Wolves Have Feelings Too

Look, I gotta eat, right? You've gotta eat, I've gotta eat, we all gotta eat. It's not like I have a choice, and unlike you human types, it's not like I have the option of strolling into the local super market to pick up pork chops. People tend to have a negative reaction to my presence, probably because of the big teeth I have. Plus, I don't have any money, since who's going to give a job to a wolf? My job qualifications consist of howling at the moon, running through the woods, and dressing up as a grandmother. Nope, no jobs there. So I have to get my food the hard way, and because of that I'm big and bad. Seriously, what else can I do?

So yeah, the pigs. Like I said, I was hungry. I politely knocked on the first pig's door, hoping he might have a few crumbs to spare, but would he let me in? No, none of that. He kept going on about the hair on his chinny-chin-chin, like I care about how he shaves. So yeah, I lost my temper and blew the house down. I mean really, the thing was made of straw. What idiot builds a straw house? He was asking for it. Survival of the fittest, you know?

Now the second pig, same thing, really impolite, if you ask me. So I blew that house down too. Again, a house made of sticks. He was asking for it just as much as his brother.

Now the third pig, he at least was smart enough to build a house of bricks. He wouldn't let me in either, so I decided to play a little prank on him. I thought I'd drop down the chimney just for fun, and what does he do? He lights a fire in the fireplace. I had singed fur and third degree burns that hurt for days. I mean, would he treat Santa this way?