hungry, a story

Katherine Phelps Copyright February 1998


One apple. One bruised, wormy apple was all he had left in the entire straw house. The first little pig gazed at the fruit with contempt.

The skill, the talent, the resounding artistry of his work deserved better than this. The world owed him. He confronted others with the swill they were being fed and the filth they were living in, and where was the gratitude? Were they so afraid of "The Truth" that they must ignore his sculptures?

He freely admitted that "Shit Brick" was probably too complex and subtle a work to be broadly appreciated. However, "Mud Pie: Studies 1, 2 & 3" should have at least garnered him an arts grant of kingly proportions.

The wolf was at the door and only one thing was to be done.

"I hear you brother!" The first little pig called out as pieces of straw began whipping around him in a whirlwind dance.

Just as the house began falling around him, the little pig opened the door to let the wolf in and was blown away. His pride being further bruised, he limped off towards the second and third piggies' homes.