Story Time with Uncle Tony

One time a long time ago, like when you could get brasciole at a decent price, there was three little pigs, Vito, Knuckles and Wide Load. Vito was the oldest, Wide Load was the biggest and Knuckles was a moron.

I know a lot of you boys and girls might live in the city and the closest you ever come to pigs is your fat cousin Carmella, but let's not get off on the wrong foot here, OK? There was three pigs.

Now these pigs were living on the farm with their parents, nice-nice, and then one day they got to thinkin' that maybe they'd be better off on their own, instead of takin' orders from Mr. and Mrs. Pain-In-The-Ass, so one night they sneak out and hit the road. Being that they got no thumbs, hitchhiking was out, so they tromped along through the countryside all night until they came upon an abandoned farm. It looked just like the one they used to live at, except it was rundown. But our three heroes weren't strangers to dirt, they practically ate it for lunch, so this didn't stop them one little bit. Also, being that the early life of these porkers didn't include public school, the sign that said "Property of Wolf. Get The Hell Out of Here!" didn't either.

So in the farmhouse they go, find it empty, and settle in. Well, boys and girls, they weren't in there long when Knuckles looks out the window and sees the Wolf coming up the pathway.

"Not for nuthin'," says Knuckles, "but did either of youse invite a wolf over?"

"Lock the freaking door!," yells Vito.

When the wolf comes to the door, he finds the door locked. He's thinking: I leave to get more beer. The door is open. I come back. The door is locked. I'm confused.

The wolf looks in the window. With great timing, Knuckles pops up to look out the window.

"You got a problem," says the wolf.

By this time, Vito's got the back door locked and Wide Load is leaning against the front door, and everybody's hoping for a nice lightning storm.

"Hey, pigs," yelled the wolf. "You got till I count three to come out of my house, or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow the joint down."

Vito gathered his wits and drew on his courage and his responsibilities as the oldest sibling and defender of the family.

"Yeah? Your mother!," he shouted back.

Needless to say, boys and girls, this didn't go over real big with the wolf.

"OK, starting the countdown," says the wolf. "ONE!.."

Inside the farmhouse, Vito is trying to remember some good prayers and Knuckles is raiding the refrigerator, when Wide Load suddenly stops leaning against the doorframe and stands up straight.

"We got nothing to worry about, boys," he says. "This house is made of good, strong wood. It could use a visit from Merry Maids, but he ain't blowin' this joint down."

It made sense. Unless this hairy, slobbering, buck-toothed mope outside had the lung power of a jet engine, they were safe. Inside the farmhouse things calmed down.

Outside the farmhouse, more counting.

"TWO..," yelled the wolf. And then he stopped.

His brain was working, too, boys and girls. It was telling him that it was his own house he was threatening to blow down. It was telling him that five beers before noon didn't do anything for his decision making. It was telling him that there was a side cellar door that three future pieces of bacon didn't know about.

And so, as the sun set on the farmhouse at the end of that very interesting day, there were three less pigs to include in the next census, and there was a contented wolf, with not only a drinking problem, but the beginnings of high cholesterol, too.

Which brings your Uncle Tony to the moral of this tale: The next time your mother tells you, "don't be such a pig!", you'll know what she means.

Go to sleep.