Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Flash Fiction Challenge: Fairy Tale Update

One of my favorite people to read in order to get inspired is Chuck Wendig.  He's a fantastic writer and an inspiration.  He's willing to give writers a swift kick in the pants in order to get them writing.  Every once and a while, he will put up a writing challenge for his followers.  This week's challenge is to redraft a fairy tale and have the setting be some modern place and time.  Here is my entry:

The Three Little Allies

                Once upon the 1940’s there lived three jubilant, little pigs that often played tricks on their mother.  That is, until they had a little mishap with a blowtorch and a Roman candle.
                “You boys are nothing but trouble!” Mom cried.  The cigarette that she held in her pink hoof smoldered.  She lifted it up to her small lips and took a deep breath.  The ash grew to twice its size and fell to the floor as she lowered her hoof.  The three boys sat on the couch and watched her nostrils flare as she breathed.  “I can’t stand it anymore.  I know that I shouldn’t do this but I’ve had it up to here,“ she said, holding the cigarette above her head.  Ash dropped down in to her beehive hairdo.  “I’m kickin’ you out.”
                “What?” Frankie cried.  He was the youngest out of the group and easily the most handsome, with his oblong face and petite snout.  “You can’t just kick us out!  Where are we going to live?”
                “You can go out and build your own homes to live in for all I care.” She walked them to the front door.  “Go make something of yourselves,” she said, shooing them out.  “And watch out for the big bad wolf,” she warned before slamming the door shut.
                And with that, the three little pigs were thrust out into the world.  They walked the streets, trying to figure out what to do.  They were so deep in thought that they didn’t even notice the big bad wolf stalking the trio in hopes to learn a little something about them.  Joey, the middle brother, looked to the eldest for a few words of wisdom.  Winston was always good for that. 
                “Oh, Winston,” he said.  “What are we going to do?”
                “We are going to move forward and build our own home.  We shall not flag or fail,” Winston mumbled.  He puffed on his cigar and stood, deep in thought.
                “I don’t know if I can…” Frankie started.
                “Don’t worry about it, little brother,” Winston said.  He patted Frankie’s head.  “Come now, let’s drink away our sorrows for the night.  We can deal with them at the dawn.”  He led his brothers into the Yalta Pub for a little scotch and a few words.
                The next morning, disheveled and hungover, the brothers made their way to an alley in the suburbs where they could start building their new home.
                “A nation that destroys its soils destroys itself. Forests are the lungs of our land, purifying the air and giving fresh strength to our people,” Frankie cried out.  “I will not cut down any of these precious trees!  I will build my house out of straw.”
                Winston looked at the scattered, adolescent oaks lining the sidewalk and puffed on his cigar.
                “What about the…” Joey’s voice wavered.  “The big bad wolf…” he whispered.  “He’s going to huff and puff…”
                “He can feel free to smoke crack somewhere else while I’m building Frankie’s Fortress of Love.  Now go away, I’m busy,” Frankie said, shooing away his older brothers.  He clapped his hooves together.
                Winston chuckled and pulled Joey aside.  “Leave our little brother,” he laughed.  “We can build our own house that will be able to withstand the huffs and puffs of the environment.”
                “Yes.”  Joey smiled in agreement.  “I have this wonderful home, in mind, made of sticks.”
                “Sticks?” Winston gave his brother a cockeyed stare.  “Nevermind.  You build your house and I’ll build mine,” he said.  He pointed across the street.  “Go build over there.”  Joey grunted and walked away. 
                The next morning the wolf stood on the front porch of Frankie’s straw house.
                “Little pig, little pig, let me in,” he called through the front door.
                “Fuck you,” Frankie called out.
                “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down!” 
And that’s just what he did.  Frankie sprinted to Joey’s home, which was built of sticks.  Joey welcomed his brother with open arms.  He was just about to explain what happened when they heard a voice from the front door.
                “Little pig, little pig, let me in,” the wolf called.
                “Fuck you!” they cried out in unison.
                “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down!” 
And that’s just what he did, just as he had done before.  The boys immediately rushed to Winston’s brick house.  Winton welcomed them with open arms.
                “Little pig, little pig, let me in,” the wolf called.
                “Fuck you!” they cried in unison. 
                “Then I’ll…
                “You’ll what?” Winston asked, opening the front door.  He held a shotgun to the wolf’s chest.  “We shall go on to the end,” he whispered.  “We shall fight on the porch.  We shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air.  We shall defend our home, whatever the cost may be.  We shall fight in the fields and in the streets.  We shall fight in the hills.”  He paused to cock his gun.  “We shall never surrender.”
                Adolf looked into Winston’s eyes.  “I just wanted to know if you’ve found God…”  His voice was meek.  He handed Winston a pamphlet.
                Winston stared at the German words scrawled along the cover.  “Mein Kampf?” he read.  “Get off my porch,” he grunted. 
Winston slammed the door in his face and turned to his brothers.  “Well,” he said, leaning his shotgun against the door.  “Who wants some tea?”
“You’re just going to leave him…” Joey’s voice trailed off.
“I think I have some crumpets left on the counter,” Winston added as he filled the kettle and set it in the fireplace.  “We’ll have to talk about the living arrangements.”  The wolf grumbled as he shimmied down the chimney.  They turned toward the noise just as the wolf landed on the hot kettle and bolted straight up the chimney like a cork out of a wine bottle.  Winston nonchalantly turned back toward his brothers.  “I get the master bedroom and I have a tendency of sleeping naked.”

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