Three Pigs, part 3

The third pig was named Trio, for his mother had little imagination, and he too traveled his own path.  Before he left, however, he cleaned his shirt, pressed his trousers and arranged for his mother to give him a good haircut, for cleanliness is next to godliness, or so he was taught.

He traveled at his ease, singing a song his mother taught him, taking the path his brothers had not, and strolling at his leisure.  After a time, without him breaking a drop of sweat, he strolled past a farmer.  The farmer ask him, “Sir pig with the golden locks, might you transport this load of bricks to the dump for me?”  

Trio laughed and said, “I shall make my money lighter than that load you offer.” 

Then, just before him, he saw a penny on the ground.  He picked it up, placed it in his lined pocket and said, “A penny saved is a penny earned!” 

The farmer looked at him with new eyes and said, “You are wise, sir pig, and I would wish to know your wisdom.” 

Trio said, “Talk is cheap, but wisdom is expensive.  Should you wish to know my wisdom, it will cost you three gold coins.” 

The farmer replied, “It is worth three coins to obtain words which might bear me ten,” and he handed over three coins.

Trio then explained to the farmer all the sayings he had from his mother: “Good things come to those that wait,” “Ask not what your country do for you, but what you can do for your country,”  “Put your money where your mouth is,”  “Dance to the beat of a different drummer,”  He taught him how to “make a mountain out of a mole hill,” and  how to “keep up with the Jones” and many other sayings with helpful explanatory commentary by Trio himself.  Somehow, he failed to tell the farmer  how not to “not throw pearls before swine,”  so at the end of the hour, the farmer gave Trio three more coins.

He then said, “This is wisdom beyond measure, Sir Pig.  Might I gather some of my friends to listen to your speech?” 

Trio said, “As long as they have three coins each to give for the wisdom.”  The Farmer had learned much already from Trio and explained how they could all listen to Sir Pig for only four coins each.

It was not long before Sir Pig (as Trio is now known) spoke ten lectures a week, had a book deal and was signed up for a television show.  As soon as he had a moment to breathe (for he was so popular he had to hire an assistant to catch his breath), he hired a contractor to take the pile of bricks he was originally offered, and many, many more, and they were built into a massive, secure fortress for Sir Pig.  He was so popular, he needed a place of solitude, so he made sure the walls had extra insulation, the roof was extra secured and the doors and windows extra thick.

Every evening, when he wasn’t out of town, he locked his doors, secured his windows, closed the fireplace flue, and played classical music quite loud, for the improvement of his soul.  

Prime finally wandered back home, and found this brick palatial fortress.  He knocked at the door, and begged for Trio to open the door, but this was Friday, Trio’s Richard Wagner evening, so he couldn’t hear anything beyond his headphones.

This very night Wolf attacked.

He had heard about this brick palace, and Wolf decided that it was a night in which stone might finally fill his always-empty belly.  His deep darkness, blowing wind and sucking entrance into another dimension surrounded the house and Wolf called out, “I am the wolf, little pig, and you will let me in.”

Trio focused on the Ride of the Valkyries, hearing nothing else.

Wolf spoke again, “You have no future.  I am the vortex.  I am the fear no on escapes.  I am the power of the end.  You cannot avoid me.  Chaos and Death follow me in my wake.  Breathe in, little pig and know that my darkness descends.”

Trio shook his imaginary baton to Der Tannenbaum.

Wolf spun and sputtered and screamed and spoke in his most thunderous tones, “What care I for your petty bricks and music!  I am the Devourer!  I only care for you as the tiny morsel you are.  Now I descend.”  So he descended and raged and blew and burst and sucked and caused great violence.  To no avail.   Wolf raged until he realized that he wouldn’t make a dent against the house, nor would Trio even give him a hint of the fear he so greatly desired. 

So Wolf traveled on, saying to himself, “The pig is probably sour. Not worth my time.”

As he stepped aside, he found Prime, easily for Trio had cleared out all vegetation and stone so they wouldn’t block his view of the sunset.  Wolf took satisfaction in quickly devouring Prime, for a pig in the mouth is better than two in a brick house.

