The Three Little Hams – Part One
By: Bonnie Wurst – mtltimes.ca
Another Bonnie’s Babble Warped Fairy Tale…
In a tiny village in the ancient Hampton’s, lived three of the funniest little piglets who at eight weeks old were already known to be quite the hams. They frolicked happily in their pool of mud and their silly antics had everyone in the village, from the Roosters to the Billy Goats, smiling and laughing all day long. But one day the cows came home. Early.
The Civil war had finally reached their remote village and before they even had a chance to arm and leg themselves, the enemy arrived. The troops of Giganticous-Mart first introduced themselves, as it was a civil war after all, and then proceeded to wipe out every small business in the village. There was instant bankruptcy, not an entrepreneur was spared. Even the main piggy bank was under their control.
After the fallout everyone immediately packed up their meagre belongings and left the village for jobs in the outer kingdoms, never to return again – except for the three little piglets who managed to nap through the whole thing and so survived the carnage. Upon waking, they found the village deserted and wandered aimlessly around for days, scared and all alone. These little piggies had none.
One day a multi-dimensional congregation of sheep from a neighbouring village, discovered them sleeping inside an abandoned grocery store. They were all huddled together, little snorts and whimpers punctuating their dreams. A particularly soft-wooled sheep decided to take them home and care for them.
“Oy! How could we have left them there? So cute, you could plutz!” Mrs.Woolsky, a sheep of good stature, explained to her friends who had come over to see the new arrivals. And so the three little piglets were adopted and raised in a good and loving home. It was also a kosher home, as Mrs.Woolsky happened to be Jewish.
Years went by and they grew up the happy hams they were, frolicking in the mud when Mrs.Woolsky was away for the day. On most Saturdays after sundown, they could be found doing a few sets of stand-up comedy at the local watering hole.
Not long after their bar-mitzvahs they noticed Mrs.Woolsky was looking very tired. She cooked all day long for them, but could hardly keep up with their growing appetites. ‘Chazars’ (Yiddish for ‘eats like a pig’) she affectionately called them. They were adult hams now and Mrs.Woolsky raised them well, but she was getting older and shouldn’t have to be working so hard. It was time for them go out into the world. The countryside was once again at peace and they needed to find their place in it.
“Oy, I knew this day would come… you would leave me here all alone. Baa-Oy. But that’s fine. I understand. You have to move on and make your own lives. I’ll be okay, I have friends I could visit… when my gall bladder isn’t acting up… or my arthritis. Baa-Oy. But don’t you worry about me, I’ll be okay… really, baa-baa,” Mrs.Woolsky cried on the day they left, making them feel very guilty – which was a time honoured Jewish tradition. She told them to call her every day, pinched their chubby little cheeks and kicked them out the front door.
The three little hams found a nice piece of land just under a one hour trot from the village, a perfect place to build their first home. They asked for Mrs.Woolsky’s advice on what material they should use to construct it and she suggested using bagels. They were dense enough and allowed for good air circulation she explained. And so, using only the finest sesame seed bagels blessed by the Saint-Viateur, they put up their first home.
For several months everything went just swell. They made a nice home, with a beautiful garden and a mud pond in the back. A few times a month they went home to Mrs.Woolsky to feast on a supper she lovingly prepared for them even though she always complained it was too salty or too sweet, undercooked or overcooked or not enough – when in fact, it was always delicious and more than enough to feed an entire village. The evenings always ended with a round of guilt, a group hug and a bag of leftovers. They were then dutifully kicked out the front door. Mrs.Woolsky needed her bathroom space.
One spring morning the three little hams woke up to the sound of growling just outside their kitchen window. Peering through the curtains they looked out and saw a big wolf standing in their yard. Not just your everyday big wolf, but a big-bad-endangered Grey Wolf! They quickly shut the curtains. Moments later they heard a knocking at the door.
“Telegram,” came a strangely muffled voice.
“Where is your mailman uniform and bag then?” they asked, carefully looking out the window. They could see he was no mailman…
PART TWO IN NEXT WEEKEND’S MONTREAL TIMES NEWSPAPER!