Having easily trashed the straw and stick houses of the three pig brothers, he was feeling quite proud of himself. Sure, this last house was a bit more sturdy, but they didn’t call him the Big Bad Wolf for nothing. He only wished his dad could be here to see his son in action. But, alas, Papa Wolf had run up against that damn little kid, Peter and was now confined to a cage in town, snarling at tourists.
Wolf did some stretches, a few jumping jacks to get his heart pumping, then drew in and exhaled several deep breaths. Ready, he turned to face the little brick house and smiled. This was going to be fun.
He roared, “alright pigs, come out now or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down!”
The door of the house flew open and out marched Bernie, the smartest and most practical of the pig brothers. His two cowardly siblings could be seen with their noses pressed against the inside of the living room window.
“Where’s your mask!” demanded Bernie, “what kind of example are you setting for the community, huffing and puffing and blowing a contagious virus around in this time of pandemic crisis?”
Speechless, Wolf stared at the pig. Suddenly, he started to sneeze, triggered by Bernie’s particularly obnoxious cologne.
Bernie jumped back, “jeez, you’re too much!. Here, put this on and start acting like a responsible member of society.”
Handing a mask to Wolf, the pig turned and marched back into the house, slamming the door behind him.
Fidgeting with the mask, Wolf tried to get it on over his large ears and protruding snout. Finally, with the mask barely covering the end of his nose, leaving most of his gleaming white fangs exposed, he gave up. Obviously, the mask was designed for a little pig, not a big bad wolf.
His shoulders slumped. He was a failure, an apex predator without a job, just another gig worker lost among the masses of the structurally unemployed. He should have listened to his wife, who’d been telling him for weeks that bullying was out of fashion.
But he’d done everything right, worked hard, followed in his dad’s footsteps, listened to all the advice, practiced in front of a mirror the growls and looks that made a Big Bad Wolf really scary.
He sighed, yes, he’d done everything he was supposed to do, but he’d always had doubts.
Wolf turned and started the long walk home. Then, he stopped, remembering-
deep in his heart, he’d always wanted to be a ballet dancer.
Moral: Little pigs are nothing to sneeze at.
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