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Tag Archives: fairy tales

My Memories of The Three Little Pigs

27 Jul

July 27, 2014

My Memories of The Three Little Pigs

An installment of Fairy Tale Theater

3 pigs

Once upon a time there were three pigs that lived in the woods and stop right there. The woods? Do pigs live in the woods? I don’t really know. In Lord of the Flies there’s a wild boar that lives on an island, and I know that for awhile people kept pot-bellied pigs as pets (why????) but do pigs live in the woods? I don’t know. I’m a city guy. I’ve only seen pigs in farms on TV. We must be talking about the same woods in which talking bears steal pic-a-nic baskets. And wear ties and porkpie hats.

So these three pigs, seemingly against all odds, lived in the woods. And to up the unbelievability ante, they A- talked, B- walked upright, and C- lived in their own, mortgage free houses. Plus they wore shirts but no pants, Porky Pig style.

Things were pretty good for these pigs. They were lazy and didn’t do a lick of work all day. Their houses were long-ago paid off, and their meals were brought in by local volunteers who delivered food to shut-ins. Oh sure, most days they spent by the pool drinking pina coladas and texting selfies to each other, but when it was time for their meals to arrive, they hopped in their totally unnecessary wheelchairs, affected coughs, and waited by their front doors, forks and knives at the ready.

Well, as you’d imagine, there were other people- er, animals- in the woods who were pretty mad at these 1 percenter pigs. One in particular, a wolf, had a real mad on and wanted to redistribute some of the pigs wealth right into his belly, preferably after roasting them over a spit. This wolf was once a part of the Occupy The Enchanted Forest movement, so you know he had never worked a day in his life. But really, can we blame him? If your parents had named you Big Bad, what chances of getting a job in a Fortune 500 company would you have? Will the New York Stock Market ever gain ten points at the thought of Big Bad Finklestein being named CEO of Bloomberg Media LLC? I think not. So go easy on The Big Bad Wolf. He’s a product of his environment.

One day The Big Bad Wolf was particularly hungry. He was also particularly smelly too, but hey, that’s just another day in the Occupy movement. So one day, as he watched one of the pigs lounging by his pool and ordering new smart phones to give out at Christmas to all his rich friends, the wolf reached his limit. That pig was just so fat and succulent that the wolf just couldn’t take it anymore. “That’s all I can stands, I can’t stands no more!” he said, stealing one of Popeye’s catch phrases. He should have kept his mouth shut because that totally gave him away and the pig ran into his house, slamming the door right in The Big Bad Wolf’s face. (Snout? Whatever.)

Problem was, the pig’s house, like his fortune, was made out of straw. The pig wasn’t really a rich 1 percenter, and could only afford to build a house out of straw. All he cared about was appearances. And those smart phones he was ordering? He was way over his credit line anyway.

The wolf knew that no straw house would keep him out, so he huffed, and he puffed, and no, you really can’t blow a house of straw down, but he was able to more or less rip it apart with his bare hands. (Paws, claws, whatever.)

The pig ran off screaming.

The hungry wolf pawed through the straw but the only food he found was pimentos and Fresca. He took off after the pig, who had zoomed to his brother’s house and locked the door.

The second pig had done a little better for himself in the stock market and built his house out of wood, which I think we can all agree is much more sensible than straw. On the other hand, this pig was also a big Selena Gomez fan and spent a lot of time writing nasty letters to Justin Bieber, for which there was a restraining order against him. If he had spent more time on his investments and less time threatening Bieber he could have had a better home made of brick, but wood was still ok.

The wolf showed up and he was still determined to eat the pigs. Unfortunately, wood is a little harder to tear down than straw. The wolf tried to go in through the window, but the house was in a sketchy part of the forest and the windows were barred.

“Ha ha ha!” the pigs laughed, and it sounded just like that- ha ha ha, like in a comic book. “What are you going to do now, loser? Huff and puff and blow the house down?”

The wolf, being more of a wolf of action than words, took an axe and brought down the front door. “Heeeeere’s Johnny!” he cried, in a reference to Jack Nicholson in The Shining that most kids today won’t get. The pigs started squealing like, er, pigs, and ran out the back way.

The pair of bacony porkers ended up at the gated community where the third brother lived. There was a sauna and hot tub, and there was even a really good Thai restaurant so none of them had to leave if they didn’t want to. The Big Bad Wolf showed up but the security guards chased him off. He was last seen harassing Little Red Riding Hood, because seriously, what are the odds that there would be two wolves like this?

The moral of the story? Eat the rich is more than just an expression, some of them are full of flavor.

 

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Fairy Tale Theater: Little Red Riding Hood

17 Dec

December 17, 2013

fairy tale theater header

from July 19, 2012

Once upon a time there was a little girl. Amazing, right? Like who would think that in all of history there was ever a little girl and believe it or not, she lived in the woods. Nobody ever lived in a rundown apartment over a liquor shop back then.  Seriously, a little girl who lives in the woods in a fairy tale is like leaves on a tree. Big deal. I can look out my window and see leaf after leaf. I can probably also look out my window and see little girl after little girl but I won’t. A man my age who looks out his window at little girls is a sure bet to wind up on the sex offender registry.

