Dear Editor,

           I am very much disturbed to find that inaccurate, self-serving, revisionist tract, “The Three Little Pigs: How it Actually Happened,” by Paul Hetzler in your pages, Calliope, No. 115. Like all politicians, especially appointed politicians, the Animals’ Commissioner of Truth has his own axes to grind. I am sure Mr. Hetzler is not to blame. He has only repeated this prevaricating poltroon’s words.  

          We can all agree that the children’s fable is far from fact. The story itself is antediluvian, the beginnings lost in the hoary mists of antiquity. My exhaustive research has failed to turn up anything concrete concerning the youth of the pigs in question. Obviously as Hetzler states, the pigs were not mere infants when the story opens, but I caution the reader that while pigs do not have a long life span, they do pork up fast.  

          The Animals’ Commissioner of Truth immediately attracted my attention with his blatant lie, “…in favor [of] eating a lot and lying in their manure.” No doubt this reprehensible public servant makes his revelation in an attempt to make himself seem better than pigs. Pigs are highly intelligent animals, more so I would venture to say than the Animals’ Commissioner of Truth. They lie in their manure only when forced to do so by inhumane or factory farming methods. If they have a proper pen, pigs will reserve a corner for their latrine. In the wild, they are amongst the cleanest of animals. Should you want an exotic house pet, weighing five hundred pounds with hooves, you couldn’t do better than to get a pig.

          I suspect the most casual reader has determined for himself that this story dates back before the time of trucks, and probably jelly donuts. Nevertheless, Hetzler does acknowledge one of the weaknesses in the fable. How did the pigs build their houses? Quite obviously hoofed animals are at a handicap when it comes to the building trades. Also, as with most animals you have run into or read about, they were broke.  

          This is where the office of the Animals’ Commission of Truth enters the picture. Like most government agencies, the Animals’ Truth Commission has, throughout its long history, been out of control, engaged in all sorts of activities not connected in any way to its mandate. It has flourished under tribal chiefs, emperors, kings, dictators, and, yes, unelected presidents. For some cockamamie reason, the Animals’ Commission of Truth decided that these three pigs needed homes, and gave them the money to have them built.

          The three pigs hired contractors to do the work. Hetzler reports that the pigs were named Bruno, Waldo, and Hugo. There is a lot of conflicting information concerning the names. Let us allow these names to stand as suitable for the purposes. Bruno bought some land just outside the town gate, where everyone discarded their trash. It was cheap. Bruno decided to build the least expensive house possible, straw, with his money, relegating the most of his cash to partying. You can read that as jelly donuts if you want. My sources would lead me to think more along the lines of beer, or even more costly recreational comestibles/potables. The three pigs partied, on Bruno’s tab, while the houses were going up.

          Bruno’s straw house was finished first. The three pigs gathered there for the housewarming. With the blowout in full swing, the wolf entered. Mind you this is not just any wolf. This is the wolf in literature and fable, a wolf the Animals’ Commissioner of Truth would not want any reader to even think about, so he invented R. L. Huffenpuff and her blown down insulation scam. Like all wolves in literature, the wolf in “The Three Little Pigs,” is symbolic of government/power/wealth. Read: de Maupassant, London, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Henty, Bacheller, Wilde, Shakespeare, Dickens, Kipling, Roe, Van Dyke, O. Henry, even “Little Red Riding Hood,” and you can clearly see that the wolves therein represent the power of government or wealth.
 
         Well, the wolf in this case turned out to be the head honcho of the little village where the three little pigs lived. Some claim he was the Mayor, others the Abbot. Whatever title you wish to give him, he condemned Bruno’s house, confiscated it, and gave it to a friend of his who would be more active in generating monies that could be taxed.

          This friend of the Mayor/Abbot established a little business to greet weary travelers just before they entered the village, or as the case might be, send them on their merry way. Inside the walls of the town, such businesses were unfortunately prohibited, due to the noise and troubles such ventures tend to cause. Bruno’s house perfectly suited the Mayor/Abbot’s friend’s needs. Since Bruno got the money to build the house form the Animals’ Commission of Truth, the Mayor/Abbot decided against compensating Bruno in any manner, shape, or form.  

          Waldo located a small parcel in a little better part of town and built upon it a house of sticks. It took nearly all the money Waldo received from the Animals’ Commission of Truth, but he was able to put a little aside for a housewarming. His two pig friends were there to help him celebrate, the only guests he could afford to invite. As you no doubt guessed, the wolf came uninvited, the tax man.

          “This is a fine house you have here, Waldo. How much did it cost to build?” the tax man asked.

          Waldo replied honestly, but that brand of currency is long gone, and no one knows what it is worth anymore—something like a dollar.

          The tax man took out his little black book and his pencil. He made a few marks and mumbled a few ominous syllables, before he presented Waldo with a bill. Waldo had no money left to pay his taxes. The tax man took Waldo’s house and booted the three pigs out.

          Hugo bought property with a nice view near the top of a hill in the center of town. He built there a house of brick. It cost a lot more than the Animals’ Commission of Truth gave Hugo, but he was one of those folks with a hopeful outlook. Maybe he could get the Animals’ Commission of Truth to kick in another bundle? When he was almost out of cash, a nice man in a suit, the loan officer from the bank, stopped to talk.

          “You have a nice house started here, Hugo,” he observed. “How much will it cost to complete?”

          Hugo answered honestly.

          The loan officer took out his little black book and his pencil. He made a few marks and uttered a few encouraging syllables. “Would you like to borrow that amount from my bank…sign here,” the loan officer encouraged.

          When Hugo’s house of brick was finally completed, there was no money for a party. In fact the only thing Hugo owned other than his house and land was one brick. One brick had been left over. Hugo’s two friends were there, party or no. Winter was coming on, and Bruno and Waldo were hoping Hugo would invite them to live with him. Again the wolf appeared, transmogrified from the friendly loan officer.

          “I see your house is complete. Very nice. Very nice. You remember that little loan I gave you? It just so happens that the first installment is due today.” With that the loan officer presented his bill. “If you don’t pay it, the whole loan becomes payable immediately, and I’ll repossess your nice new brick home.”

          “I don’t have any money,” Hugo replied, “but I have this lovely red brick. Will you take it as the first installment?”

          “No, you ignoramus, I won’t take your lousy brick. Get yourself and your worthless friends off my property now!”

          Hugo took the brick and stove in the loan officer’s skull with it, reminding one of the old proverb, “Never do business with a sober pig.”

          The tale, according to tradition, ends on an upbeat note. “They lived happily ever after…” except for the loan officer.

Thanking you for your kind attention, I am

Very Truly Yours,
Gordon A. Graves