted to do was warn them. But that little kid, Peter, made it look as if I was more dangerous than the cat. What was I going to do?

His grandfather called him to make sure I didn’t get a hold of him. These people never gave me a chance to talk.

Anyway, I was headed back home when Peter climbed up a tree. The cat and the bird were with him. They were part of it. He tossed a rope at me and managed to snag my tail. As he pulled on it, trying to hang me by the tail, I franticly tried to get free. But he left me there, humiliated, like I was a trophy to a sport he won. Everyone in town saw that Peter caught “The Big Bad Wolf.”

Even more humiliating was when the hunters came to take me away. I had no idea what they were going to do. I couldn’t see anything. I feared the worst. But when they let me go, I was here. These woods are more spacious and beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen. Far away from those with low opinions of wolves. Away from speciesism and lying humans and pigs. I have a wonderful home. I now have a beautiful wife. And I’ve been happier ever since.

If you enjoyed my story, you should hear the story the three bears told.