The scent of something warm and delicious still lingered in the air, leading me deeper into the woods. Soon, I spotted another house—this one made of sticks. An improvement, but not by much. At least it looked like an actual house, with a door and a little window.
I was starting to think these pigs had some kind of personal grudge against me.
But as soon as I stepped out of the trees, I knew this pig was different. His house wasn’t made of flimsy straw or brittle sticks—this was a proper house. Solid red bricks, a chimney, real windows.
Finally, someone with common sense.
I walked up to the door, took a deep breath, and knocked as gently as I could.
"Little pig, little pig, can I come in?"
There was a pause. Then, a firm voice called back:
"Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin!"
I groaned. Seriously? Again?
"Look, I know what your brothers told you, but this is all a big misunderstanding!" I said.
No response.
"I don’t want to eat you! I don’t want to huff and puff and blow anything down! I just need some sugar for my pie!"
Still nothing.
I sighed and rubbed my temples. Okay. Clearly, reasoning wasn’t going to work. Maybe if I just waited, the pig would realize I wasn’t a threat and open the door.
But then—just my luck—I felt the familiar itch in my nose.
Not now. Not now!
I tried to fight it. I really did. But it was no use.
Achoo!
The sneeze echoed through the trees, shaking the leaves above me. But this time, nothing happened. No creaking walls. No collapsing roofs.
I opened one eye and looked up. The brick house stood perfectly strong, unfazed by my unfortunate allergies.
I let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a house that could actually withstand a sneeze.
But before I could relax, I heard snickering from inside.
"See? He’s trying to blow the house down!" one of the other pigs whispered.
"I told you he was dangerous!"
What?!
"No, I wasn’t!" I shouted. "It was just a sneeze! My allergies are awful, okay?"
But they weren’t listening. I heard shuffling inside, furniture scraping against the floor. It sounded like they were barricading the door!
I groaned and looked around. I needed to get inside and explain things properly.
That’s when I noticed the chimney.
Now, let me be clear—I wasn’t trying to sneak in. I wasn’t planning anything shady. I just figured, if I climbed down the chimney, I could land in the living room and finally have a proper conversation without them freaking out.
Now, let me be clear—I wasn’t trying to sneak in. I wasn’t planning anything shady. I just figured, if I climbed down the chimney, I could land in the living room and finally have a proper conversation without them freaking out.
So, I climbed up.
Brick by brick, I pulled myself higher, muttering the whole way. "This is ridiculous. All of this for a little sugar."
I reached the top, peered inside, and carefully began lowering myself down. Almost there. Just a few more feet and—
WHOOOOSH!
Suddenly, a wave of scorching heat blasted up the chimney.
They had lit a fire.
Panic shot through me. I scrambled, clawing my way back up, coughing from the smoke. My fur felt singed. My tail was definitely hotter than it should’ve been.
I sat there, gasping for air, my heart pounding. From inside, I heard the pigs cheering.
"We got him!" one shouted.
"Serves him right!" said another.
I groaned. This was officially the worst day ever.
Defeated, I climbed down from the roof and dusted myself off. I was done.
No sugar. No pie. Just humiliation, singed fur, and a ruined reputation.
I slumped away, tail dragging behind me.
And, of course, the pigs told everyone their version of the story.
How I was some “Big Bad Wolf” who tried to destroy their homes. How I wanted to gobble them up. How they outsmarted me.
And people believed them!
Nobody cared about my side. Nobody wanted to hear about the allergies, the sneezes, or the simple request for sugar. Nope. Now I was the villain of the story.
So, if you ever hear the tale of the Three Little Pigs and the Big Bad Wolf, remember this—
I wasn’t big.
I wasn’t bad.
I was just hungry.
