Idol Mini: "The Big Bad"
The Big Bad
Idol Mini | week 1 | 1043 words
Someone who will love you in all your damaged glory
x-x-x-x-x
The wolf was trouble, and everyone knew it.
The pigs and goats and sheep were all terrified of him, and traded rumors constantly. “Nothing but splinters, was what I heard,” Barnyard Betty would say, and the old ram would follow with, “And they were never heard from again.”
The wolf was both a threat and a mystery, and also frankly the most exciting thing to happen to the Village in a long time.
Nobody had personally dealt with him, it seemed. But everyone knew someone or had heard about it from the friend of a friend, which proved everything. The wolf was not popular, but what else was new? He was a wolf.
For the wolf’s part, he knew that a lot of the rumors were true. But he wondered where the more imaginative lies came from, and why so many of them involved pigs. Truthfully, the wolf wondered a lot of things, including Whose idea was it to let three billy goats job-share being the Mayor? and Why is it so damn hard to get a good sandwich in this town?
Still, the wolf went about his business, and let the other animals do the same. Some days were simple and others more challenging. Sheep, for instance, were rarely a problem-the wolf could come and go as he pleased. Badgers were the opposite, every one of them determined to go claw and canine against him. Birds and mice were too small to bother with, and bulls were too large.
But pigs? Pigs were the worst.
One Monday morning, the wolf got wind of some pigs putting up houses in the newer part of town. The wolf hated Mondays, and he hated pigs (and the mess and the whining). But his reputation had been suffering lately, so he decided to pay the pigs a visit.
The first pig had built a house of straw. Aren’t pigs supposed to be smart? the wolf asked himself. The house was flimsy, already trembling in the breeze. What’s next, dead leaves? Blades of grass? Or, I know- feathers?
The wolf knocked on the door. There was no answer, but he heard nervous shuffling inside, so he knocked again and waited. After a few minutes of standing around, he decided to move things along.
He backed a few feet away from the door and bellowed, “Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
The house erupted with panicked squealing that made his ears shrivel. The wolf growled and paced. “I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!” he threatened. The door remained closed.
The wolf took a deep breath, and blew on the house as hard as he could. Straw flew everywhere, revealing a massive porker of a beast trying to squeeze himself under the kitchen table.
Pathetic, the wolf thought, and moved in to seal the pig’s fate.
The next house was made of sticks, and looked like the work of a brain-damaged pigeon. The wolf tried not to think about what held it together. Spit? Or maybe something even worse?
He went up to the door and knocked. A surprised “Oink!” came from inside the house, but that was all. The wolf knocked again and pressed his ear to the door.
Silence.
Fine. He stood back and shouted, “Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
The door remained closed.
“I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!”
The wolf heard rustling, which turned out to be a snake slithering out through the twigs. Disgusting! he thought. That was the sort of thing that could really diminish one’s appetite.
Finally, the wolf had no choice but to yell out, “I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!”
He counted to ten, and then he took a deep breath and blew with all his strength. The house exploded like a flock of startled birds, and the wolf spotted a shocked-looking pig in a shower cap soaking in a bathtub. Then the air filled with squeals that made the wolf’s ears tie themselves in knots.
The third house was a fine-looking two-story unit made with bricks. The wolf approached the door, and knocked. He heard music inside, but no one answered.
Not again!
The wolf pounded harder, and still no one came. He gritted his teeth. For the love of meadow mice, I don’t have all day, he fumed. “Little pig, little pig let me come in. Or I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!”
The wolf tapped his foot, counting down the seconds, then inhaled mightily. Then he blew and blew and blew until he coughed and wheezed and could blow no more.
Nice! He made a note on his clipboard, then started pounding on the door again. It opened mid-knock to a pig in a leotard and sweat band. “Was that you knocking before? I’m in the middle of Jazzercise.”
“Yes, it was. I need you to let me in.”
The pig snorted. “I’m not letting a strange wolf into my house. You could be a robber, or some other kind of attacker, or even a rabid maniac waiting to claw up my floors!”
“Let me in,” the wolf said again.
“No! Who do you think you are, anyway?”
“The building inspector!” the wolf yelled, and pulled out his badge.
“Oh,” the pig said. “Oh, I see. Well, come in then…”
The wolf followed the pig from room to room. He checked the floors and walls, he tested the plumbing, and he sniffed the electric sockets.
“This is first-rate work,” he told the pig. “You wouldn’t believe what I saw earlier today…”
“My brothers, probably,” the pig said. “Those two wouldn’t know drywall code if it bit them on the snout.”
“They’ll have a chance to try again,” the wolf said. “As many chances as they need, unless the Mayors start issuing fines.”
“This is an important service you provide,” the pig said. “The Village is lucky to have you.”
The wolf grinned a small grin, showing the minimal number of teeth. A kindred spirit at last!
The pig waved toward a chair. “Please, sit. Coffee? Juice?”
“Thanks,” the wolf said, putting his clipboard on the table.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
-/-
If you enjoyed this story, you can vote for it along with many other fine entries here. Check them out-- there is a lot of great stuff!