Prime screamed and yelled and begged for his brother to let him into his fortress.  But to no avail, for screams are as silent as threats on the inside of a fortress.

Meanwhile, Trio stopped the music and spoke aloud to himself.  “I wonder how my brothers are doing?  I wonder if they had as good fortune as I?”  He then chided himself for his doubt.  “I am sure they are doing well.  After all, they are both hard workers, have the same wisdom from our mother as I, and have great integrity… indeed! Greater integrity than I!  I am sure that they have all the security and peace they could ever want.”

And Trio placed the headphones upon his ears again and descended into Wagner’s funeral music. 

Three Pigs, part 2

The second pig was named Deutero, for his mother had little imagination.  He walked along his own path and he too came across a farmer.  The farmer called out to him, “Little pig, I have a pile of tree debris that needs to go to the dump.  If you take it there for me, then I shall pay you well. “

Deutero thought about his mother who taught him that the best thing was to find a patron, work for him, show his worth and so have work and security forever.  He replied, “Dear sir, I see you are a farmer.” 

“So I am” 

“Might I conjecture that you have just cleared a field to ready for plowing.”

“That is true.” 

“Perhaps I could make a deal with you.  I am a hard worker.  I would like to plow, plant and harvest your field.  For my work, I will receive housing upon your land, board for the year and a stipend.  After my work, you will receive the harvest to do as you please.”

The farmer considered and replied, “I like your plan.  I, myself, would not be able to prepare this land for another year, so I would be happy to allow you have a go at it.  Do as you say, and for your housing, I offer you this pile of wood, and the land on which it stands.  Prepare the field, build your house and I will pay you fairly for the harvest you work for.”

Fortune smiled on Deutero. (Fortune is really a nice woman and doesn’t care for anyone to fall into evil.  But, like anyone, she has grumpy days.)  By day, he worked the field and every evening he cut down the wood and slowly built his house.  He lived for a time out in the open, under a wooden awning, but soon his house came together.  It was two stories, with extra rooms for a family, an outdoor shed and eventually marks of beauty that only a master woodworker can create.  A small world he called his own.

At the end of the year, he harvested and gave to the farmer all he had promised, for he was a pig of integrity.  The farmer also paid him fairly, as he promised, and he said that he would hire him the next season to do more work.  With half of his earnings, Deutero ran out and purchased the most secure locks and fencing he could purchase.  With the balance, he placed the coins under his wooden floor.  “Finally,” Deutero said to himself, “I have security and peace.  I am ready for a wife and children.”

The next day Wolf came.

But first, as it would happen, Prime came to visit his brother, Deutero.  He told him of his misfortune.  He spoke of his deal with the farmer, the loss of his money, his sickness and of his final misfortune.  “Since my house was destroyed by Wolf, I have been in hiding.  I sleep in the bushes, behind stones, hoping beyond hope that Wolf doesn’t find me and finish the devouring  he began.”

Deutero didn’t laugh, for he cared for his brother and mourned the misfortune.  After sympathizing with him, though, the second pig reprimanded him.  “You have been foolish.  Didn’t you know that mother told us to find a patron and to work faithfully for that one patron?  Only then will you reap the benefit of security and peace.”

“That isn’t what mother told us at all,” Prime said.  “Perhaps you were too young when you heard her speak.  She said that a pig should trust with integrity, and God will give us good fortune.”

Deutero replied, “I know that mother spoke nothing of gods or of evil, mystical wolves that devour our ill fortune.  It seems to me, brother, that this wolf of yours did you a favor.  You are well rid of your tainted straw.  I think you are better sleeping on the street than in a condemned house.

“Speaking of which, I fear you must go, my brother.  Tomorrow I rise early to seek a wife, and so I must sleep well to look proper for my true love.”

“But I hoped that perhaps I could get some sleep here… it has been so long since I slept a full night…”

“Perhaps another time, my brother, but not tonight.  Tonight I must sleep the sleep of five so I might seek my future tomorrow.”

