The Pig in the Fur Coat

Mortimer was a practical pig. So, when the weather became a bit chilly, he went to the biggest thrift store in town and started looking for the warmest coat he could afford. The coat he finally found was big and black and very, very furry.

He didn’t think twice before plucking it off its hanger and taking it to the register at the front of the store. Once there, he pulled his jar of pennies out of his bag and started carefully counting out the coins he’d need. A half hour later, he was the owner of a very warm, big, black, fur coat.

He left the store and put his new coat on right away.   A breeze blew by, and he drew the hood up over his head. He was toasty warm. He took his planner out of his bag. What was next on his list of things to do?

It was time to go visit his nephews. They’d recently moved away from home and built their own houses. Mortimer had promised his sister that he’d visit them and see how they were doing.

Luckily, he was a practical pig, and he’d packed a lunch.   He ate it as he walked into the forest to visit his nephews. It was a lovely day, now that he had his warm new coat. He enjoyed the walk.

He had just finished eating his apple, when he arrived at the first house. It was a lovely house, made of straw. It was a little impractical, but still very nice. He tucked the apple core into his bag and knocked on the door. “Little pig, little pig, let me in,” he called.

“Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin,” a voice answered.

Well, that was odd. Mortimer knocked again. He heard the banging sound of a door slamming on the opposite side of the house.   Something crashed through the bushes.

Mortimer hurried around the house to see what was going on. He saw his youngest nephew running into the forest. Mortimer was confused. He’d always been the favorite uncle, and usually his nephews were thrilled when he came to visit.

Maybe they were playing a trick on him. They’d always been rather mischievous.   Mortimer smiled. That was probably it. His nephew had run towards his brother’s house. Perhaps they were planning an ambush.

Mortimer started eating his jelly sandwich as he walked down the forest path. He was looking around carefully, so that he wouldn’t be surprised when his nephew jumped out at him.

There was no ambush on the way to his second nephew’s house. It was made of sticks and slightly sturdier than the last house. Mortimer put his sandwich wrapper in his bag, and knocked on the door still feeling a little jumpy.

“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in,” he called.

“Not by the hair of our chinny-chin-chins,” two voices called back.

He wasn’t quite sure what sort of game his nephews were playing. He knocked on the door again. Once more he heard a back door slam and heard something crash through the underbrush and run away.

Mortimer sighed. Perhaps he was getting old and didn’t understand young people as well as he thought he did. He took a doughnut out of his bag and nibbled on it thoughtfully as he followed his nephews down the forest path.

Soon enough, he’d arrived at the last house.   It was a strong, practical brick house.   Mortimer approved.   Nothing had jumped out at him on the way here, but the day was certainly feeling less pleasant. He brushed the crumbs off his new fur coat and knocked on the door.

“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in,” he called.

“Not by the hair of our chinny-chin-chins,” three voices called back.

He knocked on the door again and waited. Nothing happened. “Boys?” he called a little louder.

He heard voices, and leaned closer to the door.   “Boil some water. Maybe we can cook him and eat him,” a voice said.

Mortimer turned and walked quickly away. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he didn’t really want to find out. He’d tell his sister that she’d have to check on her sons on her own.

He reached into his bag, only to discover that he’d already eaten all of his lunch. How disappointing. Just then, a little girl came skipping up the path, carrying a large basket full of yummy smelling treats.

“Little girl,” he asked, smiling politely, “where are you going with that big basket of goodies?”

“I’m taking them to Grandma’s house,” she said.