Continued Adventures of Three Little Pigs

Once upon a time there were three little pigs, and they lived in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and their names were Snooty, Wimpy, and Andy. Snooty was a miserable scowling tubby old git, and young Wimpy wore a waistcoat, and young Andy could balance a Toby Jug on his snout while dancing the fandango. (The three chums were distantly related to the fearsome Transylvanian were-pigs cloned by Count Dracula's beautiful but unstable blond nephew Calpurnia, but that's another story.)

One day, Sooty, Wimpy, and Andy went to the Market to buy provisions.
'I want this,' said Wimpy.
'No,' said Snooty.
'I want that,' said Andy.
'You can't have it,' said Snooty.
'I want this and this,' said Wimpy. 'And that.'
'Shut up,' said Snooty, 'or I'll put your head in a barrel of tar ad leave it there till Tuesday.'
Wimpy began to squeal until Andy kicked him in the shin and he shut up. Snooty bought provisions and they went to the cafe.
'I want cheesecake and a Danish and a big black binliner and one of those,' said Wimpy.
'I want a huge currant bun and I want to marry the Manager,' said Andy.

Meanwhile, in real life, or tv, a US scientist is caught with a secret formula behind North Korean lines and sings several folk ballards pleasantly.

Finally they got home and Snooty collapsed in a stupor on the couch. Wimpy and Andy came and sat on his head and said 'We want to hear the story of the Dragon.'
Snooty groaned. But Wimpy and Andy beat his eyes with wooden spoons until he began to tell

The Story of the Dragon

Once upon a time there was a dragon. It had a little baby dragon, or dragonette.

'Daddy,' asked Baby Dragon, 'what's a job?'
'A job, son, is what you will do when you grow up. Such as, real estate wheeler- dealer; agronomist; clergyman.'
'I don't think I want a job,' said Baby Dragon. 'Daddy, do you have a job?'
'I don't need a job,' said the Dragon. 'I'm the Queen of Sheba.' Thick black smoke, shot through with atomic fire, billowed from his nostrils, scorching the settee, obscuring the TV.

Meanwhile, Greer Garson, a tall, statuesque veterinarian, with great mossy teeth, win a diamond mine in a New Orleans poker game.

'Daddy,' asked Baby Dragon, 'What are your views on regicide?
'Daddy, do you think history is bunk?
'Daddy, did you ever meet the late King Charles the First?'
'I want to hear the story of the three little pigs,' said Baby Dragon.
'No,' said the Dragon.
'I want to hear the story of the greasy teen of the early '60s who dies in a chicken race and can't get to Heaven,' said Baby Dragon.
So the Dragon sat the Dragonette upon its lap and sucked a pineapple lozenge to clear its throat and it began to tell

The Story of the Greasy Teenager

Once upon a time there was a greasy teenager named Montgomery, and in one version he was played by Marlon Brando. One day, he met Felicia, a torch singer who had escaped in a submarine from the Trojan War.
'Tell me a story,' commanded Felicia. 'I want to hear the story of the Three Little Pigs,' said Monty's busty sex-kitten.
So, while Empress Portia's Eastern yogi confesses his past indiscretions when their plane seems about to crash, Greasy Monty concluded, as follows,

The Story of the Three Little Pigs

'Are you a saint, Snooty?' said Wimpy.
Snooty snored, the will, bequeathing his all to Edmond O'Brien, abandoned on his lap.
'We're going to kill you,' said Andy. And they did. Wimpy and Andy cut off Snooty's legs with a hatchet and he bled to death. It took eight and a half hours, during which time Wimpy and Andy watched at least three James Stewart movies, including Philadelphia Story.

Stephen Hammond

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Updated January 2001