So Prime left his brother and wandered outside to seek a rock to obtain some little shelter.

That very hour Wolf descended upon Deutero’s wood house and said, “I am the Wolf, little pig, and you will let me in.”

Deutero laughed and said, “I think not, dear wolf.  My future is secured.”

Wolf replied, “You have no future.  I am the vortex.  I am the fear no one escapes.  I am the power of the end.  You cannot avoid me.  Chaos and Death follow me in my wake.  Breathe in, little pig and know that my darkness descends.”

Deutero laughed again.  “You cannot reach me, Wolf.  I have the best security money can buy.”

Wolf raged and blew against the wood, and it began to crack. “WHAT CARE I FOR YOUR PETTY LOCKS AND FENCES?  I AM THE DEVOURER.  I ONLY CARE FOR YOU AS THE TINY MORSEL YOU ARE.  NOW I DESCEND.” And Wolf spun and enclosed himself upon the homestead.  

He pulled the fence up from the roots, deep in the ground, he cracked the foundation of the house, he splintered the wood around the locks, and devoured all the house, coins, pig and all.

Behind a rock, Prime stood in shocked woe as he saw all his brother had worked for… and all he had not worked for… destroyed in an instant.  Once Wolf was sated, he looked up and saw Prime and said, “SOMEHOW YOU SURVIVED MY MEAL. STAY, MORSEL, AND I SHALL SWALLOW YOU IN ONE GULP.”  But Prime had learned from his fear over the last year, and ran to hide from Wolf, successful again.  

Wolf, however, has no disappointments, for he knows that all things belong to him in time, so he continued his travels.

Three Pigs, part 1

There is a time called “Once Upon”, in which there is not measure, no  number, no marking of passage, no specific order.  It is a universe all to itself, with its own rules and we cannot impose upon it anything from this world. Scientists are mystified by it, theologians laud it, but ultimately know nothing about it.  Physicists secretly relish it and attempt to achieve it with their theories, but they are still far distant from the poets and mystics , who visit it frequently, and give us only snapshots of the wide pallet of colors and ideas that exist there.

In that place were pigs. I am sure there are many, but I will be speaking of only three.  They are called “little” but that is only the case in comparison with the enormous hogs of twentieth century United States.  The fact is, for Once Upon, these pigs were pleasantly average, well-mannered and  interesting to speak to.  Not minuscule in any sense: size, intellect or hope.  Especially hope.  Their hope was powerful and full of wisdom and strength, gracious and without end.  The direction of their hope is this: that they might live safely, with security and peace all the days of their lives.  They would like wives and children, perhaps multiple of each (please remember they are pigs), but they were unready to even consider such luxuries.  First, they needed a life of security in which wives and children could be placed.

And so, although they were brothers, they wandered apart from each other to seek where security could be found.  They did not intend to wander to different nations, but only within a day’s walk of each other, for in their wisdom they knew that security is best found in numbers.  Yet, they also knew that wives and children would demand independence, so they kept a fair distance from each other.  And, in the end, intentions are not reality.

The first pigs name was Prime, which was not a name at all, but simple a designation of birth.  Birth is often a mockery, however, and Prime’s fortune was ill found.  He came across a farmer who was getting rid of a huge pile of straw, and he called out to the pig: “If you wish, I would gladly pay you to carry away this straw.” 

The pig thought for a moment and realized that while straw makes a piss-poor shelter, but shelter it is, and it might be enough to bundle stacks together, make a frame, place loose straw upon it and so make a house.  The pig was about to accept the farmer’s offer, when he remembered to inspect the straw before accepting it.  He dug into it, and sniffed it and realized that it was full of the most foul-smelling stench-mold he had ever smelled.

 “How much would you pay for me to carry it away?”  he asked. 

“Well enough,” said the farmer slyly. 

“I fear I have no cart in which to carry it.” 

“No worries, I’d be happy for you to take this wood cart here, and if you should carry it back, I would very much appreciate it.” 

“If I took it, I would surely bring it back, for what would I do with it otherwise?”  Prime was a pig full of integrity.  

