Once upon a time three little pigs lived in a house made of straw, sticks, and reinforced concrete. They were very happy in their sturdy little home and regularly had the pot going over the fire to boil up tasty stews and veggies for their midday meals.

One day in the middle of one such meal they heard a knock on their door.

“Ello, who ees it?” cried the first pig, who was known for his Monty Python impressions.

“It is I, the big bad wolf,” answered a big bad wolf, who was preening on the pig’s doorsteps and admiring his reflection in the porthole window atop the entryway.

The pigs conferred briefly. They decided that seeing as how the wolf self-described as big and bad, they would rather not let him in – also because he seemed like a particularly irksome dandy.

“No thank you!” shouted the second pig. “We’re all set, full up on big bad wolves in this household!”

Flummoxed, the wolf peered in through the window. But he hadn’t been invited in so he could do nothing but step off the pigs’ property and return to his hideout in the woods.

The next few days, it was cold and snowy­. After completing a marathon of most excellent baking competition show episodes, the pigs decided to have a bakeoff of their own. The first pig made crumpets; the second, scones; the third, fig newtons. They stood around admiring each other’s creations.

“But who should we get to judge the bakeoff?” asked the second pig. “None of us are objective observers.”

Suddenly a knock came once more on the door.

“Ello, who ees it?” repeated the first pig.

“Um. A friendly neighbor, come to borrow some sugar!” But of course it wasn’t. It was the wolf again. He’d been sitting hungry in his den for three days, and had finally ventured out into the blizzard. Hunger made him desperate, and sharpened his cunning. He had come equipped with a red bonnet, which he now put over his head.

The third pig looked out the window. “It’s the big bad wolf again. He’s wearing a red bonnet and holding out a sugar jar.”

The other pigs sighed. “That dummy. Okay, what should we do?”

“Well,” said the third pig. “Maybe he can help us out.”

“How do you figure?”

The third pig opened the window a crack. “Hello, young miss. We don’t have any sugar, but perhaps you could take these treats off our hands.” And with that he stuck a crumpet, a scone, and a fig newton out on the windowsill.

The wolf, being hungry, scarfed all three down in quick succession.

“Mm. Those were tasty.”

“How tasty?” asked the third pig. “Would you say they were all equally tasty?”

“Noo…not exactly,” said the wolf, hesitantly. “I liked the last one the best.”

“The fig newton?! Ha! I win!” shouted the third pig, doing a little jig around the house.

The expressions of the other two pigs soured. “No fair. You asked leading questions.” They argued for a few minutes but eventually conceded the win.

“Hey, young miss,” said the third pig. “Would you mind coming back tomorrow? We’ll be doing some more baking and could use your expertise.” The wolf agreed, happy at the prospect of more treats. He returned home to his den and from that time on was a fair and objective judge at the pigs’ baking competitions, never again remembering that his initial purpose had been pork, not pies.

This post has been shared on Phoenix Helix’s Paleo-AIP Roundtable.

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