As the current lock-down situation continues, there has been no wheelchair skills training taking place. To keep my mind busy, alongside homeschooling my son, I connected with Bucks Adult Learning to do a Creative Writing course. I have written a few pieces as the course tutor has asked. I don’t feel some of them need to be listed on my blog, maybe? But one I do like is my version of the Three Little Pigs. I hope you like it and please feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments.
The three little pigs were siblings, one was big, one was small and one wore medium size clothes.
They all lived separately in different sized accommodation. The oldest pig lived in a grand house on the hill, the small youngest, lived in a skinny barge on the river and the middle size pig lived in a two berth caravan on the edge of a farmers field.
One day the wolf visited the village the pigs lived in. Dressed in his Sunday best he had come from Hungary. He was walking through the quiet town square, with the sun on his back, when he saw the three sitting in pig squeal outside the Slop House. He walked over, liking his lips thinking about a bacon sandwich.
On seeing him walk towards them as he reached for his cutlery he carried in his backpack, the three brothers decided to run. They scrambled in separate directions towards their individual homes leaving muddy trotter prints in their wake.
Looking from gammon steak, to bacon sandwich to a pork sausage, the wolf was unsure who to chase.
The oldest, big pig, was the slowest pig and he hailed a taxi and sternly ordered the driver to take him to his home high on the rise, as swiftly as he could. The youngest, smallest, quickly trotted to his boat and made a lot of noise with his trotters tapping on the wooden decking hoping he could get to safety. The middle pig was on his push bike wrestling with the gears in order to try and make it home, finally diving through the entrance to the safe nest, pulling up the door behind him..
The wolf decided to investigate the small size pig. Thinking in his mind that the smallest pig would be easiest to catch in his boat that he could see moored on the river edge. He slyly walked towards it inhaling deeply. He didn’t bother with all the famous speech, he was hungry…. He just huffed and puffed and blew the boat out into the river……
Cursing with frustration, he turned and stomped off towards the stony path that led up to the house on the hill. Climbing to the top of the high ground he swung open the gate which creaked on its hinges. Old pig was peeking nervously round the edge of his flowery curtains watching the wolf approach. This time the wolf shouted loudly ‘big pig, big pig, let me in…. I am hungry and in need of a large snack. ‘Go away, Go away’ replied big pig loudly. ‘My house is made of brick and it’s not worth you huffing and puffing trying to blow it down’. With a rumble in his empty tummy, the wolf spun on his heel and headed back down the path heading towards the farmers field with middle pigs caravan parked on the grassy edge.
It took him a few moments to reach the field and the middle pig was sitting on his doorstep enjoying the sun eating a mud pie. Peaking over the rims of his glasses seeing the wolf leap over the five bar gate, he grinned and decided to welcome the wolf with a smile and open arms.
That’s the end of the story and of the middle pig. Middle pig made the mistake of being too trusting. With a spring in his step and a full stomach, using his toothpick to clean his row of razor sharp teeth the wolf happily headed home.