Once upon a time there were three little pigs. They were extremely shonky builders who made homes from substandard materials. The first pig made a house out of bendy straws. The wolf came along and, after a well-rehearsed speech centred around forceful exhalations, blew the house down, pureed the pig into a baconshake, and drank it through one of the many bendy straws. The second pig made a house from stickers. The wolf came along, noticed one of the stickers was a Texan pro-gun bumper sticker, and in a rage (he was a very left-leaning porcicidal hamovore) blew down the sticker house and made the pig squeal like Warren Beatty. It was pretty unpleasant. The third pig was going to build a house out of reinforced concrete and razorwire, but when he went to Bunnings to buy the materials he got all caught up browsing the garden section. The wolf caught him on the way home and ate both the pig and his newly-purchased tulip bulbs. After that he felt a bit unfulfilled, so he went and blew down a few houses.
Then he exploded for no adequately explored reason.
Nobody lived ever after, happily or otherwise.
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