The three little pigs each huddled in their houses, hoping the Wolf would pass them by, but he was hungry and could smell their fear. The wolf walked by each house slowly, sniffing at each door, wondering which pig would be easiest to take down. His fur was ragged, his claws and teeth dull, his ribs visible through his skin. It'd been so long since he'd had a proper meal.
First, a large brick house with windows high on the walls, each only a few inches wide. The walls were a few feet thick and insulated, with a concrete foundation beneath the house. The chimney was also thin-just wide enough for ventilation, but not for the wolf to crawl through. This pig was smart. He had protected himself well, stocking up large stores of food in case the wolf should try to starve him out.
He moved on to the second house.
This next house was much smaller than the brick house, only two floors and with regular sized windows. It's weak wooden frame would be easy to destroy, taking only a few minutes to rip through the door and walls. The wolf considered his chances of catching the pig in his weakened state. No. Those few minutes it would take to rip through the house would give the pig just enough time to escape and warn the others. The wolf moved on, hoping to find better prospects down the road.
And he did.
After just a short walk, the wolf came upon a one room home built of straw. Even tied together in thick bundles like it was, even with the wolf's weakened state, the house would be destroyed in a matter of seconds. A toothy grin spread slowly across the wolf's face and he prepared to charge at the door. At long last he would have a proper meal, a chance to build up his strength once more. But right as he prepared to lunge at the door, something surprising happened.
A short, fat pig opened the door quietly, his small pink nose twitching with fear, his voice a small squeak. "Please, sir. If you spare me I can help you." That whispered statement gave the wolf pause. A pig----help him? He ought to just tear the pig's throat out now. There was no reason for a pig to help him. But then again, this one had nothing to lose. Even in his weakened state the wolf could tear him to pieces in a matter of moments.
What was this one planning?
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The tired pig woke to a knock on the door. He wiped the sleep from his eyes as he waddled down the stairs, the weight of his many chins pressing against his throat. Maybe he should eat a little less. He pushed that thought away. He could eat as much as he wanted-he had more than enough food stocked in his cellar to keep him comfortable for longer than it would take that stupid wolf to starve. His stock and the thick brick walls surrounding him gave him much comfort.
By the time he finally reached the door he was huffing and puffing, ready to go back to sleep. "Who is it?", he called through the door, his gravelly voice echoing through the quiet halls of his house. A small voice squeaked back a reply-"It's just your neighbor...I live two houses down the road...?"
The large pig rolled his eyes; he hated his neighbors. They were always coming around, trying to borrow something or other. He especially hated this one with his squeaky voice, always sounding like he was unsure of everything, making every statement into a question. He sighed. Might as well get this over with.
He opened the door.
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The wolf lay on the floor in the straw house, exhausted. He hadn't eaten that well in weeks. The squeaky voiced pig was sweeping the bones of his two neighbors into the corner, complaining about the blood on his floor. Maybe he would spare this pig. After all, if he could continue to have meals like this every day.....
That would be well worth it.
The wolf licked his chops, the dried blood in his fur the last remnants of the two pigs. Yes, it would be a good investment to let this pig survive. He rolled onto his side and went to sleep, visions of his future meals dancing through his head.
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The squeaky pig glared at the blood on his floor. Sure, he didn't have to deal with those insufferable neighbors of his anymore, but look at all the blood! Disgusting! The wolf slept in the middle of it all, bloated from his large meal.
The pig had hoped to wait a little while, but when would he get a chance as good as this? He placed the broom back in the closet, going to the kitchen and taking out the largest knife he owned. He would make it quick.
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He sat next to a large bonfire he had made in his back yard, far enough away from his house that it wouldn't catch fire, but close enough that he wouldn't have to walk far to get more wood if need be.
The smell of roasting meat drifted through the air and the pig smiled, pulling a chunk of meat from the fire, pulling his new furs around himself to keep warm. He hadn't been this happy for a long time, nor had he had a meal this good.
No more annoying neighbors, and no more wolf besides.
