For whatever reason, the story of The Three Little Pigs has been on my mind tonight.
You know how it goes. Once upon a time, blah, blah, blah, three little pigs. First, I want to know just how little those pigs might be. Are they just babies, or miniatures, or little freaks of nature?
I never quite understood the story though. I never got the lesson. Two of the pigs dreamt of having homes. So one constructed hers with sticks, the other guy used straw. Nice Tiki Hut looking homes. Roomy. Three and a half baths. Galley kitchens. Recessed lighting. All of it. They worked hard and there it was. A straw home, and a home built of sticks.
Then the bad guy comes along, in the form of a wolf. This is skewed right off the bat. Wolves are amazing animals, in so many ways. And in ALL my days, in ALL the time I was being raised by wolves, I never once saw one wolf, huff, and puff, and blow anything. Including birthday candles on their cakes. (They sort of spit a little on their paws and snuff the candles out.) Anyway.
The big bad wolf comes along and blows those houses down. Kablooey.
So the story goes…. .. they congregate in the third pigs home. A brick ranch, by the way. Only one bathroom, which is problematic with three pigs. Especially when the wolf comes by to huff and puff.
Of course, the wolf fails on his third melee. His bad intentions only destroyed two pigs’ dreams. But in the end, the three of them hang out in the brick place and play cribbage while sipping on pink lemonade.
So what’s the big message? Bad people can destroy some of us? Or…. we should rely on our friends for help? Or having personal taste in straw and sticks will be our ultimate demise?
I don’t know. Sometimes, the moral of the story just doesn’t fall into place. Perhaps those pigs should have taken karate lessons, or something. That way, when trouble was in their midst…. they could have used a pork chop.
Or…they could have moved to Colorado, and smoked some marijuana, to forget their problems. It would have been just like living high on the hog.
And, if in the end, the moral of the story, didn’t add up, they could have boarded a plane. Things might make sense, when pigs fly.