September 25, 2011

Yummy Wolf in My Wolf Tummy, By Sharon Lau

Our author writes: "Hi my name is Sharon Lau.  I am in 11th grade, and I absolutely love to create my own stories. Writing is a definite passion I have and I feel great when I share stories with others who appreciate my pieces, and I hope to bring my reader entertainment so they can too understand why writing is not only important but pleasurable."
It was a resplendent and sunny day on the second week of April. The sun was held high as ultraviolet rays shone on the whole village. The trees were blossoming with apples, lettuce, and stew – a great meal to start the day. Blue Jays and Red Robins flapped their feathered wings across the sky and flew in numerous circles. The glistening green grass colored the dull ground from winter. And as the female pigs went searching for food, the men were busy building their houses.
“Little brother, are you done building your house yet,” I asked.
“Yes big brother I am almost done. I just need to add a few more straws,” he quickly responded. I followed little brother as he traced his steps back to the farmhouse to gather more straws. Little brother was sure having the most difficult time of his life as he was perspiring to the point where he could lose no more water in his body. His navy blue shirt was splotched with darkened spots and his pants were falling loose to his knees. I paced back to my home and started to spread cement across the surface of a ruby red brick, and filled in the last hole on my wall. Then, at a glance, I saw a ferocious beast strolling towards my brother’s straw house through the peephole on my door. Oh my lord, was he big! Seconds later he appeared in front of little brother’s door.
Knock, knock, knock…
“Who… Who…. Who’s there,” whimpered my little brother.
“No body, just come out piggy piggy.”
“No! NO! Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!”
I stared and stared until tears started rolling down my face, through the peephole, trying to make out what this beast was. The beast had the body of an elephant, the legs of a cheetah, and the smile of a hungry bear. He was no ordinary animal; he was a wolf. Slowly, the wolf widened his mouth until all 42 of his teeth were exposed to our eyes. Water or I think it was saliva, leisurely dribbled down by his lips. Soon the saliva swathed all of his grey fur, creating a glistening coat that shared the same features as a mirror. Judging by the looks of his face he was an extraordinarily hungry wolf.
“Then I’m going to HUFF and PUFF and BLOOOOOW YOUR HOUSE DOWN,” roared the wolf. The wolf was not joking. The wolf took a deep breath in and then slowly turned his head to the left and then to the right, blowing down little brother’s straw house. Then little brother ran to our second brother’s home, whom had a house made out of sticks, when the wolf was not paying attention. Then the wolf stealthily tip toed to our second brother’s house and knocked on his door.
Knock, knock, knock…
“Who… Who’s there,” answered our second brother.
“No body, just come out piggy piggy.”
“No! No! NO! Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!”
“Well then, if you are being difficult I am just going to have to HUFF and PUFF and BLOW YOUR HOUSE DOWN!”
Once again the wolf sucked a whole ton of air into his mouth and blew the stick house down, approximately 20 sticks in each blow. One by one the skinny brown sticks flew to the ground. Then my two brothers rapidly ran into my house. I peeped in the hole and saw the wolf walking towards my house.
“Hehehehehe…,” the wolf grinned.
Knock, knock, knock…
“Who’s there,” I demanded.
“No body, just come out piggy piggy.”
“I will not.”
The wolf stepped back, inhaled some air, and blew with all his might.
“WHAT?! Why isn’t this house moving?” He blew and blew for a consecutive amount of times but could not blow my house down. What a silly wolf, thinking he can blow my brick house down. I peeped again and saw the wolf climbing onto the roof top towards the open chimney. I ordered my brothers to help me carry a big, murky black pot to the fireplace. I took out a match and rubbed it against the matchbox, ignited a fire, and tossed it on the woods. The woods started to burn and set off a pleasant cinnamon smell in the house.
“HAHAHA!! I am going to eat you little pigs,” claimed the wolf. The wolf was descending his way down the chimney until he idiotically found himself being boiled in the pot.
“Heheheheheheheheheheheheheehehehehehehehehe… Who’s going to eat who now,” exclaimed little brother.
Tick tock… It has been 30 minutes. I believe the wolf should be medium rare by now. My brothers and I used all our might to carry the pot with the boiled wolf to the kitchen. A little bit of paprika, a little bit of cinnamon, a whole ton of salt (some over the shoulder), and a hint of vanilla to do the trick. This was definitely not enough to flavor this big bad wolf. I grabbed a brush about 10 meters wide, 20 meters tall, and 5 inches thick and some honey to the counter table. Little brother helped me dip the immense brush into the jar of honey when we realized something was impossible.
“Big brother,” little brother whined.
“Yes,” I impatiently replied.
“The brush doesn’t fit in the jar…”
Oh… We all realized. Suddenly a light clicked in my head. Instead of trying to stick the brush into the jar we decided to pour the honey onto the brush – success indeed. Little brother continued to pour honey onto the brush as I coated the wolf in the delicious and sugary honey. The wolf was complete. It radiated a smell of fried chicken; we were all dying to eat him.
“Can we eat now?” asked little brother.
“Yes we may: 15 pieces for me, 10 pieces for our second brother, and 5 pieces for little brother.”
We diced each slice into the size of a tic tac. Our forks were raised with our left hand, poked on to the diced-sized meat, and placed into our mouth. We munched and crunched and sucked whatever we could, all to savor the delicious taste of the wolf. One word sums it all: DELECTABLE.

Image by LL Brooke.


Anonymous said...

This is such a great story! I love the imagery the author gives through out the story. I feel as if I am in the story enjoying the beautiful early spring day while all of the pigs build their houses, the pigs pride in their work gleams through splendidly. I can even smell the delicious food that is waiting to be enjoyed. As the story progresses I can feel the little pigs fear of what is to become them as the big bad wolf makes his way to blowing down each of their houses. The wolf’s cocky nature is quite evident as he attempts to catch his pork dinner. I cheered for the pigs when the oldest brother pig comes up with his plan to capture and defeat the wolf. I like the twist at the end of the story, not only do they manage to capture and defeat the wolf but they also proceed to cook and eat the wolf. I imagine that they’re cooking was much better than the wolf’s cooking would have been.

Anna W.

Anonymous said...

This is a very interesting story. The part that I enjoyed the most was the way the three little pigs are described. I have always thought of the three little pigs as being around the same age, height, and similar in all other aspects. This author however brings the pigs to another light by showing them as being different in age. I read it this way when they were dividing up how the wolf would be eaten; the eldest gets fifteen pieces, the second gets ten, and the third gets five pieces. The only way I could this being fair is if the last two are younger. If those two were younger it would explain why they did not build their houses stronger. This story makes me see the pigs in a new light and they other were not just dumb or lazy it could be that they were using their best abilities because they did not know any better. TG