Variation on a German tale

Once upon a time lived a Swinemother who had four little sucklings in her piggy home: Oon, Twain, Treth, and Fower. One day the Swinemother had to go buy a new set of cooking knifes from the village because her last good knifes went blunt with her last attempt to make quiche lorraine. And she told the four little sucklings to beware the Bad Doggy and never let him in.

But the Bad Doggy had been eavesdropping on the piggy home and was aware that the Swinemother would be out of town. As soon as she left, he went to the piggy home and knocked on the door three times: “Knock, knock, knock!”.

“My little piglets, this is your mother and I forgot to bring my wind jacket. Will you please let me in?”, said the Bad Doggy.

Forth to the door came Oon, the eldest and brightest of the sucklings, and said:

“You are not our mother, for she does not have such a deep voice. You are the Bad Doggy!”

So the Bad Doggy left and sat under the shade of a nearby orchard. Then he had an idea. And he ran to the piggy home and knocked on the door three times: “Knock, knock, knock!”. With his best possible falsetto, said the Bad Doggy:

“My litte piglets, this is your mother and I forgot to bring my sunglasses. Will you please let me in?”

Forth to the door came Twain, the second and loveliest of the sucklings, and said:

“You are not our mother, for it is not a sunny day today. You are the Bad Doggy!”

So the Bad Doggy left and sat under the shade of a nearby orchard. Then he had an idea. And he ran to the piggy home and knocked on the door three times: “Knock, knock, knock!”. Then the Bad Doggy said–with his best possible falsetto:

“My little piglets, this is your mother and I forgot to bring my leather handshoes. Will you please let me in?”

Forth to the door came Treth, the third and most eloquent of the sucklings, and said:

“You are not our mother, for she never wears leather handshoes over her silky hooves.”

So the Bad Doggy left and sat under the shade of a nearby orchard. Then he had an idea. And he ran to the piggy home and knocked on the door three times: “Knock, knock, knock!”. Then the Bad Doggy said–with his best possible falsetto:

“My little piglets, this is your mother and I just came back from the market but I’ve lost my keys along the way. Will you please let me in?”

And the four little sucklings saw no fault in the Bad Doggy’s impersonation. And forth to the door came Fower, the youngest and best-natured of the sucklings, and said: “So be it.” And Fower opened the door and the Bad Doggy walked underthrough the piggy home’s threshold and the sucklings gasped, and the Bad Doggy ate the poor youngest suckling alive and whole and in one single gulp.

So the other three sucklings ran around to hide themselves. And Oon–the eldest and brightest–hid in the old brick oven, and Twain–the second and loveliest–jumped into a drawer with spices, and Treth–the third and most eloquent–hid inside a teapot. Teapots in piggy homes are big because they need a fair lot of water.

And the Bad Doggy chase after them and turned the oven on and turned Oon into a crunchy box of rinds, and then he looked in the drawer with spices and poured honey into it and turned Twain into honey ribs, and then he ran to the stove and turned it on and put the teapot on it and added some spices from the drawer and turned Treth into a hearty soup.

And the Bad Doggy fell asleep in the piggy home until the eve when the Swinemother came back. And she saw the mess at home and understood what had taken place. So she took her brand-new machete out of her brand-new set of cooking knifes and cut the Bad Doggy open. And she saved Fower from the doggy belly, for the youngest and best-natured of the sucklings had been eaten alive and whole and in one single gulp.