Once upon a time there were three little pigs. The first little pig liked broccoli, so she built a restaurant that served elegant broccoli dishes. The second little pig loved eggs, so she built herself a bistro that served light fluffy egg dishes. The third little pig had no imagination, so she built herself a diner which served burgers and fries and gyros and tacos and pizza and, when she felt like it, blueberry pie.
Her sisters laughed at her. “That’ll fly when pigs fly,” they said. “You need to do something more niche and make videos about it. WE each have two million followers online.”
“Excuse me,” said the third pig. “Gotta scrape the grill.”
One day the Big Bad Chef came to town. He was a huge, hulking retired cook who now did Internet restaurant reviews, and got thousands of likes every time he savaged an eating establishment. “Little Pig, Little Pig,” he said, when he arrived at the first pig’s place, “Give me a free meal, or I will blow your place down.”
“Sure,” said the little pig.
“And just substitute sprouts for the broccoli in this broccoli a la Babe,” he said.
“Not by the hair on my….”
And the Big Bad Chef took his phone and he huffed. And the little pig’s restaurant closed within a week, and she had to go live with her sister, and was reduced to cooking broccoli side dishes at the second little pig’s bistro.
One day the Big Bad Chef came to the second little pig’s bistro. “Little Pig, Little Pig,” he said, “Give me a free meal or I will blow your place down.”
“Not a problem,” said the second little pig.
“And bring me an eight-egg omelet with nine kinds of cheese, so heavy it takes two of you to flip it over.”
The second little pig stood back, nose in the air. “Not by the hair of my….”
So the Big Bad Chef got out his phone and he huffed. And the next Tuesday, the bistro was being turned into a Malort bar and the two little pigs had to go live with their sister, imploring her to give the diner a little class by adding broccoli and crepes to the menu.
And in the fullness of time, the Big Bad Chef noticed the diner. “Little Pig, Little Pig,” he said, “Give me a free meal or I’ll blow your place down.”
“Get to the back of the line,” said the third little pig. “Who do you think you are, Kermit the Frog?”
Since this was the way the Big Bad Chef had treated his own customers when he had a place, he grinned and waited in line, though he was naturally plotting revenge. “How about that free meal?” he demanded, when he finally got to sit down.
“I don’t dump the leftovers until midnight,” said the third little pig. “Come back then and it’s all you can eat.”
“I like your style,” said the Big Bad Chef. “Do those sisters of yours help out in the kitchen?”
“They’ve never been a bit of use,” she told him. “But they did help with tonight’s special.”
“What’s the special?”
The third little pig jerked her snout toward the grill. “Pork chops.”
The Big Bad Chef set down his menu. “I like your style. Can you use a partner?”
So the third little pig married the Big Bad Chef and cooked happily ever after. Though no one heard from the Big Bad Chef online after that, and if you go to the diner, I don’t recommend the Chef Surprise.
Blogsy Babbles 