Lois Letchford reads an alternate Three Little Pigs where the wolf, Alexander T. Wolf, tells his side. He claims he only sneezed while borrowing sugar for his grandmother's cake, and the sneeze knocked down the straw house and killed the first pig. It's a funny retelling that questions who the real villain is.
Chapters
Hello, I'm Lois Letchford, author of the book Reversed: A Memoir and a literacy problem solver, reading today a favourite story, the true story of the 3 Little Pigs, as by A. Wolf, as told to John Shezac, and illustrated by Lane Smith. Everybody knows the story of the 3 Little Pigs, or at least they think they do. But I'll let you into a little secret. Nobody knows the real story because nobody has ever heard my side of the story. I'm the Wolf. Alexander T. Wolf. You can call me Al. I don't know how this whole Big Bad Wolf thing got started, but it's all wrong. Maybe it's because of our diet. Hey, it's not my fault wolves eat cute little animals like bunnies and sheep and pigs. That's just the way we are. If cheeseburgers were cute, folks would probably think you were big and bad too. But like I was saying, the whole big bad wolf thing is all wrong. The real story is about a sneeze and a cup of sugar. This is the real story. Way back in once-upon-a-time time, I was making a birthday cake for my dear old granny. I had a terrible sneezing cold. I ran out of sugar, so I went next door to ask if I could borrow a cup of sugar. Now, the guy next door The man next door was a pig, and he wasn't too bright either. He had built his whole house out of straw. Can you believe it? I mean, who in his right mind built a house of straw? So of course, the minute I knocked on the door, it fell right in. I didn't want to just walk into someone else's house, so I called, Little pig, little pig, are you in? No answer. I was just about to go home without the cup of sugar for my dear old granny's birthday cake. That's when my nose started to itch. I felt a sneeze coming on. Well, I huffed. And? I snuffed. And I sneezed a great sneeze. And you know what? The whole darn straw house fell down, and right in the middle of the pile of straw was First Little Pig, dead as a doornail. He had been home the whole time.
