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My words (a random display of my own creative writing)

Mrs Olf and the three pigs

Three_little_pigs_-

Once upon a time there were three little pigs. They went to see their bank manager. ‘We are a tripartite alliance of small independent bacon producers who are seeking empowerment as individual entrepreneurs,’ they told her. ‘We’d like to access suitable funding for materials relevant to ensuring our independent well being.’

The bank manager, Mrs W. Olf, snappily dressed all in pure new wool, happily lent them the dosh. ‘It’s a guaranteed investment,’ she grinned.

The first little pig,  sorry, small independent bacon producer, constructed a sustainable dwelling from locally sourced straw. The second constructed a hutment from FSC certified wood with a zero carbon footprint. The third called B&Q and had bricks delivered.

‘What are you doing?’ iterated the former two parties of the first part.

‘I’m building a house, my porky little brothers,’ replied the latter, who had not participated in the regular vocabulary trainings facilitated by their HR department. ‘What does it look like?’

‘But there are no framework conditions for using this building material,’ exclaimed the first two. ‘There is no collective agreement for brick dwellings.’

‘I don’t do collective agreements,’ said their brother. ‘I’m a pig. And so are you.’

Notwithstanding this unexpected problem in the building area, at some point, Mrs W. Olf arrived and signalled her intention to reorganise the straw house and conduct a personal take-over of the occupier’s assets.

‘It’s Mrs Wolf!’ cried the first pig, running to his brother’s house. ‘Let me in!’

‘No, that’s Mrs W. Olf,’’ said the second little pig. ‘You’ll have to complete these forms, before I…’

But it was too late, Mrs Wolf had blown down the first house and was already coming up the garden path of the second.

The two pigs exited through a back window, as Mrs Wolf blew down the second house.

‘‘Why didn’t you realise the possibility of making your house stronger?’ said the first pig.

‘I didn’t know there was going to be such a significant outcome,’ panted the second, as they both ran to the third pig’s sturdy brick house.

‘Facilitate our entry!’ they shouted at their brother. ‘Mrs Wolf wants to reorganise us into a suitable breakfast repast!’

But the third pig held the door tight. ‘You can only come in if you talk normally,’ he said.

The two brothers looked at each other in horrified amazement. ‘You mean, give up all the phrases that facilitate our ability to communicate indefinitely without ever having to – ’

‘I’m coming to gitcha, pigs!’ snarled the wolf, who was now at the gate.

‘But we’ve spent years consolidating our knowledge pathways,’ argued the first pig.

‘Let’s have an information event,’ said the second.

But just at that moment Mrs Wolf made one mighty bound and ate them both up. Just like that.

Which goes to show jargon will only take you so far, but a good wool suit is a killer outfit.

Picture courtesy of Wikipedia, Japan, via Creative Commons at: http://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E4%B8%89%E5%8C%B9%E3%81%AE%E5%AD%90%E8%B1%9A

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About elainecanham

I started blogging because I'm a writer, and I thought I ought to. Now I realise that I blog because I like to; even when I can't think of much to say.

Discussion

23 thoughts on “Mrs Olf and the three pigs

  1. Fabulous story!

    Posted by olganm | October 8, 2014, 2:38 pm
  2. Brilliant! 🙂

    Posted by Jools | October 8, 2014, 10:22 am
  3. Stop everything!! This is the work of a true genius!! You must cease & desist all other forms of employment this instant!

    *’fecking love’ button

    Posted by Tara Sparling | October 7, 2014, 7:14 pm
    • Thank you Tara. I feel a warm glow. Although that might be because I’ve set fire to my trousers. Shame WP don’t have a ‘buy now’ button. Mind you, if I bought all your stuff and you bought all mine, we’d be back where we started.

      Posted by elainecanham | October 7, 2014, 7:40 pm
    • Where we started? I’m not going there again. I got soaking wet, and my wallet was stolen.

      Posted by Tara Sparling | October 7, 2014, 8:17 pm
    • At least you didn’t end up on a plane to Roumania with someone else’s passport.

      Posted by elainecanham | October 7, 2014, 8:31 pm
    • You were the one who stole my passport?? Why were you dressed like a 70-year old dressage master??

      Posted by Tara Sparling | October 7, 2014, 8:37 pm
    • That’s a bit cruel. It was my barrister’s wig. It once belonged to Captain Kidd. The other bits were my professional costume. He gave it to me one night in Belgravia, when I showed him how to… Oh my God! It’s a police raid, and I can’t find my luncheon vouchers….Wait, officer, I can explain everything.

      Posted by elainecanham | October 7, 2014, 9:11 pm
  4. “Like” 🙂

    Posted by lbwoodgate | October 7, 2014, 6:48 pm
  5. It’s good. Made me smile. Do I need to say more?

    Posted by roughseasinthemed | October 7, 2014, 6:27 pm
  6. Brilliant! I can’t compete with that! I don’t have the where-withal to confabrulate a jargonic commentation – so I just make the jolly words up. It doesn’t work as well.

    Posted by Bruce Goodman | October 7, 2014, 6:09 pm
    • Yes, but think of the marvellosity of not having those words cluttering up your brain…

      Posted by elainecanham | October 7, 2014, 6:10 pm
    • What a marvelustrous word marvellosity is! Seriously though, I couldn’t string any of that together. It is wonderlusterfully cleverousness incarnate. (And now I will stop).

      Posted by Bruce Goodman | October 7, 2014, 6:17 pm
  7. Did you “Finnish” your work? asked the party of the first part, or are the little pigs- independent bacon producers- just a ploy to skive off again. Ms. W. Olf is gonna get you…

    Posted by naptimethoughts | October 7, 2014, 4:51 pm

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