Jen and I were given the assignment in journalism to re-tell the story of "The Three Little Pigs" from a different perspective. With her permission, I'm posting the end result. (Jen, I hope you like the ending.)


The E! True Hollywood Story:
Inside the Straw House
A tell-all exposé by Jen Pontzer and Kristina Kirkland

“Get out of our basement, you lazy piece of bacon!”
Oh how I love my parents. 18 years of filial ingratitude on my behalf, and what does it get me? Kicked out of the only home I’d ever known.
Abandoned.
Alone in the world.
Well, alone except for my brothers Pig 2 and Pig 3, aka “The Other Lazy One” and “The Moralizing Prat.” Surely they wouldn’t turn their brother out of doors, not their own flesh and blood!
*knock knock knock*
“Well hello Jake! What a lovely wooden house you have here! Mind if I stay for a bit?”
Wouldn’t you know it, Pig 2 didn’t buy it and sent me on my way. Well fine. I have two brothers- surely Moralizing Prat- err, Pig 3- wouldn’t begrudge his poor starving brother a place to crash for while.
By the time I make it to his place, my hooves are killing me.
*knock knock knock*
“My dearest Bill, would you be so kind as to let me rest my poor little piggie toes in your nicely built brick house?”
After a long-winded lecture about the merits of hard work, the virtue of a strong Protestant work ethic, and…and…well, I kind of stop listening after the first 30 seconds or so. He then slams the door in my face, leaving me alone in the snow.
Ah, brotherly love.
Resigned to my fate as a frozen heap of pork rinds, I burrow into a nearby haystack. Just as I was almost asleep, a brilliant idea struck me. No one was using this straw…maybe it could be made into a decent house. I resolve to renounce my lazy ways first thing in the morning, and begin construction of my house at the break of dawn.
Dawn breaks. I decide that it is far too early for any respectable pig to be awake. Ignoring that I’m not exactly what you’d call a respectable pig, I roll over and go back to sleep, deciding that the renunciation of my lazy ways is more trouble than it’s worth. And anyway, I won’t need that much time to build my house…how hard could it be?
Three hours and copious amounts of swearing later, I have my answer. The result is…well, let’s just say that it ain’t going to appear on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens any time soon. But hey, it’s home sweet home for the moment.
So I’m standing there admiring my humble abode when Moralizing Prat walks up behind me. I brace myself for another lecture, but instead, he is uncharacteristically silent. At last he speaks:
“By the way, brother, I did mention that there’s a large and menacing wolf that lives in the woods directly behind your place, didn’t I?”
I stare at him, mouth agape. He takes in my expression with a smirk.
“My mistake.” He walks away chuckling.
It’s a plot. My own family is conspiring against me, planning my demise. Well, two can play at this game. Just then, someone taps my shoulder. I turn absently, still plotting revenge, and nearly jump out of my little piggie skin.
Behind me is a wolf. A big, hairy, menacing wolf with big teeth. Big, sharp teeth. He opens his mouth- oh man, I’m about to become a pork roast. I cower in fear. He- he speaks? He’s not going to eat me? He wants to know if he can invite me to dinner?
I cautiously reply that, so long as someone else provides the main course, I’m in.
Over dinner, I learn that his name is James T. Wolfe, and that he’s an out-of-work actor who’s down on his luck. As he speaks, another brilliant plan- man, I’m on a roll!-pops into my little piggie brain. I ask him how he’d like some fast cash and a short-term gig. He readily agrees.
Under the cover of darkness, we hatch our plot in preparation for the coming day’s escapades.
I’ll hazard a guess that you folks know what’s coming next. James helps me destroy my house, and the house of Pig 2, after which we porkers flee to Moralizing Prat’s house. Once there, I feed him a sob story about the Big Bad Wolf rendering Jake and me homeless, and throw myself on his mercy as our brother. Grudgingly, he agrees- and just in time, too. Time to put Part Two of the plan into action. Under the ruse of “making sure that the coast is clear”, I sneak outside, where I proceed to make horrible noises of “agony”, while James stands by and tries to contain his giggles. We then run off into the woods, laughing like anything.
It takes three days for my brothers to venture outside of the little brick cottage to determine my fate- hey, thanks guys. ‘Cause you know, if James hadn’t “killed” me, I’d have been a goner with you two to rescue me. When they see the fake blood I smeared on the ground, courtesy of James’ extensive collection of stage makeup, they faint dead away. Upon regaining consciousness, they run for their lives, never to be seen in the area again.
I don’t know what became of them. I assume that The Other Lazy One is still lazy, and that Moralizing Prat is still moralizing and still a prat. James and I moved into the cozy little brick house, where we live off the crops that my brother planted and the money he raked in from his investments. James brings in a bit of money from the acting jobs he picks up now and again.
And we lived happily ever after.