Being a father and then a grandpa has been a wonderful thing. Especially for a story teller like me. I tell all the classics, like the Little Red Hen, the Ugly Duckling, the Five Pennies and more. Among original stories, toddler Lorna loved my ‘Dragon that Wouldn’t Share’ more than my other tales. My kids and then grandkids always loved my version of Three Little Pigs. ‘Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin.’ I do a very good big bad wolf. Of course over the years I kind of changed it up some and especially now for the Reality TV generation .

Others in the past have done the same: James Thurber in his Modern Fables for Our Times, ends the Little Red Riding story with this cautionary line: “Little girls aren’t as easy to fool these days as they used to be!”

So this is the telling of my grandchildren’s favorite version of:

Goldilocks and the Three Bears (or Those Three Little Pigs)

Once upon a time there were three Bears who lived in a little cottage in the middle of the woods. It was Saturday morning and in preparation of the noon kickoff of the West Virginia Mountaineer football game, the big screen TV had recently arrived.

Mama bear had prepared popcorn and BBQ wings but a check of the refrigerator showed the dismal supply of beverages and no ice at all.

“I know,” Mama Bear suggested, “I can stop at the Piggly-Wiggly and get some of that dip you like while I pick up pop and Papa Bear can drop me off while he goes after beer.” So all three of them left the house, hopped in their 1983 Chevette and took off through the woods, leaving a house full of snacks unattended just a few hours till game time.

Meantime, the three little Pigs living next door were stewing. “Smell that?” said one. “BBQ wings.” “Yeah she makes the best wings, and we’re not invited.” One jumped on the other. “We got kicked out ’cause you kept bringing up Pitt.” “No. no. It was the mess you made.” “Me?!? Mister sticky hands sitting on the couch.” “You eat wings with your fingers.” One defended. “Maybe that’s why you’re messy; you don’t have fingers!” The fight was getting louder when their brother hushed them. “Come here. Look!”

“What is that? Is that a little girl?” The other smiled “Yes and she looks lost trying to get into the gate at the Bear’s House.” They all smiled. “Maybe we should help.” The little girl was cold and frightened when she saw the Pigs approach her. They lifted the latch on the gate that she could not reach. They pushed her toward the door. “Hello!” Shouted one Piggie as he turned the door knob open. “They’re not here,” clarified another “We saw them drive to OOOOFF.” He gasped with a hard elbow to the rib. “Hello? There is a little lost girl here who is hungry.”

They took her to the table where the first little pig sat down in Papa Bear’s chair and began to eat up a whole bowl of wings. He did reach one to the hungry little girl. She ate it up. The Second little pig sat at Mama Bear’s chair and ate a whole bowl of finger sandwiches and half a bowl of chips. The third little pig sat in Baby Bear’s chair and ate a whole bowl of chicken nuggets and the rest of the chips. The little girl cried because she was still hungry.

The Pigs moved to the living room. The oldest took the whole couch. “See,”one of the younger pigs said, pointing to the BBQ sauce he was getting all over the couch. The second pig filled Mama Bears chair and quickly made it slouch to one side. The third pig climbed into Baby Bears chair and broke it down completely. They flipped on the big screen tv to watch the Mountaineer Gameday pre-game show while eating popcorn. The little girl stopped crying as she scrambled to eat up the popcorn mess the pigs were making on the floor.

After a few minutes the pigs were getting groggy. “Too much time til game time. I’m gonna find a place to sleep.” The oldest said, climbing the stairs to the bedrooms. “Then we should take her too,” said another at the little girl popcorn covered and asleep on the messy floor.

They turned the volume on the TV down as the pigs took the little girl upstairs and laid her in Baby Bears bed. Then they crashed on the beds for a quick nap. They hadn’t been asleep long when they heard the Bears arrive. “Boys, boys,” the oldest Pig shook his brothers. “The Bears are back, quick: out the window.” One asked, “What about her?” “Leave her! She’ll be fine.”

Mama Bear screamed when she saw the mess. “Somebody ate all my wings!” said Papa Bear. “Somebody ate all the food,” echoed Mama Bear. Baby Bear cried when he saw his empty bowl so Mama Bear picked him up and said, “There. There.”

“It’s probably coons.” papa Bear said, “It’s always the coons.” Mama Bear took Baby Bear into the living room to rock him. Her shriek made Papa Bear rush in. “My chair,” she said, “My couch!” said Papa Bear. Baby Bear cried when he saw his broken chair. Mama Bear picked him up and said, “There. There.” But she turned a wicked scowl at Papa Bear. “This all looks mighty familiar.”

“The Pigs.” Papa Bear muttered. But Mama Bear prevailed, “We can’t just accuse them. Let me put Baby Bear to bed and I’ll clean this mess up.” Papa Bear agreed, and turned up the volume because the game was about to start. He had barely found a nearly-BBQ-free spot on the couch when he heard Mama Bear yell and rushed up stairs.

Mama Bear could only point to the tow-headed baby girl sleeping in Baby Bear’s bed. “A human,” he whispered loudly, “Didn’t I tell you it was?” Mama Bear whispered back angrily, “you said the Pigs.” Papa Bear whispered back, “No, you said Pigs, I said it was the coons again.”

But the whispering argument woke the little girl who sat up screeming when she saw three bears. She leaped out of the bed, ran down the stairs, out the still open front door and off into the dark forest.

Mama and Papa Bear continue to argue about who said what, whether they should go help the girl or wait till after the game, and who might have left the front door open when they went for beverages.

And this is the true story of the Three Bears and how Goldilocks gets the blame for something those Three Little Pigs did every time this story is told.

And I would be wise to quit here. It always gets a laugh out of the grandkids and is the perfect ending.

But, as I said others have changed these stories before me, so before we move away from the Three Little Pigs, here is another version I heard when I was six (back in 1959):

Once upon a time there were three little pigs. One day the three little pigs stopped into a Malt Shop. The first little pig ordered a Chocolate Malt. The second little pig ordered a Strawberry Malt. But the third little pig ordered forty-four glasses of cold ice water.

But you shouldn’t think that is anything unusual. After all: somebody has to go wee wee wee all the way home.