Pigs

There were three pigs. One was smart. One was stupid. One was somewhat smart. Not necessarily in that order. They were maturing. The mother pig said, Leave. The smart, stupid, and in between one moved out. Dumbfounded, they didnt know what to do. Um, the smart one said. The dumb one had an idea. Lets build a house! Since he was the leader everyone agreed. He said, Lets all build our own houses! Since he was the leader everyone agreed. He was big. He was the biggest.

The dumb one went to build his house. In the forest, he found straw. Internally, he knew it was an omen. If he had looked around the corner he would have found a mansion waiting for him. No, his omen from God didnt permit looking around corners. He put his house together quickly. His house was sloppy. At the completion of his house, the dumb pig felt pride. Yay! he shouted to the heavens.

The somewhat dumb one went to build his house. He was smart, but did not utilize his talents. Instead he liked to play computer games, doodle, and watch the cooking channel. He saw a muddy area. He set up a plan in his head (he did things quickly, mentally) and built a house of his mud that was much more stable than the dumb pigs. He only finished half of it. He decided to nap rather than finish building the house.

The smart one went to build his house. He knew his way around the town. He was polite. He got what he wanted. He wanted a bomb proof home. Naturally, he found the mansion when some locals pointed it out to him. He went inside. He fixed the house until it was to his liking. Then he sat down and ate pork chops. Little did he know, he was eating the dumb pig. Read on.

A wolf came into town. The pigs town to be exact. He was a door to door salesman. He loathed his job. He hated his profession. He despised his trade. He wanted to be a butcher. It makes good money, he said to no one in particular. He went to a straw house. He knocked on the door and started talking to the dumb pig. The wolf pitched his routine encyclopedia selling routine. The dumb pig was kind. He exchanged cliches and non witty banter with the wolf. The wolf pitied the dumb pig. His mind kept saying, It makes good money. The wolf huffed. The wolf puffed. He blew the dumb pigs house down. He butchered the pig. He was numb to the whole activity after seeing instructional butchering films. Two days later that meat was sold to the smart pig. Cest la vie.

The wolf was making good money. He was killing civilians and getting away with it. He loved his job. He had a hankering for his profession. He had an infatuation with his trade. He kept up the good work. He saw a mud house that was not completely put together. This was routine work. He knocked on the half completed, almost stable door and started talking to the slothful pig. The wolf pitched his routine encyclopedia selling routine. This pig invited the wolf in for a draft and was genuinely kind to him. This was hard. The wolf drank the beer. The wolf shared stories and had a fun time. His mind kept saying, It makes good money. The wolf huffed. The wolf puffed. He blew the intermediate level pigs house down. He butchered the pig. He was numb to the whole activity because he was drunk. He also plundered all of the alcohol. This pig was sold to his mother. Cest la vie.

The wolf was a millionaire. He refused to share his success secrets. He went into business. He went into business with the smartest pig of them all. The best tasting (He presumed) pig in the world. He would eat him himself. The smart pig suspected something. The smart pig had also become accustomed to the tenderness of wolf meat. They met at the mansion for a business meeting. Each had a fantasy that the meeting would end in a feast for one. The wolf entered, skipping his encyclopedia routine. The smart pig automatically felt uneasy. He felt that feeling. Words slipped out of his pig tongue. Hello. He said. Im the smart pig. He said. You killed my family. He killed the wolf in timely fashion. He ate the wolf in timely fashion. He was ironically satisfied. Yay, he shouted to the heavens. Cest la vie?