Anyway, this particular little girl was named Little Red Riding Hood. That may be hard to believe but there was actually a time long ago when it was common to name people after items of clothing. Her mother was named Plaid Socks and her father was named Old Denim Overalls. She also had a cousin named Pants with Stinky Brown Stain on Rear.

Little Red Riding Hood, whose last name was Schwartz, lived in the woods. This is not the same woods as the one in Snow White or Pinocchio, though they were all run by the same management company. In fact there were about 30 different woods and in each the ogres were threatening to go on strike. Little Red was a cute and sweet young girl. In fact she was too cute and sweet. She was so sweet you couldn’t stand her. Little Red was like one of those cute kids in a Stephen King novel whom you couldn’t stand but you’d keep reading because you knew she’d get killed in some horrible way, like the baby in Pet Semetary. But not only was Little Red cute and sweet, she was also kind and generous and good-hearted. Everyone hated her. Even Mother Theresa once slapped her.

Here is a typical page from her daily planner:

-wake up
-milk the cows
-massage the cows
-dress the cows in pretty dresses

And that’s just before 8am.

On this particular day Red took some time out of her busy schedule to bring a basket of food to her sick grandmother. Grandma lived even deeper in the woods, all alone. Great idea for a frail old woman, right? Anyway, she was sick so Red decided to bring her enough food to last a week. I would have brought her a Medic Alert bracelet and some aspirin too.

The woods were full of wolves. Big, hungry, ravenous, sexually repressed wolves. What? Didn’t think I’d go there? Fairy tales are full of hidden sexual imagery.  Think Rumplestiltskin wasn’t freaky like Chris Brown? Yeah, some wolf beat up Rihanna too.

So there was Little Red Riding Hood, skipping along through the woods singing along to Gotye when just when she got to “But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough” (yes that song is that old. Gotye stole it from a German folk tale) a wolf leaped out of the trees and demanded “open the door and let me in or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!” Clearly he was in the wrong place. Seeing his mistake he politely apologized and left.

No sooner had he left than another wolf leapt out and demanded the picnic basket. Back then wolves would wait in line for a shot at a picnic basket. He snarled. He showed his fangs. He waved his claws. His fur bristled, his teeth glistened, even his busy tail was somehow menacing.

Little Red Riding Hood smiled and, being so sweet and obnoxiously good-natured, gave him the basket, kissed the wolf on the snout, and turned around and skipped back home, singing Lady Gaga all the way. And poor granny? She was still starving.

Later, the wolf took the basket back home to his den. Lair? Nest? Where do wolves live anyway? The point is, he ripped open the basket and found it full of nothing but Ensure, Metamucil, and more adult diapers than you would expect. After all, Granny wasn’t about to digest a T-bone steak at her age. This did nothing to slake the wolf’s appetite. He trashed the basket but he kept the diapers. The wolf was getting on in years, you know.

The next day the wolf decided to get even with Red. He’d guzzled a week’s worth of Granny’s Ensure and went into body failure. He showed up on Grandma’s doorstep and rang the bell. He claimed to be selling subscriptions to Vibe magazine. Granny wasn’t interested and didn’t open the door. The wolf decided that being sneaky was getting him nowhere so he jumped through the window and ate her. Honestly, he’s a wolf. Why didn’t he do that to begin with?

After completing various good deeds, like washing a leper’s feet and knitting scarves for bald sheep, Little Red Riding Hood Schwartz once again brought a basket to Grandma’s house. She knocked on the door and a strange, high-pitched growl that would fool absolutely no one but this silly kid said “come on in, the door is open.” 

She went in and there, in the inky shadows, was what looked like a wolf in Granny’s bed. See? I told you fairy tales were full of sexual imagery. Let me lay this out for you: The wolf was trying to lure the girl into bed. There’s a reason why men who hit on every woman in sight are called wolves.

Meanwhile, how dumb is Red? Be realistic, would you be fooled if you saw a dog in bed instead of a human being? Of course not. Even if your dog could talk and looked cute in a sweater you’d knit her, you’d still recognize that it’s a dog. So what was Little Red Riding Hood’s problem? Sheesh. I think she needed glasses. You know what comes next.

“My Grandma, what big ears you have!”
“The better to hear you my dear.”
“My Grandma, what big eyes you have!”
“The better to see you, my dear.”
“My Grandma, what big teeth you have!”
“Oh screw this shit!” And the wolf leaped out of the bed and tore Little Red Riding Hood to pieces.

A passing lumberjack heard Little Red Riding Hood’s screams and came to rescue her. Guess what? The wolf ate him too.

The moral of the story? A wolf will eat you. Avoid wolves.

———————–

Can you stand more?

Read My Memories of Cinderella here.

Read My Memories of Snow White here.

Read My Memories of The Boy Who Cried Wolf here.

Read My Memories of Pinocchio here

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