Idol Mini | week 1 | 1043 words
Someone who will love you in all your damaged glory
x-x-x-x-x
The wolf was trouble, and everyone knew it.
The pigs and goats and sheep were all terrified of him, and traded rumors constantly. “Nothing but splinters, was what I heard,” Barnyard Betty would say, and the old ram would follow with, “And they were never heard from again.”
The wolf was both a threat and a mystery, and also frankly the most exciting thing to happen to the Village in a long time.
Nobody had personally dealt with him, it seemed. But everyone knew someone or had heard about it from the friend of a friend, which proved everything. The wolf was not popular, but what else was new? He was a wolf.
For the wolf’s part, he knew that a lot of the rumors were true. But he wondered where the more imaginative lies came from, and why so many of them involved pigs. Truthfully, the wolf wondered a lot of things, including Whose idea was it to let three billy goats job-share being the Mayor? and Why is it so damn hard to get a good sandwich in this town?
Still, the wolf went about his business, and let the other animals do the same. Some days were simple and others more challenging. Sheep, for instance, were rarely a problem-the wolf could come and go as he pleased. Badgers were the opposite, every one of them determined to go claw and canine against him. Birds and mice were too small to bother with, and bulls were too large.
But pigs? Pigs were the worst.
One Monday morning, the wolf got wind of some pigs putting up houses in the newer part of town. The wolf hated Mondays, and he hated pigs (and the mess and the whining). But his reputation had been suffering lately, so he decided to pay the pigs a visit.
The first pig had built a house of straw. Aren’t pigs supposed to be smart? the wolf asked himself. The house was flimsy, already trembling in the breeze. What’s next, dead leaves? Blades of grass? Or, I know- feathers?
The wolf knocked on the door. There was no answer, but he heard nervous shuffling inside, so he knocked again and waited. After a few minutes of standing around, he decided to move things along.
He backed a few feet away from the door and bellowed, “Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
The house erupted with panicked squealing that made his ears shrivel. The wolf growled and paced. “I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!” he threatened. The door remained closed.
The wolf took a deep breath, and blew on the house as hard as he could. Straw flew everywhere, revealing a massive porker of a beast trying to squeeze himself under the kitchen table.
Pathetic, the wolf thought, and moved in to seal the pig’s fate.
The next house was made of sticks, and looked like the work of a brain-damaged pigeon. The wolf tried not to think about what held it together. Spit? Or maybe something even worse?
He went up to the door and knocked. A surprised “Oink!” came from inside the house, but that was all. The wolf knocked again and pressed his ear to the door.
Silence.
Fine. He stood back and shouted, “Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
The door remained closed.
“I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!”
The wolf heard rustling, which turned out to be a snake slithering out through the twigs. Disgusting! he thought. That was the sort of thing that could really diminish one’s appetite.
Finally, the wolf had no choice but to yell out, “I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!”
He counted to ten, and then he took a deep breath and blew with all his strength. The house exploded like a flock of startled birds, and the wolf spotted a shocked-looking pig in a shower cap soaking in a bathtub. Then the air filled with squeals that made the wolf’s ears tie themselves in knots.
The third house was a fine-looking two-story unit made with bricks. The wolf approached the door, and knocked. He heard music inside, but no one answered.
Not again!
The wolf pounded harder, and still no one came. He gritted his teeth. For the love of meadow mice, I don’t have all day, he fumed. “Little pig, little pig let me come in. Or I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!”
The wolf tapped his foot, counting down the seconds, then inhaled mightily. Then he blew and blew and blew until he coughed and wheezed and could blow no more.
Nice! He made a note on his clipboard, then started pounding on the door again. It opened mid-knock to a pig in a leotard and sweat band. “Was that you knocking before? I’m in the middle of Jazzercise.”
“Yes, it was. I need you to let me in.”
The pig snorted. “I’m not letting a strange wolf into my house. You could be a robber, or some other kind of attacker, or even a rabid maniac waiting to claw up my floors!”
“Let me in,” the wolf said again.
“No! Who do you think you are, anyway?”
“The building inspector!” the wolf yelled, and pulled out his badge.
“Oh,” the pig said. “Oh, I see. Well, come in then…”
The wolf followed the pig from room to room. He checked the floors and walls, he tested the plumbing, and he sniffed the electric sockets.
“This is first-rate work,” he told the pig. “You wouldn’t believe what I saw earlier today…”
“My brothers, probably,” the pig said. “Those two wouldn’t know drywall code if it bit them on the snout.”
“They’ll have a chance to try again,” the wolf said. “As many chances as they need, unless the Mayors start issuing fines.”
“This is an important service you provide,” the pig said. “The Village is lucky to have you.”
The wolf grinned a small grin, showing the minimal number of teeth. A kindred spirit at last!
The pig waved toward a chair. “Please, sit. Coffee? Juice?”
“Thanks,” the wolf said, putting his clipboard on the table.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
-/-
If you enjoyed this story, you can vote for it along with many other fine entries here. Check them out-- there is a lot of great stuff!