The Pigs and Wolf

by JJ Wilson

Once upon a time, there lived Mama Pig with her three piglets. Her husband had died not long after Youngest Pig was born, leaving Mama Pig to raise the three boys on her own. She took care of them as best she could, singing them lullabies, playing with them, teaching them, and the like. Mama Pig was always sure to keep her kids safe from the dangers of the world—especially wolves.

As time passed, food became more and more difficult to acquire. The older they got, the more they needed to eat. Seeing as they were now all adults, she one by one sent them out into the world to start their independence. With this, she gave them each a gift: a watch for Eldest Pig, glasses for Second Pig, and a brown knit vest for Youngest Pig. Mama Pig even got herself a pearl necklace.

Every so often, when the pigs missed their mother, they’d meet up and spend the day together. They’d dance, laugh, sing, and enjoy a meal before parting ways.

Unbeknownst to the pigs, someplace nearby was a wolf, who always watched as the family dispersed from their annual gatherings, who had been watching them since the very beginning.

He remembered when they were small, when he was small, too, when Mama Pig looked at him—not like a playmate, not like a friend—but like a monster crouched too close to her children.

Mama Pig turned to go back inside, reaching for the door—but before it could click shut, a large paw pressed against it, holding it open. She froze, her eyes snapping up. There he was, tall now, lanky and gaunt with hunger—but not of starvation.

“Do you remember me, Mama?” Wolf asked.

Mama Pig’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She trembled as he invited himself in, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight.

“You do, don’t you?” he said, glancing around the house. It was just as neat and warm as it looked from the outside, and it smelled just how he thought it would. His eyes drifted to a pan of cherry pie, four small dirty plates sitting next to it catching his attention. The number four had always been a painful reminder to Wolf that he was different, and everything in the house came in fours.

Wolf’s eyes bounced off one set of four to the next and the next. Four cups and bowls, four knives and forks. Four blankets and pillows, four portraits of the pigs, each with a smile.

Two is company, three’s a crowd, four is even, and five’s not allowed!

Wolf imagined the pig’s singing that phrase as a way to taunt him so often that he eventually convinced himself they had. Even now, as he stood in this familiar yet unfamiliar home, he had to crane his neck, for he was too tall. The ceiling pushed down on his ears, and his back had already begun to ache.

Four is even, and five’s not allowed.

He had always been too big.
He had always been too bad.
He had always been an outcast.
He had always been different.
He would always be a predator.

“You remember when I was just a pup? When I tried to play with them? When I smiled—tail wagging—and you pulled them away like I’d bared my teeth?” Wolf’s eyes flicked to hers. “I used to sit at the edge of the woods and listen to the lullabies you sang. I memorized the words. I tried to hum along.” His voice broke. “I thought if I learned your songs, maybe you’d let me in.”

Mama Pig shook her head, trying to reason with him. “Wolf, it’s . . . it’s been years since then. Why . . . do you hold a grudge even still?”

Wolf frowned. “Time passing isn’t an apology.”

“Please,” Mama Pig finally started to plead, clutching her pearls. “Spare me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Mama.” He tilted his head, eyes wide and glistening. “I just want to eat you.”

Wolf’s jaw tore into Mama Pig’s flesh as he tackled her to the ground. With each bite, he felt closer and closer to her. She screamed and screamed until she didn’t, only the sounds of Wolf’s savage eating filling the space. Her crimson blood coated his snout, his pupils dilated, and his breathing heavy. With delicate paws, he took the pearls from her neck and placed them around his—a piece of Mama Pig to keep with him forever.

Wolf slowly stood and walked out the door, making his way to Youngest Pig’s home.

Youngest Pig couldn’t be bothered to move very far. He lived at the edge of the woods near Mama Pig, his home a pathetic hut made of straw, just enough to keep the cold at bay.

Wolf stood in front of Youngest Pig’s home. Gently, he called, “Youngest Pig? Will you let me come in?”

Youngest Pig, lying on a straw bed, cracked an eye open and looked toward the door. “Who is it?”

“Your very best friend,” Wolf said with a smile while tracing Mama Pig’s necklace, “Wolf.”

Youngest Pig snorted. “Wolf? I don’t make friends with predators.” From where he lay, he blew raspberries, then sung “Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!”

Wolf whimpered and took a step back.

“Then I’ll huff,”

He took another.

“And I’ll puff,”

Youngest Pig closed his eyes, thinking Wolf was taking his leave.

“And blow your house in.”

