Trio of Tiny Swines: Part 3

Dear Far Far Away,

It was a bit of an emotional day today at the funeral of our dear friend Bacon. The procession went through the town, from Pork's straw hut, past my log cabin on the lake to the church just next to Ham's two-up, two-down terraced town house.

The service was beautiful and during our preprepared speeches we all let out our hearts just as the Huntsman had done to Bacon. His coffin lay at the front of the church, covering the ignominy of his mutilated body inside.

When the funeral ended, we all wished him a happy journey into the afterlife before heading off to his wake. This was all paid for in Bacon's will, which was just lovely of the thoughtful swine. The village hall and small disco were only trumped by the amazing spread topped off with a hog roast.

Yours,

Gammon.

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Trio of Tiny Swines: Part 2

Dear Far Far Away,

Yesterday morning I was sat in my city apartment drinking champagne from my crystal flute while counting my money. Alas, I still couldn't afford that brand new Aston Lupine. As a result, I brought in my lawyer so we could figure out who to screw some more money out of next. After casting aside countless landlords, tenants and prospective sellers, I found the perfect mark – a defaulted payment.

I glanced over the contract and found that it belonged to three little pigs that had come to me desperate for money. Despite my muted claims that they'd have far better interest rates at a bank, they had each mortgaged their ramshackle properties for a ludicrously small amount of money so that their friend had enough money to buy his dream.

My lawyer suggested that it wouldn't be ethical to demand money so soon after setting up the dodgy contract. I explained to him that the greedy little pigs shouldn't be enjoying my money while they were in my debt, but still he persisted on disagreeing.

Naturally, I huffed and I puffed and I sent him packing. What does he think I employ him for?

Yours,

Reginald D. Wolf, Esq.

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Trio of Tiny Swines: Part 1

Dear Far Far Away,

A few weeks ago Bacon invited myself, Pork and Gammon over for a bite to eat. He was celebrating the construction of his high security eco-house. Built into the side of a hill, Bacon had accommodated all modern conveniences from fine china swill bowls, to a fully insulated sty with a trotter pedicure set.

We arrived at his house to find a note on the door: “Out truffle hunting, please let yourself in and make yourself at home”. Pork had tried the handle but found that Bacon had engaged the security system, and we were all locked out. Rather than waiting outside we decided to go and find Bacon in the forest.

Some time later we stumbled across a man and a lady having an argument. It seemed that the man was told he had to kill the lady but she didn't much fancy dying. We spotted Bacon pottering about beneath a tree not far from them, seconds before the man lashed out, killing Bacon. The man then proceeded to gut Bacon and steal his heart, while the lady ran off.

Well, although we couldn't save Bacon we asked some of the animals to keep an eye on the lady to make sure she was safe. The world just isn't safe with psychopaths running around gutting innocents.

Poor Bacon, God rest his soul. Even his legacy was a bit of a waste of time – noone can get past his security because it's all trotterprint protected.

Yours,

Ham.

Part 2 >