“Well, then, have we a bargain?” 

“Yes, I think so,” said Prime.  He collected the cart, took a number of hours piling the straw upon the cart and approached the farmer for his pay.  The farmer gave him three gold coins, which seemed like a more than fair price for his labor, so he then pulled it himself toward the dump site. 

At the dump site, he unloaded the straw, breathing in the noxious fumes for the second time that day, and then, finally finished, he walked away from the pile.  A man ran after him, saying, “Good sir, where are you going?” 

He said, “I have finished my labor and must return this cart.”

“But you must first pay the dump fee.” 

“Oh, I had no idea there was a dump fee.  This is an empty field, and it looked as though dumping were free for there was no sign posted otherwise.” 

“Sorry, this is a government field, and you can’t just do as you please with government land.” 

“Ah, well, how much is the fee?” 

“Three gold coins.” 

“But this is all I have!” 

“Of course not, sir, you also have that cart.” 

“No, I don’t!  I have to return the cart to the farmer who loaned it to me. “ 

“I am sorry, sir, but that is the fee.” 

So he handed over the three coins.  He returned the cart to the farmer, by night, for he did not want to face the man in case he knew of the fee and so had cheated him of his labor.

Prime walked on, and found he had a cough.  He coughed more and more, and soon he found himself unable to walk.  Kindly Old Woman passed by, and offered him a ride to the local clinic on her ass. (Don’t be crude by thinking that.  You know I meant “donkey”, but “ass” is more old-timey.)  There he was diagnosed with Black Lung, for which there was no cure.  

He received a grant from the government to pay for housing.  As he arrived at the housing department, they looked at his voucher through slit eyes as though he were a thief and said, “You are granted field 2547 as an allotment for housing.”

Prime coughs and says, “Is there shelter there?” 

They reply, “On every allotted field are the materials to make housing.  You must build it yourself, for this is an opportunity, not a handout.” 

They give Prime a map to Field 2547 and as he arrived, he saw that he was granted the very same pile of straw for housing that had given him his illness, not moved even an inch from the spot he had labored so hard to place it.

He slept as far away from the pile of straw as he could, but it rained hard that night, so the next day, with soaking clothes, he determined to make a shelter out of the straw.  He used his initial plan, making thin bundles of the straw, creating the frame of a house and then covering it with the loose straw he had left over.  That night he slept with some ease.

The next day, the Wolf came.

He is called “wolf” only as a formality.  He had no teeth, no fur, no legs.  Rather, he was a deep, dark cloud, ever swirling, ever blowing, ever creating a vortex which has no end.  He travels from land to land in Once Upon, never stopping, always existing, always creating harm from nothing, and causing all to descend into nothing. 

The Wolf, in his travels, came by Prime’s house, surrounded it and whispered with his voice of thunder and hurricane, “I AM THE WOLF, LITTLE PIG.  AND YOU WILL LET ME IN.”

The pig shivered in his damp clothes, and replied, “I would really prefer not.”

The Wolf replied, “I AM THE VORTEX.  I AM THE FEAR WHICH NO ONE ESCAPES.  I AM THE POWER OF THE END.  YOU CANNOT AVOID ME.  CHAOS AND DEATH FOLLOW ME IN MY WAKE.  BREATHE IN, LITTLE PIG, AND KNOW THAT MY DARKNESS DESCENDS.”

“I know of you, Mr. Wolf, and I tremble before you.  Should you pass by my house, I shall worship you and you shall be my god and I will do as you say.”

“WHAT CARE I FOR WORSHIP? I AM THE DEVOURER.  I ONLY CARE FOR YOU AS THE TINY MORSEL YOU ARE.  NOW I DESCEND.” And with the merest breath the Wolf swallowed up the straw and it descended into the emptiness.

Prime, however, was wise, and during Wolf’s last, slow speech, he slipped under a straw wall and hid behind a stone, large enough to shelter him from the swirling chaos.  As Wolf was satisfied with his tiny meal, he passed by and traveled to another land.  Prime, meanwhile, coughing horribly, traveled back toward his home town.