Once upon a time there were two teenage flying pigs. When June came and school was out for the summer, and their parents suggested they get summer jobs and start being more independent, they packed their PlayStation and their Wii and left their parents' sturdy boring brick home to see the wide wonderful exciting world.
All that summer they roamed the woods, playing paintball games and having fun. None were happier or more carefree than the two teenage flying pigs. They made friends everywhere they went, crashed on new acquaintances' couches, and played video games with their new buddies. But as summer days grew shorter and fall approached, all their new friends were heading back to school and preparing for the year ahead. The two teenage flying pigs wanted nothing to do with all that, and continued to roam the woods.
There were no more couches to crash on or free meals, and the teenage pigs finally realized that they needed a real home. Unwilling to return to their parents' home, they agreed that they needed to get jobs, perhaps being phone psychics, or they would be left out in the cold rain with no roof over their heads. They talked about what they should do, but, as usual could not agree on a plan. The youngest teenage pig said he would build a house of straw and run his business there. It would take no time at all, and then he'd be free to watch DVDs and eat cheetohs between calls.
His brother, who was by no means a wise and responsible flying pig himself, told his younger brother, "A house of straw will blow right over in the wind." But the younger pig had made up his mind, and headed to a nearby farm to "borrow" some straw. His house was done in a day. When his parents came by to visit, his father shook his head and warned that such a house would never withstand the rain and wind and snow. Moreover, it would not protect him from a wolf attack. The young pig, as usual, blew off his father's warning, borrowed some cash to see him until his next payday, and went back to his DVDs.
The older brother, only slightly more sensible than his sibling, headed to a construction site to "borrow" some wood. His job was harder than that of his brother. It took several days to nail together a ramshackle shack, but at last he was done and ready to spend the winter watching DVDs and eating ramen and making psychic predictions.
His parents came to visit and again the father warned his offspring that such a house, while it might protect him from light winds and drizzle, was not strong enough to withstand the winter, or a dreaded wolf attack. The older pig brother, however, ignored his father's warning, borrowed some cash to see him until his next payday, and went back to his Grand Theft Auto 3.
The days went by. Father and Mother Pig returned home and spent their weekends adding weatherstripping to their brick house, insulating their attic, and securing their hot water heater to the wall. They lamented the fact that their sons were not the sharpest knives in the drawer, but secretly they enjoyed the quiet and neatness that had descended on their home. They cooked healthy vegetarian meals, watched classic films at night, and explored California cabernets.
The days went by and the older brother visited his younger brother. They were happy to see each other and relaxed on the couch to play some video games when a storm started brewing. The winds kicked up and the rain fell down... right through the roof. Then the walls blew away and the brothers and their cheetohs were soaked and soggy. "Quick!" said the older brother. "Grab the PlayStation and let's go to my place."
Through the wind and rain they ran until they came to the wooden house. They hurried in the door, set up the PlayStation, and picked up where they left off. Outside the wind howled and the rains pounded but they were safe inside with their ramen and games.
Until they heard a knock on the door.
"Dude! It's open!" shouted the older brother.
And who should walk in the door but a great big wolf. He said, "You've gotta help me! There's a crazy lady out there doing aerial shooting of wolves and the forest isn't safe anymore!"
"I guess you can crash with us," said the older pig brother. "But you'll have to help out with dishes and food and stuff."
"No problem," said the wolf. "Just hang on while I get my old lady and the kids."
He left and soon he returned with his mate and four pups, all of whom leapt on the couch. Soon they were all playing with the Wii and tossing ramen into each others' mouths. But when the pigs were ready to turn in for the night, the wolves were still partying. There was no place to sleep, and the noise level was louder than a rock concert on a summer night.
What's more, the wolves were (you should pardon the expression) real pigs, and there were bunny carcasses all over the floor. Finally the pigs had had it. They packed their ramen and cheetohs and Wii (leaving the PlayStation for the wolf pups) and flew home to their parents, where they (if not their parents) lived happily ever after.
The wolves lived happily ever after, too. Because, if you're a wolf, you really don't need a house of brick. (But a PlayStation helps.)