The three little pigs loved their family, but ever since they had begun growing older, family had become something of an annoyance. Little Pig was the oldest and had ran away from home immediately after 18. In his haste to leave, he had bought the cheapest apartment he could, one made with straw and hay. Littler Pig was the loneliest and always paranoid, so his house was fortified with brick. He spent all his time wrapped in a blanket, fearing an evil that would knock upon his door. Littlest Pig was the absolute youngest but a bright mind. He was an engineer and a farmer who had built his house out of wood. Smooth, sawed wood. Papa pig and Mama pig would’ve been proud though sad to see their three children estranged.
There are some who prey on those alone, and others who are cutthroat businessmen. Mr. Wolfe was delightfully-both. He enjoyed conning poor, dump pork out of money. Wolfe left the construction business to do real estate, and he lived in a city of up-and-coming piggies. All the better to scam.
With his briefcase in hand and a slick pompadour hairdo, Wolfe set out to do cold-calls. He knocked only once on the first pig’s door. His knock sounded thunderous even to his own ear.
A startled pig slid the door open only by a slither.
“Wh-who’s there?” A green eyeball peeked out.
“Ya lucky day, kiddie. I’m both a home inspector and real estate extraordinaire. Allow me to, uh, examine ya home my dearest…” Wolfe bowed exaggeratedly in front of him, his gray ears almost touching the ground.
The pig, with a quizzical look, opened the door half way. His flesh was pink and smooth. Big round eyes and an almost pronounced snout. He certainly wasn’t an elder but neither a child; rather, a millennial-pig.
“I’m Timothy Little Pig,” the pig spoke up. A burst of confidence entered his voice.
Wolfe didn’t like too confident pork. He liked seeing their dismay when he stole from them.
Wolfe touched the straw structure of Little Pig’s home.
“Whaddya say, Little Pig? Ya got nothing to lose.” Wolfe
sauntered around Little Pig’s front door.
Chumps Clients’ eyes always
followed his freshly-pressed suits and shiny gator boots. Wolfe wasn’t dumb; he
knew he had a certain allure about him. His allure had been many of common pork’s
One snort. Two snort. Nose twitch. Little Pig shook his head.
With the door fully-opened now, Little Pig told him, “No way! My apartment isn't spectacular, but it’s good enough for me.” Little Pig turned to closed his door. Papa and Mama pig had told him enough times no good would come from doing business with a shady wolf. Did he even have a business card?
Wolfe’s shiny boot obstructed the door from closing. He had no way of knowing if it were his red eyes or his sharp teeth that was affecting his deal too early. Wolves, no, Wolfe didn’t take no for an answer. Meeting apprehension with aggression felt like second nature.
He leered down at Little Pig, their differences in height, highlighting the intimidation.
“Now, wait just a minute, Pig. Whhadya say if I’s don’t give ya a choice?”
Little Pig trembled. Midday and a wolf had knocked on HIS door! Where were his neighbors? Who had even let a wolf into an apartment complex in the first place?
Even scarier, Little Pig wished his family were there.
Trying out third person omniscient. It’s a bit awkward