"The Three Little Pigs" - Retold Fiction

This piece was originally a high school English assignment of mine, in which I had to retell the beginning of "The Three Little Pigs". I had such fun putting together the beginning that, once I turned in the assignment, I had to finish writing my version of the story. There isn't much that makes it wildly different from other versions of the tale, but hopefully this rendition awakens in you a fresh appreciation for this classic fable.

Once upon a time, there were three young pigs named Porky, Bacon, and Ham. They had lived with their mother, Sue, their entire lives, but as they got older, their house became more and more crowded. After an extensive discussion among the three, the pigs decided it was time to move out. They weren’t shoats anymore. Porky and Bacon, the impulsive ones, rapidly grew impatient with their circumstances.

“I can’t stand sharing a room with you two anymore! I might as well build my own house,” said Porky.

“I agree,” Bacon added. “I want my own house, too.”

Ham was the quiet one of the family, who observed small details more often than Porky and Bacon did. It was true-- they were losing room in their little home. Mother was always cleaning up after their dirty hooves and muddy snouts. She deserved to regain some personal space. But he knew, before venturing out on their own, there were a lot of things to consider in building a house. Location? HVAC? Siding? Flooring? Ham went straight to planning. He gathered some blank blueprints and began to draw diagrams of his new place. It was going to be perfect.

After some not-so-hard contemplation, Bacon announced, “I’ve got it! I’ll build my house out of sticks!”

“Sticks?” asked Porky and Ham.

“Yes! Sticks! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. They’re easy to build with, readily available-- my house will be a wooded wonder.”

“Well,” Porky said arrogantly. “I will be using straw.” He folded his hooves across his belly.

“Straw?” asked Bacon and Ham.

“Yes! Straw. It’s flexible, strong when you weave it together, and it will most definitely shield me from the rain-- unlike sticks.” Bacon grunted offendedly.

Ham rolled his eyes.“Have either of you thought about the rest of your house? You’ll need other materials to help you live comfortably, of course.”

“Nonsense!” said Porky. “We’ll each take a few things from Mother’s to put in our houses and eventually fill in the rest. It’ll be swell.” Bacon nodded in agreement. What flighty loyalties he had.

“Oh? Have either of you thought of the wolf that comes out at night? Will your houses be safe?” Surely mention of the wolf would make them stop and think.

“Nonsense!” said Bacon. “The wolf won’t be able to penetrate our superior construction when we’re finished. You’ll see.”

Ham shook his head in disappointment. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The next morning, bright and late, Porky and Bacon got right to work. Porky gathered his sticks from the woods and Bacon, his straw from the nearby field. Ham, who was up at the crack of dawn, had gathered the necessary materials to build his sturdy brick fortress and was diligently working away.

Upon finishing his beautifully sturdy creation around dusk, Ham took a stroll down the street to unwind and visit his brothers who had each finished their constructions within a short couple of hours. Porky was reclining in his house of sticks, being careful not to touch the drafty walls of his new abode.

“How did it go, Porky?” asked Ham. Porky placed his half-empty glass of lemonade next to him.

“Oh, it went absolutely swimmingly!” he answered, cautious to hide his bluff. A soft wind came by, rattling the sticks until it ceased to blow. “It’s a place I could get used to, no doubt.”

“Glad you like it. Have a good night!” Ham continued walking along to Bacon’s.

When he arrived, Bacon was carefully tucking straw ends into his entwined hut. Ham noticed that with every wisp of the breeze that came along, more straw ends popped out of hiding.

“How’s it going, Bacon?”

“Oh, it’s going wonderfully, Ham! Finished earlier this afternoon,” he said.

“Looks like you missed a few spots.”

“Oh yes, well, it’ll dry out in the sun over time and be less troublesome.” He hurried over to tend a spot on the roof, tucking yet another end back in its place. “And, between you and me,” he whispered, cupping his front hooves around his mouth. “I think mine is better than Porky’s.”

Ham nodded in feigned agreement. “Ah, I see.”

“I noticed you were quite busy all day today. How is yours going? You know, if it isn’t finished yet you’re welcome to stay here.”

“Thanks for the offer, but it’s actually all finished and it went very well. I’m thoroughly exhausted, so I think I’ll hit the hay for the night. Nice to see you!”

“Goodnight! Maybe we could plan dinner tomorrow or something?” he called to his brother as he walked away. Bacon noticed Ham’s house as he peered down the street. It looked much better than his. He shrugged his shoulders and tucked his doubt in between the growing number of loose straw ends.

Late that night, while all the pigs enjoyed their first sleep in their new homes, the wolf that Ham spoke of peeked out of his hole, eager to roam the town. He walked menacingly along the street and glared into the first house he saw. It seemed to be made of sticks and looked terribly weak. It was one of those stupid little pig triplets inside.

“Little pig! Little pig! Let me in!” He cried.

Porky awakened quickly and shuddered in fear. “No! Never!”

“Then I’ll huff, and puff, and blow your house down!” Porky was frozen in fear. He could only hope his house would withstand the blow. The wolf’s breath thundered around the structure and the sticks tumbled down on top of him. He immediately ran to Bacon’s straw house. Thankfully the door was open.

“What’s the meaning of this Porky?” He dusted off the straw from his ears. “I’m trying to sleep here!”

“The wolf, Bacon! The wolf!”

“Good hoovens!”

The two pigs huddled on the floor, panting rapidly. To their dismay, the wolf appeared in front of the house and was delighted to find, not just one, but two pathetic pigs. He growled once again, “Little pigs! Little pigs! Let me in!”

“No! Never!” they replied, clutching each other tightly.

“Then I’ll huff, and puff, and blow your house down!” The pigs winced, trying to maintain their faith in Bacon’s flimsy straw.

The wolf blew, and all at once, every single end of straw came fluttering out of place. Thousands of needles sprinkled to the ground. Porky and Bacon shrieked as they got up and ran to their last hope: Ham’s house.

Ham was sleeping soundly, snuggled in front of his fireplace, when he heard wild stomping and squealing at the door. In a flash, he awoke and ran to answer.

“Who is it? What’s the matter?” he called, from inside.

“Ham! Please! Let us in! It’s the wolf!” shouted Porky.

Opening the curtain of his front window, he was unsurprised to find the wolf fast approaching and dangerously close.

“I can’t! I won’t be able to let you in fast enough! In two oinks he’ll be on us!”

“Can’t you let us in through the back or something? Please Ham!!” Bacon begged.

“I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you two. There’s nothing I can do.”