by T-Bone
“Little pig, little pig, let me in!”
“Not by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin.”
You know the story. Three little pigs fend off the big bad wolf, who threatens to “huff and puff and blow the house down!”
Not the case at all.
Seems the pigs used the wolf as an alibi. He yelled no threats and blew no house down. In fact, the wolf was nowhere near the pigs' joint. The dude was in the suburbs of Atlanta, looking for Hogzilla. We got spun, folks.
“Why would I waste my time with three little pigs when I could snag a thousand-pound porker and catch a movie at the mall all in one day?” said the wolf when contacted by authorities. “Three little pigs? I don’t know nothin’ bout no little pigs.”
According to the story in USA Today, the three little pigs actually lived on a farm in Serbia. The derelict runts broke out of their pen and into the farmer’s house and knocked over a TV. That's when the picture tube erupted, catching fire and burning the house down.
No huffing. No puffing (okay, maybe a little puffing; there was a lot of smoke). All three pigs were roasted in the flames. End of story.
So The Three Little Pigs is, in reality, a barbecue tale. And that is why we’re covering this story on Blogabillies today. Because Southerners love barbecued pork. And the truth is, that’s all the Three Little Pigs turned out to be.
I’ll take some beans and tater salad too, if you don’t mind.
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