The Three Little Pigs

Hello my dear Amy’s Garden readers! This is Lydia Tyndall once again. Today I am publishing a story I wrote for my creative writing class at L.C.A. We had to rewrite the story of the three little pigs using first, second, and third person. I decided to do mine in the form of historical documents.

Part One: A tragic page in history

An excerpt from pages 231-233 of the 2019 book A History Of 1988 by Steve Phillips

On June 16 1988, an ugly gray wolf overthrew the U.S. government and named himself king of America. Later that day, Malus the Great as the usurper called himself, ordered that all pigs in his kingdom be immediately butchered, for pigs were the bane of his existence.

The Swine Elimination Act of ‘88 was a tragic page in history. Nearly all of the nation’s pigs were ruthlessly slaughtered, but the three who did survive escaped to a small plot of land in the panhandle of Oklahoma.

Shortly after arriving in Oklahoma, the three pigs found it necessary to build houses for themselves. The first pig was a cowboy from Texas named Billy.  

 “I ain’t lived among nothin’ but straw my whole life, so that’s what I’m gonna build my house out of.” He remarked. In his house of straw, Billy kept a large collection of guitars and banjos, for he was an avid musician. 

The second pig was named Jack. He was a lumberjack from Montana, but unlike many in his trade, was a Shakespeare superfan. Jack chose to build his house out of logs because it reminded him of his beloved past in the Montana forest. The only problem with this plan was that large trees do not grow in Oklahoma, so Jack was forced to substitute his logs for sticks and twigs. Inside this less than ideal home, Jack kept books containing the works of Shakespeare, for the bard was the only source of joy in his life.  Jack spent many hours reciting, memorizing, and performing Shakespeare.  

The third pig was an outsider in the world of swine, because she cared deeply about her appearance. This vain sow was named Doris, and she came from Beverly Hills, California. Doris dressed at the height of 80’s fashion, with poofy bangs and tight-rolled Guess jeans. She was also used to living in a mansion, and would only be happy with a house made of the highest quality material available, so she made her house out of bricks. Inside she had several large mirrors in which she could marvel at her own beauty.

But as these three pigs were rebuilding their lives in Oklahoma, across the nation in Washington D.C., Malus the Great was plotting a scheme to eliminate the final three swine in his domain.

Part two: A musician and a thespian

An excerpt from pages 310-315 of the 2008 book Memories From My Life by Malus the Great

My private jet landed on a grass strip somewhere in the panhandle of Oklahoma. I got out of the plane and it flew away. It would not be back for several hours, giving me plenty of time to carry out my mission of personally eating all three of the pigs who had survived my Swine Elimination Act. 

I started walking through farm fields. It was going to take me a while to reach my destination. Those horrid pigs had picked an awfully remote spot to hide out. It was a three hours walk away from the nearest grass strip.

When I finally reached the pig’s hiding place, I wasted no time, walking up to the first house I saw. From inside the straw building I could hear a pig playing a guitar and singing some sort of depressing country song. I’m not much of a fan of country music and hearing it coming from a pig of all creatures only made me like it less.  I stood up straight and in my most kingly voice announced:

“I, Malus the Great, king of all America, command you to let me into your house!” The music abruptly stopped and the pig shouted a response to my demand. 

“Why if you ain’t Malus the Great, then my name ain’t Billy.” 

“Just let me in, you insolent little pig!”

“Not if my chin hairs have anything to say about it.”

I paused momentarily. “Wait, that doesn’t make any sense,” I said with confusion.

“I know it don’t,” The pig replied

“I was just tryin’ to get you all befuddled.”

“Oh.. Oh.. If you don’t let me in right this minute, I’ll blow your house down!” Without giving the pig a chance to respond, I blew as hard as I could, and that straw house was gone.

The pig stared at me for a moment, then screamed, 

“You ain’t eatin’ me!” and ran away.

Figuring I could catch him later, I moved onto the next house. This one was made of sticks, and this pig seemed to be saying something. I listened closely.

“Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.” I had to admit this pig had superb recitation skills, but talent or not, he had to be eaten. I cleared my throat and demanded entry.

The pig paused his speech and shrieked, “Get out of here you cursed tyrant! You’re even worse than Caesar!!!!!!!” I decided to take this as a compliment. I have always held Caesar in high regard, him being a fellow dictator and all. After taking a moment to appreciate the pig’s kind words, I gave my reply.

“I thank you for your kind remarks, but since you don’t seem to be letting me in, I’m going to blow your house down.”

The pig just chuckled and remarked, “Not even the force of a thousand box fans could harm my humble abode.”

“Well my breath happens to have the power of two thousand box fans!” Sure enough, it was only a matter of seconds before the little house was reduced to a pile of rubble. But to my utter indignation, this pig got away too! I only had one house left. Perhaps this one would bring me better luck.

Part three: The demise of a dictator

An excerpt from a letter to Doris from her biographer Jeff Stevenson. Doris suffered severe memory loss late in life and completely forgot the events of 1988. Mr. Stevenson wrote this letter to remind her.

 I am about to tell you about what is perhaps the most important moment of your life. My heart is broken that you have forgotten it, but that is why I am here, to remind you.

After the abominable Malus the Great had blown down Billy’s home, the poor pig ran to your house to take shelter. 

He banged on your door, and frantically shouted “Doris, let me in quick, I ain’t got much time!” You begrudgingly admitted him, annoyed to be interrupted from teasing your bangs. As you continued trying to make your hair as poofy as possible, Billy told you all the details of the last few minutes. 

Then he started wailing, no longer able to control his emotions. “Doris, what’re we gonna do? I can’t think of nothin’.” 

Without ceasing your hair styling, you sighed “ Billy, do you think you’re maybe being a little over dramatic?” 

Before Billy had a chance to reply, Jack started banging on the door, and after you let him in, joined Billy in wailing. You just rolled your eyes and proceeded in your hair raising efforts. 

It was only a matter of minutes before Malus the Great made his way to your door, demanding that you let him in. 

You sighed, rolled your eyes, and shouted, “Not happening.”

Malus, in a fit of rage, replied, “Then I’ll blow your house down!” You knew he wouldn’t be able to do it, considering your house was made out of sturdy bricks. 

Malus stood there for a very long time, trying in vain to blow down your house. During this time, you went over to your phone and called the closest zoo and told them about your plight. The zookeeper, like most people in the panhandle of Oklahoma, was not particularly fond of Malus the Great, and was more than happy to come try to capture him. He also was in need of a new wolf, for the old one had recently died. 

Due to how remote you were, it took the zookeeper quite a while to reach your house. Once he did arrive it only took him and his team a few minutes to capture Malus the Great. This is mostly because Malus was very exhausted from blowing for so long. The zookeeper hauled away the beast, and Malus spent the rest of his days in the zoo sulking and writing his memoirs.