Hey there. You’ve probably heard of me. I am the “Big Bad Wolf”. I know, I’m the bad guy. You must be terrified right now. You’re probably thinking “Oh my, oh goodness, it’s the Big Bad Wolf, whatever shall I do?” *looks over at the audience, expecting them to do that* Well, come on then. Give me a scream. *keeps waiting* Thank you. Or Huh. You must be too terrified to even scream. Of course, my real name is not “The Big Bad Wolf”. My real name is Victor Charles Nero Thomas Randolph Uncas Gerald Hubert Martin William Earl Kenneth Irvin Oliver Frederick Yancy Paul Adolph Blaine David John Sherman Lloyd Quincy Xerxes Strotsomeburgh. But of course the authorities had to give me a name like “The Big Bad Wolf”. Not even creative. But you haven’t heard the full story. Here is what really happened that day on Hudson hill…
This is where the three pigs lived, you see. And on the day this sugar-coated fairytale begins, I had just finished baking a batch of delicious cookies and was going around from house to house selling them to my neighbors. I skipped all the boring houses, like the ones with elephants, or crocodiles, or leopards. The only houses I liked to visit were the ones that housed chickens or pigs – basically just any delicious – uh… I mean… friendly creatures. I came to the first house – one made of straw – and despite the fact that I didn’t actually have my cookies with me, I knocked on the door. You know the conversation – “Little pig, little pig, I am selling some delicious cookies, would you like one?” The pig, being discriminating towards “hungry wolves” (Or maybe he just looked through the window and saw I had no cookies with me) said “not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!” “You have a beard?” “Yes, I’ve been growing it out” “care to show me?” “No! I’m still not letting you in!”
And right after he said that, I felt a sneeze coming on, which is weird, since I had been feeling fine this morning. It only came when I was standing in front of this straw house for some reason…
ACHOOOO!! And to my horror, the entire house collapsed, leaving the pig standing there in front of me! I got a good look at his new beard – quite scruffy - when he started running! “Wait, little pig!” I called. “I still haven’t given you my coookiiiieeeessss!” And I chased after him (Even though I didn’t actually have any cookies)! But unfortunately, he reached his destination – a house made of sticks, and ran inside.
“Little pigs!” I called. “Please let me in! It’s your good friend Victor Charles Nero Thomas Randolph Uncas Gerald Hubert Martin William Earl Kenneth Irvin Oliver Frederick Yancy Paul Adolph Blaine David John Sherman Lloyd Quincy Xerxes Strotsomeburgh! You can trust me! I’m selling some cookies! Care to try one?”
“Don’t listen to him!” Came the voice from the other side of the door. “He’s an evil wolf!” “Now, that’s not very nice!” I went to open the door, but it was locked. How to did this pig even manage to put a lock on a stick door? “Please let me in!” “Not by the hair on our chinny chin chins!” “Oh? You’ve both gotten new beards? Last time I saw you, you were both clean shaven!” “Last time you saw us, you tried to kill us!” “But it was just that one time! You can forgive me for that! It wasn’t personal! I was just particularly hungry. I was having this hallucination where whenever I looked at a pig, my brain saw a bacon sandwich! And you know how I can’t resist those!” “Bacon comes from pigs!”
Instead of replying, I gave another huge sneeze. But the house stayed intact. Huh, weird. Not weird as in I was trying to blow it down, oh no, but weird as in I just thought it might. My nose was still itchy, so I gave another big sneeze – again, not because I wanted to blow the house down – but because I was just so sneezy that day. This time, the house fell down and both the bacon brothers dashed off to the third brother’s house, and I ran after them.
Finally they arrived at the infamous brick house of the third brother, Mister Robert Xavier Fergus Matthew Samuel Louis Ian Daniel Oscar Kevin Eric Garret Neil Theodore Herman Christopher Arthur Quinn Patrick Benjamin Julius McRhymenspire, and ran inside.
“Oh, Mister Robert Xavier Fergus Matthew Samuel Louis Ian Daniel Oscar Kevin Eric Garret Neil Theodore Herman Christopher Arthur Quinn Patrick Benjamin Julius McRhymenspire, may you please open the door for me?” I asked. (Saying people’s full name is polite, but his one was really long. Who would have a name that long I ask you?) “I’m selling wonderful cookies!”
“My kinsperson have divulged me of your turpitude. Proceeding this juncture, you and your abhorrent confection are vetoed from this domicile in perpetuity.”
“Say again?”
“He means,” one of the other pigs replied, “That you can shove your cookies up your –”
AAAAACCCCHHHHHOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! Interrupting him, I let out the biggest sneeze I had done today. (My nose today, am I right?) But the house stayed intact. Not that I was trying to blow it down or anything. Then I let out an even bigger sneeze. And an even bigger one after that. But the brick house would not come down. “That’s it,” I growled. I had had quite enough of these pigs and their rudeness. “If you won’t accept my wonderful cookies that I spent so much hard work preparing and that I definitely do have right here, then I will have to invade your “domicile” and FORCE THEM DOWN YOUR THROATS. In the nicest way possible. Because I am a very nice person.” And with that, I proceeded to climb up the house and towards the chimney. “Um, excuse me sir?” I heard a voice coming from below say. “What are you doin’ up there?” “I am uh,” I coughed. “Invading – I mean – selling cookies – no, I’m… uh… fixing. This… uh… chimney. Yes, these lovely bacon – ehem – piggies needed help because their… chimney… wasn’t working? So they asked me to help out.” “DON’T LISTEN TO HIM!” One of them cried from inside “HE’S –” “YES, EVERYTHING’S FINE HERE!” I interrupted loudly. “MOVE ALONG NOW PLEASE.” “The chimney looks fine to me.” “AND HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?? DO YOU FIX CHIMNEYS PROFESHINALLY?” “Well no, I –” “THEN MOVE ALONG NOW! GOOD DAY SIR!” “Well ok then…” With him out of the way, I continued selling my cookies, very aggressively. I jumped down the chimney without realizing that the fire was on. I sat right on top of it and let out a high #F, to make any soprano singer proud. I scaled up the chimney like spider-man, ran down Hudson Hill, not stopping until I was safe inside.