Three Little Pigs

Once upon a time, there were three little pigs. Their names were Toby, Ben and Hugh. Toby was the eldest and took things seriously. Ben was the middle one and the artistic one. Hugh was the happy-go-lucky, outdoorsy, baby of the family.
One day, for various reasons I won’t go into, our three heroes decided it was time to move out of the family home and set up their own pads.
Toby, being the serious one, took his time, digging into plans, laying foundations and then building up a lovely, sturdy house made of bricks.
Ben found some timber with gorgeous swirls and knots and built a home from that, with twigs and branches added in to make good places to hang pictures from.
The surf was looking pretty good that afternoon, so Hugh piled up a few hay bales in a cube, dropped a corrugated metal sheet on top and raced off to the beach.
Later on, as each of the piggies were relaxing in their new homes, the obligatory big bad wolf happened by. And, being the obligatory big bad wolf, jumped at the chance of some high level bullying.
First house on the street was Hugh’s…
“Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
“Uh, no.”
“Well if you don’t let me in, and cook me a really good dinner, I’m going to blow your house down.”
“Yeah right”
Well you know what happens next, the wolf huffed and puffed and blew those hay bales clear into next week. It’s a good thing the metal roof didn’t hit anyone!
Hugh was a pretty speedy runner and sprinted to his brother, Ben’s house next door. Ben had seen what was going on out of one of his windows (with hand-printed curtains) and let Hugh in as soon as he got to the door.
The wolf ambled along after him.
“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in.”
“No way!”
“Alrighty, one cyclone breath coming up…”
And away went Ben’s house, with all the lovely twisty wood patterns and colourful paintings – they landed in the trees outside the local hospital and cheered the patients up no end, so sometimes good things happen out of bad.
In the meantime, Ben and Hugh legged it to Toby’s house.
Now Toby had seen what was happening and not only was he ready to let his brothers in to safety, he’d also taken some wolf-related measures…
He let them in and then set them to various important jobs to defend themselves. Ben’s job was the phone, he called the police and then he called their mum, because the only thing more scary to a big bad wolf than a wood cutter is an angry mum (who probably knew his mum and she’d be very disappointed).
Hugh was in charge of the water bombs and was soon stationed at a high up window with a bucket full of wet, wobbly balloons. The wolf hadn’t even opened his mouth before the first one got him right on the top of his head.
Toby (joined by Ben once he got off the phone) was at the other window and added insult to injury with a perfectly-placed flour bomb.
Between the water and the flour, by the time the police and the piggies’ mum (with the wolf’s mum in tow, looking very cross), the big bad wolf had been turned into a gloopy, messy, white-and-brown, sad wolf.
His mum grabbed him by one gluey ear and dragged him off with apologies all round and the three victorious pigs invited everyone in for tea.
After that the three of them stayed together in the brick house, which Ben made look very beautiful and Hugh dug and planted and weeded and cut an equally beautiful garden and they only argued as much as any set of three brothers do and generally lived happily ever after.

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