You need to change plans.
“What? Who goes there?”
You, Piggy, I’m talking to you. It’s me, the narrator.
“What is this voice in my head? What’s going on?”
Piggy, I-
“Get out of my head, this is madness!”
Piggy-
“Out! Get out!”
But-
“Leave!”
PIGGY, LISTEN!
Piggy sat on his hind legs in submission.
“I AM NOT SUBMITTING!”
Shut-up.
Anyway, Piggy waited patiently as the narrator prepared to explain why he would soon die.
“DIE? WHAT? No. I’ll get out of this. I can escape the wolf.”
Little did Piggy know, he could not escape the wolf. Two-hundred-thirty-nine of his kind had died at the hands of this beast. This would be-
“Two-hundred…thirty-nine…what? How? Is my family okay?”
They are dead.
Piggy sat in silence, stunned by the narrator’s words. Piggy didn’t know that the narrator was just joking.
“What! Don’t joke about that. That’s horrible.”
Piggy had no sense of humor, but the narrator ignored it. The narrator wanted to explain to Piggy how to survive this wretched wolf.
“Please do.”
Sure. In Piggy’s hand, a .40 cal appeared.
“Woah, what the hell. How did this get here? Did you just speak that into existence? How am I even holding thi-“
And a Tutu dress appeared around his waist.
“Hey! Not funny!”
Piggy, again, failed to recognize objectively good comedy.
“It’s not funny.”
It was.
“It’s not.”
Piggy was unable to speak after a random roll of tape dropped from the ceiling and closed his mouth shut.
Ah, that’s much better.
The uranium around Piggy had turned to mush. The wolf had been stalking Piggy, waiting to pounce, but he waited. And waited. And waited.
Suddenly, the wolf sprung to attack. He jumped from the rubble, scaring Piggy senseless.
Piggy muffled something into the tape that was probably very pathetic. He shot the .40 cal at the wolf, but there weren’t any bullets.
Piggy continued to shout into the tape. It was getting rather annoying. The tape magically ripped off of him.
“FINALLY! WHAT THE HELL! JUST PUT BULLETS IN THIS THING! THIS WOLF IS ABOUT TO EAT ME!”
Stop shouting.
“Please.”
Because Piggy said the magic word and submitted once again to the great and all mighty narrator-
“I am NOT submitting!”
Would you like me to take your bullets away?
“I am submitting.”
Piggy smartened up. He pointed the now loaded gun at the big, bad wolf and shot it dead.
“Wow…thank you narrator. You actually saved me.”
No problem, Piggy. Let’s have some more fun. What do you want to do next?
“Wait, you’re not leaving? What-“
Suddenly, one-hundred wolves appeared around Piggy.
“NOOOOOO-“
This story was a writing exercise based on the following prompt: The three little pigs are dead, as are the next 236. Straw, sticks, bricks, reinforced concrete, titatium it didn’t matter. They all fell to the onslaught of the wolf. Little piggy 240 is bracing for the inevitable attack, inside his house of depleted uranium.