Wolf’s breath swept through the straw house with a force so fierce yet eerily delicate, as if extinguishing a candle with a single, chilling exhale. When the straw had blown away, all Youngest Pig could think was he had to run. And run he tried, but did not make it more than a few steps before Wolf caught him. Wolf pressed Youngest Pig’s back against his chest as he held him tight.

“Don’t leave,” Wolf begged, squeezing Youngest Pig in his arms. He dug his nails into and ripped his skin the harder he held him, but made sure not to ruin his knit vest. “Don’t run. Not again.”

Youngest Pig shivered despite Wolf’s warm embrace. “Let go,” he says in a strangled voice.

“When we were kids, you cried wolf, so I came running,” Wolf recalled, squeezing Youngest Pig tighter. “As I saw the look on your face, I couldn’t help but wonder, is my smile too sharp or just my teeth? Am I friend or foe? Am I just as big and bad as everyone said I was, despite being a pup?” Wolf couldn’t help the growl that began to bubble in his throat, bearing his teeth. “I was just a boy.”

“You can eat me,” Youngest Pig started in a shaky voice, “but leave my brothers alone.”

Drool dripped from Wolf’s mouth and onto Youngest Pig’s head. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, already biting down on Youngest Pig’s crown. His voice was muffled as he spoke. “I need to take a bite out of everything I love.”

Wolf ripped Youngest Pig’s head clean off his shoulders, then ate his throat and hollowed out his body. The inside of his skin was so warm that Wolf didn’t want to take his head out, and the thought of suffocating in such an embrace brought him comfort. But reluctantly, he did. He slipped Youngest Pig’s vest off his fleshy body and onto his furry one. Finding a nearby pond, Wolf washed his face and paws of all the blood.

He then made his way to Second Pig’s home.

Second Pig lived in a nearby meadow. When making it, he’d gathered sticks on his way and built a solid home. It had small windows and a pointed roof.

Wolf lightly knocked on the door. “Second Pig? Will you let me come in?”

“No,” Second Pig quickly replied, his voice panicked.

Wolf tilted his head curiously. “But why? The sun is beginning to set; it surely will be cold tonight. I have no home to return to.”

“Get away!” Second Pig shouted. “I saw what you did to Youngest Pig!”

Wolf fell silent, ominously so that it almost felt loud. Second Pig wanted to believe he had done just as he ordered.

Wolf’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You saw?”

“I just wanted to play with Youngest Pig like always. Instead, I caught you outside his home and watched as you murdered him!”

“Don’t be afraid,” Wolf reassured. “You’ll be with him soon. And Mama too.”

When the door began to rattle, Second Pig knew he was in danger of death.

“Little pig,” Wolf’s voice was more stern this time. “Let me come in.”

And just like his brother, he cried, “Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!”

The rattling intensified. “Let me in!” Wolf loudly demanded from the other side. “Let me in, little pig!”

“Get away from me!” Second Pig screamed.

With one harsh BANG, Wolf knocked the door off its hinges and entered the house. He wasted no time pinning Second Pig to the ground and going to take a bite of him. The pig struggled in his grasp, moving about in a way that made it hard for Wolf to hurt him. While doing so, Second Pig’s glasses fell from his face and onto the ground.

“Why do you resist me? Why don’t you love me? I’m so gentle with you, so why aren’t you with me?” Wolf asked, his voice strained and hurt while continuing to try and eat Second Pig, who was successfully avoiding. The more he dodged the more irritated Wolf became.

“Gentle? Are you out of your mind?!” Second Pig wailed as he continued to oppose. “You killed my brother and mother! You’re anything but gentle–you’re violent!”

“Do you understand the violence it took to become this gentle?!” Wolf howled, tears dripping from his eyes to his snout and onto Second Pig’s face. For a wolf so adept at killing, his eyes were remarkably soft. Shaking claws and trembling teeth; Second Pig wanted to believe Wolf did not mean to be cruel.

Second Pig asked, horrified, “Why do you say the things you say if you do the things you do?”

“Predators don’t get to be loved—I don’t get to be loved. I have to take it,” Wolf cried out, voice wobbly. “Mama never offered it, and neither did you or your brothers. So I’ll take what you wouldn’t give. I’ll take it the only way I know how,” he sobbed. “It’s who I am.”

“Who you are is so vile,” Second Pig spat, his own tears mixing with Wolf’s.

