The Three Little Pigs Story Told Differently

By Denise Anderson First Published September 12, 1997 “There are a couple of little runt pigs over at the sale barn,” a mutual friend announced to my sister and me while we were having lunch the other day. “They just want to give them away, and I immediately thought of you.”I apparently have “sucker” written on my forehead. Or, my friends knew me well enough to know I love a lost cause.I resisted this time, however, but Linda couldn't. Living on a farm, she has a little extra space and feeding out a couple of hogs would provide some pretty good eating. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was insistent.“Let's at least go get my pickup,” I said.“Why waste all that time?” she asked. “I've got a box in the trunk of my car. We can fit two little pigs in there easily.”I still had doubts; but I went along.First of all, those “little” pigs weighed a good 80 pounds apiece. We couldn't even pick one up after we caught it. We had to walk it like a wheelbarrow, holding its back feet and making it walk on its front feet.They wouldn't fit in the box, but Linda decided the trunk would still hold them, even though two had become three.We got the first two in easy enough, but the third one wouldn't cooperate. And every time we just about got it in there, one of the other pigs tried to jump out. Eventually, we just shut the trunk lid and hoped no little feet were sticking out.This is a true statement: Pigs don't like riding in the trunk of a car.As we sped down the road, we could hear them, squealing and thumping and causing a ruckus. And then we heard another noise…the thumping of a flat tire.“Great,” Linda grumbled, “this is just great.”I agreed wholeheartedly. After all, I hated changing tires. And where was the jack? In the trunk.With the pigs.We tried getting the jack out of the trunk, but the pigs, tired of being cooped up by then, got out too. It took us 25 minutes to catch them again and put them back. We did,however, forget to get the jack out while the pigs were out, so we were back where we started.We eventually waved down a passing car and they loaned us a jack the spare tire was under the car, something for which we were very grateful.“I think I've got it jacked up enough now,” Linda said. “Can you get the tire, off?”I tried, but just then, the pigs in the trunk shifted. The car fell off the jack, onto my hand. I may have said cuss words, I don't remember, but it hurt.“Jack it back up again, fast!” I hollered.Linda did so. I retrieved my battered, bruised hand while she apologized. It was no one's fault, I assured her, and now the tire was on and we were in business. We only had about five miles to go and what else could go wrong in that amount of time?

Melvin E Keller

Now What?

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