Pigs in Blankets

In a little cottage made of stones, there lives a Mummy Pig and her only piglet Percy. Each night, Mummy Pig tells her child a bedtime story.  This night was no different from any other night. Percy was tucked up tightly, and raptly listens as she begins tonight’s tale.

“The Three Little Pigs: Penny, Paul and Peter, all leave their Mummy behind to build their own houses outside the village. They bought their materials at the market and skipped down to the forest and got building. Penny built her house from straw. Paul built his house from sticks, whilst Peter built his from bricks. He was always the smarter one. They built them up, and were happy for a while. They didn’t even send their Mummy a letter, and were blissfully unaware of the Big Bad Wolf stalking around…”

 “Like the Big Bad Wolf who gobbled up Little Red Riding Hood?” Percy pipes up.

“The exact one!” Mummy’s eyes widened. “The Big Bad Wolf was HUNGRY! So he went to the first little house, and banged the door. Little pig, little pig, let me come in, he said. Not by the hairs of my chinny chin! Penny cried. So the Wolf huffed, and puffed and blew her house down, and then ate her alive!”

The piglet gasps. “Ate her alive?”

Mummy nodded, “And then he went to the house of twigs. Little pig, little pig, let me come in! the wolf shouted. Not by the hairs of my chinny chin! So the Wolf huffed, and puffed, and blew his house down. Paul was a fast runner, but he couldn’t outrun the wolf! And he…”

“He didn’t… eat him alive, did he?” Percy stammers.

“Yes, of course he did. The wolf was too hungry to wait for them to cook!”

Percy squealed, but Mummy Pig was unphased, and continued her story, quickening her pace! “And then he got to the house of bricks, where Peter lived, and he tried his usual huffing and puffing routine but it didn’t work on the little brick house. Peter was always a little smart arse. He could hear the Wolf coming from miles away and knew he’d come down the chimney. But as the pot boiled, he could see the Wolf circling around the house. What was he doing that for, Percy?”

“I don’t know…”  Percy snuffled, choked up with tears.

“Because he thought he was so smart, didn’t he Percy? He placed all the straw and twigs from the other houses all around the edges and then doused it all with petrol before throwing a lit match onto it. Peter Pig was burned to a crisp! The Wolf smiled as he watched the brick house burn to the ground…”

Percy couldn’t even utter a word of disapproval. He loved his Mummy. But this story made him so upset and scared.

“Those little piggies had the gaul to leave their poor mother without even a letter! You’re not going to be like those little piggies, are you Percy?”

Percy shook his head. “No, Mummy.”

“You’re always going to stay with Mummy, aren’t you Percy?”

Percy nodded, “Yes, Mummy.”

“Good.” Mummy Pig smiled, as she kissed her piglet on the forehead. “Goodnight, Percy.”

“Goodnight Mummy.” He whimpered.

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