This hilarious hard-boiled twist on the classic fairy tale, The Three Little Pigs, was the result of our 2009 Young Writers Summer Camp. While all our campers’ twisted tales were excellent, this one stands out–a story that can be enjoyed by kids and adults alike.
by Israel M., 13

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8:00 AM , Monday

It all started Monday morning. As the bustling
city finally woke, my telephone buzzed. The
department was calling. You see, I’m a detective, Detective Volfe.  They were calling me to investigate
a brutal murder.  I called my partner, a beautiful poodle by the name of Volga and we met at the crime scene.

It was a cardboard box, obviously a pig’s home, and it was burning. A dirty, bloody pig lay beside it, motionless on the floor, with blood pouring from his body and seeping to the trash. It smelled like bacon.

“Check for a pulse,” said Volga.

“No pulse,” I responded.

We waited for the coroner. He pulled up ten minutes later.

“Cause of death?” I asked the coroner. He studied the body.

“Blunt force trauma to the head,” he said.

“I thought so. Looks like he was drunk and got into a fight with a local passerby.  You can tell by the broken Vodka bottle and cut right here along his forehead.”

Volga and I started asking around for witnesses. We found a single witness, a pig by the name of Swiney. He had recorded the murder on his phone. I watched it.

“Let me in,” a mysterious voice ordered.

“Who’s—hiccup—there?” said the pig. He was clearly intoxicated.

Next there was a scream and unrecognizable dialogue. Then a CLANG! CLANG!  The murder weapon: a bat.

“This is for my brother,” a voice muttered.

I turned to Swiney and asked the question we all needed to know the answer to, “Did you know this pig?”

“No,” he replied.

2:00 PM, Monday

Deciding to do a DNA test on the piece of ham, we took him to the lab, otherwise known as the HQ. At the front desk a pig met us sobbing and screaming, “That’s my brother!”

As I approached the squealer, I noticed bloodstains on his shirt, bags under his eyes and the smell of liquor seeping from his pores.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“His brother,” he answered. “Um, let me explain. His name was Stye … well that’s our last name. His first name was Pig.”

“Go figure,” I scoffed.

“He had swine flu and I was going to check on him. I’m John by the way.”

“Why didn’t he stay with you, John?”

Something seemed fishy.

“Um … my apartment isn’t fit for more than … um … one person.”

He was hiding something and my partner could sense it too.

“Well, we’ll let you know when we find the killer,” she said, flicking her beautiful coat to and fro.

5:00 PM, Monday

We decided to stop by John’s house to check in on him. After knocking for ten minutes, it was time to force our way into his apartment. You should have seen the way Volga broke down the door. Wow.

Immediately upon the door opening, we were slapped with a sour, rotten smell. Blood stains plagued the carpet.  Volga made her way to the kitchen. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed. I followed pursuit.

“Holy Shiztu!” I muttered. Bodies were draped on the wall like curtains—pigs, cats, dogs, birds, everything—blood dripped from each.

“Do you think John killed them?” Volga asked.

“I think so… Where is John?” I replied. I walked into the bedroom and caught a glimpse of
myself in the mirror. I had matted fur, dirty and grimy. My suit was wrinkled and messy. Thoughts raged through my head. Maybe after this I should apply to med school. Sigh. There was no way the girl of my dreams, Volga, could like me like this! There’s no way! Something as perfect as her couldn’t want this. Maybe I should just settle down and go get some Tequila with my Chihuahua friends…. crazy Mexicans. I smoothed my hair as I walked away from the mirror.

“Volfe, over here,” she said to me. I walked into the bathroom and there was John, hanging there with a rope around his neck and a gunshot to the head.  “Looks like a hanging ham,” I joked.

We searched the place top to bottom, no gun. I ventured outside the apartment and asked the neighbors if they saw anything.  To my surprise Swiney was one of the neighbors! He told us he heard something say, “This is for my brother!” Then he heard a gunshot. He peeked out of his window and saw a masked wolf fleeing the scene of the crime.

9:00 PM, Monday

Took the bodies down to the lab. I asked Volga to dinner tonight. She rejected me, again, of course. What can I do to get her? I’ve pondered this for weeks. I passed out at around 11:00, alone.

7:30 AM, Tuesday

Woke up to a call from Volga.

“Get up sleepy head!” she said in her Italian accent.

“I’m up! What’s up?” I replied.

“There’s someone here at the station you should meet.”

“Ok, doll, on my way.”

30 Minutes later

I arrived to my destination only to meet yet another pig.

“Hello detective, I am Sir Pigsalot, maybe you’ve heard of me?” he said in his annoying British accent I so loathe. I scanned him. He was middle aged in a white business suit, obviously wealthy and wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Actually, no I’ve never heard of you,” I said in disgust as Volga checked him out. Maybe she likes ‘em rich. Maybe if I was wealthy?

“Bloody shame, John was my closest friend. Please inform me of any developments, Cherrie-Oh!”

10 minutes later

“Hey, Volga, you want to go get a bite to eat?” I asked nervously.

“Sure! I’d love that!” Emotion filled me to the brim, she said she would, she said yes! Off we drove to the diner, talking all the while.

12:30 PM, Tuesday
After the meal with Volga, I was intoxicated with love. But it was cut short when we got a call. Sir Pigsalot’s mansion was burning. We rushed down to find Sir Pigsalot cut up.

“Looks like a pork chop,” I joked. Volga laughed. It was the first time she’d laughed at my
joke.

We rode with Swiney in the ambulance. He was unconscious.

2:30 PM, Tuesday

We were standing next to Swiney’s bedside when he awoke. He coughed.  “Hey,” he muttered.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I was in the bathroom when I heard someone say, ‘This is for my brother!’ Then I heard an
explosion and then I blacked out.” Swiney closed his eyes. “I might know who the killer is.”

“Who!” Volga and I exclaimed in unison.

“Well, three years ago, Stye, John, Pigsalot and I set up a wolf by the name of Jose. When the cops were trying to arrest him, he shot at them and ended up dead. Now his brother Mark is out to get us!”

I thought for a few minutes and came up with a plan.

“I have a plan,” I announced.

5:00 PM, Tuesday

I was holding post outside Swiney’s apartment. A wolf in a mask pulled up in an old beat-up Crown Victoria. He made his way to Swiney’s door. Knock! Knock!

“Who is it?” Swiney answered.

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in!” the wolf mumbled.

“Who is there?” Swiney repeated.

“You s-s-set up my brother!” the wolf stammered.

“Mark?!”

“This is for my brother!” Mark screamed. He broke down the door and pulled out a gun.

I ran to tackle Mark. He pulled out his gun and shot at Volga. I jumped in front of her to protect her.

“Ahhh!” The bullet hit me in the shoulder. Volga screamed my name. I clutched my arm and dizziness overwhelmed me. Black out!

Epilogue – Five Years Later

The Big Bad Wolf—that’s what we call him—was charged with murder. Currently, he’s waiting to be cooked. As for me, Volga and I are married with nine pups. I’m also a physician.  I guess you could say … we lived happily ever after.

The End