By some miracle, Second Pig was able to push Wolf away in his moment of vulnerability. The predator let out a whimper that sounded like a snarl to his prey when he landed on his back with a soft thud. Second Pig scrambled to his feet and bolted out of the stick house.

For the first time in Second Pig’s life, he loved running. He loved the feeling of air rushing past, his vision slightly blurring as his legs took off. In this open, grassy field, there was nowhere he couldn’t go.

For the first time since Wolf arrived, Second Pig smiled.

He had gotten away.

. . . Had he gotten away?

No, but he was very close.

Maybe he underestimated Wolf’s ability to catch him, despite seeing how quickly he got hold of Youngest Pig. Perhaps he knew he’d be caught in the end. As Wolf pinned Second Pig down on the soft grass, he accepted his fate.

No longer did Second Pig resist when Wolf dove in and tore his limbs off one by one—starting with his arms and ending with his legs. Wolf dragged a sharp tooth across his belly, watching as Second Pig’s innards fell out before slurping them up like jello.

He walked back to the stick house, grabbed Second Pig’s glasses from where they fell, and put them on. Suddenly, the world was much clearer as he finally made his way to Eldest Pig’s home.

Eldest Pig moved the furthest, settling down on a cliff with an overview of the ocean. He worked long and hard to build a home made of bricks until his trotters ached. It was sturdy and beautiful and even had a chimney. The sun had already set, and the chirping of crickets could be faintly heard.

Wolf tapped on the door with his hairy knuckles.

“I always find myself by a door, waiting to be let in,” he told the pig. “It’s getting cold. Eldest Pig, will you let me come in?”

“How do you know me?” Eldest Pig questioned, ignoring Wolf’s words.

“I know all of you. Your entire family.”

“Where are they?”

“Right here.” Wolf’s voice was muffled on the other side of the door. “They’re here.”

Eldest Pig looked through the peephole, and he nearly let out a scream. Second Pig’s glasses, Youngest Pig’s vest, and Mama Pig’s pearls, all of them on Wolf. He could feel the way his body betrayed him, horror overwhelming him as he felt something rising in his throat, feeling himself becoming nauseous. Eldest Pig retched, falling to the floor and into the puddle of vomit.

“What did you do to my family?” Eldest Pig gasped, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear the wolf say it.

Wolf backed away from the door and caught his reflection in the puddle beneath him.

“What did you do to my family, you monster?!” Eldest Pig yelled between gags.

Jagged teeth, sunken eyes, a body built for the chase.

A predator.

A monster.

Wolf’s lips began to quiver, and his hands shook. He got on his knees and pressed himself against the door. “I don’t want to beg,” he said, his voice weak. “I know you can feel it, my longing, the aching, my need for love. I don’t want to beg, but oh God—Oh God, please. Please, little pig, let me in. Let me come in,” he wept, tears tracing lines down his fur. He weakly slammed his fist against the door, Mama Pig’s necklace rattling with each impact.

“No,” was all Eldest Pig could muster.

Wolf looked up in desperation, continuing to plead while the pig denied him. When his fist was about to make contact with the door again, he suddenly stopped. From where he sat, he could see the chimney.

At the same time, Eldest Pig, scared out of his mind, lit a blazing fire and placed a large lid-covered pot filled with water beneath the chimney. He impatiently waited for the water to boil, praying to whatever God would listen that it would before Wolf got inside.

It was like a switch flipped in Wolf’s brain as he scurried onto the roof, wasting no time to try and get inside. He began to laugh to himself, thinking he’d outsmarted Eldest Pig. While doing so, he began to speak. “I want you stuffed into my mouth, I want to hold you down while I tear you open, drag my teeth against your chest, and taste your beating heart. I want to live inside you, crawl into your flesh, and grind against your bones until our marrows mix. I want to eat you slowly . . .” He reached the chimney. “I will eat you slowly . . . I will eat you slowly . . .”

When Wolf slid down Eldest Pig’s chimney, he removed the lid from the pot, and Wolf was met with blistering hot water. It was agonizing and slow, the way he melted. His fur was gone first, then the flesh, then meat. Eldest Pig watched with terror as Wolf screamed. He moved back toward the door, afraid Wolf would still try to eat him if he got too close. As Wolf thrashed, the pot tips over and he spilled onto the floor. He reached toward Eldest Pig, eyes focused on his watch and the way light bounced off it. His eyes flicked to Eldest Pig’s, and he smiled.

Wolf laughed, and in his final breaths, he said, “Even a worm will turn.”

***

(Featured image from Flicker user thecmn)