One day, three young pig brothers from humble beginnings decided it was time to leave and seek their fortunes in the world. And, thinking they had been educated in the best education system in the world, with the best standard of living and with an unsurpassed level of freedom, they set out in different directions to make their marks.
The first little pig was the nicest little fellow you could ever want to meet. Unfortunately, this little pig had somehow fallen through the cracks of the porcine education system and had no clue how to go about starting a life for himself. For a while he joined up with a troupe of traveling flute-playing pigs, but that didn't work out after they infuriated a crowd of Alaskan Mamma Bears. After his narrow escape from that fiasco, he decided he needed help getting settled into a real life and went to the hogs over at the Bureau for the Welfare of Pigs. They set him up with a house--not a great house, it was made out of straw--and a cushy little stipend in order to tide him over until he could figure things out on his own. Every once in a while he took a part-time or temporary job, but nothing ever lasted. His heart wasn't in it. And besides, when he didn't work, he got paid more by the BWP and he didn't have to do anything except have his friend fill out some paperwork for him (he couldn't read very well, even though he graduated from high school). He wasn't happy, per se, but he was glad enough that he had finally "made it" in the world.
The second little pig was a bit more motivated than the first. But luck and time weren't as kind to this little porker as he had hoped. Things weren't bad--far from it--but he knew they could be better. He bought a wooden house, got a job and climbed the ladder, as it were, before hitting the eventual middle-class ceiling. Investment! He thought. That's how I can get ahead. And he did--for a while, anyway. But that's where luck came into play--the bad kind of luck, almost the worst kind. All's not lost, he told himself reassuringly, but he was kidding himself and in his mind fear and uncertainty festered. Eventually, he took out a second mortgage on the stick house. "Don't worry" the banker told him "You'll be fine. And besides, the law requires me to grant you this loan." Well, he wasn't fine. He lost the job he had for almost 10 years and money became as scarce as caviar suet. He tried to keep his chin up. But the bankers were calling and time...well time does what it does: it runs out.
The third little pig was a merry good fellow. And why wouldn't he be? He was a success! He started out slow, yeah, but hard work and resiliency were finally starting to pay off. Sure, he'd had his share of failures...big ones! That's what he learned through life in the world: big risks lead to colossal rewards as well as titanic failures. But nothing stopped him. He tried and tried and tried. After about ten years of trying, he felt as if he'd finally beaten the game. He built himself his dream house in the Hamptons. It was a solid, beautiful, brick structure complete with all the modern amenities...including a hot tub, a Foosball table and yeah, a fireplace. You could say life was good for pig number three, but it wasn't done. Not by a long shot. The third pig was a benevolent character, you know, he offered money and even a job to the second little pig, but was refused. Pride maybe? Thought the third little pig. Well, that can be a good thing, I guess. He offered money and a job to the first little pig as well. The first little pig took the money and said he'd take the job "next week". It was always "next week". At any rate, the third little pig had done well in the world.
Suffice it to say, one day about ten years after the pigs had left to enter the world, a stranger came into town: The Big, Bad Wolf.
He stopped first at the straw house and called out its inhabitant.
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in!"
"No fucking way!" Replied the first little pig.
"Little pig, don't worry! I'm not here to eat you! I see your plight, and the plight of others like you and I'm here to help you foster in an era of fundamental transformation of this society!"
There was a slight pause--long enough for an eye to be batted. And then...
"In that case...OK!"
And the first little pig came out to meet the wolf.
Then the wolf took the first little pig and arm-in-arm they marched down the street to the second little pig's house of sticks (which was kind of falling apart at this point).
"Little pig, little pig let us come in!" They yelled.
"Brother?" Replied the second little pig in a whimper, "What are you doing with that wolf?"
"Fear not my brother! We're working together for the greater good!"
"Well...I don't know..." The second little pig was a bit apprehensive--until the wolf started speaking.
"Little pig! You are oppressed! You are a victim of a society that harms you! Why, look at your brother's house down the street! It is plush and solid and he has Foosball for crying out loud! It's not your fault he got lucky and you struck out! Some of that should be yours!"
And that was all it took. Now all three were marching in the street toward the third pig's house.
When they got there, they had somehow acquired pitchforks and torches (I dunno...it's a fairy tale, these things happen). And they stood in the yard of the third little pig chanting and yelling for him to come out. Well, the third little pig was no dummy. He knew what was happening. Time to pay the piper--and after all he'd done to try to help these little hogs. One thing was for sure: he wasn't going without a fight. So when they yelled:
"Little pig, little pig, let us come in!"
He did nothing.
That's right, he ignored them. They'll go away after they grow tired of trying to blow this house down. Sure, he looked at the gun closet and thought about opening it and pulling out his threaded barreled, semi-automatic AR-15 carbine with flash suppressor and laser sight to make pork chops out of his brothers, but he declined. They'll come to their senses and go away.
But they did not go away. The grew louder and more obnoxious. Finally, at about three o'clock in the morning, the third little pig had to respond. He opened his bedroom window and looked down on the trespassers
"What exactly is it you want?" He asked them
"We want justice!" Blurted out one of his brothers--but the wolf silenced him with a wave.
"Little pig, little pig, let us come in." Said the wolf, calmly.
"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin." Came the melodic reply.
"Then we'll huff and we'll--" The wolf stopped mid-sentence...
"Then we'll huff and we'll--hang on a second." The wolf reached into a sack attached to a stick he'd been carrying around and pulled out two teleprompters on stands (don't ask how they fit in the sack--it's STILL a fairy tale...)
The third little pig rolled his eyes, rested his weary piggy face on his little piggy hand and waited for the wolf to set up his get up.
"Ahem." The wolf cleared his throat before continuing. "Then we'll huff and we'll puff and we'll-"
"Blow my house in?" The third pig interjected sleepily. "I've heard it all before."
Well, this interruption infuriated the wolf who had known all along that they could never get that third little pig out of the house to join their crusade.
"That's it fellas." He said to his portly cohorts. "On the roof! We're goin' in!"
And up they went. The third little pig, fearing for his life, quickly lit a fire in the fireplace and stoked it as hot as it could get, just in case they tried to come down the chimney--which they eventually did. Down they came, all at once. Blam, Blam, Blam! The wolf seized the third little pig before he could reach his gun. The first little pig shook his fist and yelled angry things at his more successful brother. The second little pig made no noise at all. He was dead. Burned up in the boiling hot water in the kettle. "I smell dinner!" Yelled the Big bad wolf. "Yum!"
The first and third little pig sat there, dejected, as the Big Bad Wolf finished his meal. The first little pig knew he had been "snookered". The third little pig was just plain saddened.
"Alright, that's enough of this sulking around." Said the wolf to the third little pig. "Get outta here, go live in your brothers wooden house. And be happy I don't eat you, too." The third little pig moped slowly out of the house he had built and headed for the stick house of his brother.
"What about me?" said the first little pig with a smile. Certainly he expected to get something out of this.
"You?" asked the wolf snarkily while wiping his furry chin with the tablecloth. "You get outta here, you get NOTHING!" The wolf yelled the last word so loudly, the furniture in the house vibrated and slid across the floor.
"Nothing?" The first little pig asked timidly.
"Well..." Thought the wolf momentarily, "alright, take the Foosball table."
And so the first little pig dragged the table down the street, past the dying flames of torches, past the disheveled third brother who stared at him with sad eyes from the stick house and then finally, to the straw house, where he would live out his days, betrayed, victimized and ostracized.
But hey, Foosball's fun, right?
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