As we all know, there were once three little pigs, three brothers, who set off from home to make their fortunes in the big world. The first pig built himself a house of straw. The second built his house of sticks. The third labored long and hard to build a sturdy house of brick.
One day the third pig (who really didn't much like to leave his little brick house, for fear of the Big Bad Wolf) went to have tea with his brother who lived in the straw house.
"Brother," he said as he sipped his Earl Grey, "why do you insist on living in this house of straw? You should build yourself a house of brick, like mine. It's much safer."
"Thanks, but no thanks, Brother," said the first pig. "I like my little house of straw. It suits me. It's cozy and cheerful, and easy to maintain."
"But what will you do when the Big Bad Wolf comes? You'll be a sitting duck, if you'll pardon the metaphor."
The first pig shrugged. "The Big Bad Wolf hasn't been seen around here for years. And even if he did come, pork isn't his favorite dish. I'd probably be safe."
"But," the third pig persisted, "if you lived in a house like mine, then you'd definitely be safe. Why take the chance?"
"It seems to me, brother, that what you've built for yourself is not a house, but a little brick prison. I'd rather not live like that. Good day, brother."
Another day, on another one of his rare jaunts to the outside world, the third pig went to have brunch with his brother who lived in the house made of sticks.
As they nibbled cantaloupe slices and sipped mimosas, the third pig told the second pig about his conversation with their other brother. "He is so unreasonable! If only I could make him see that brick houses are best. He would be so much happier, because he wouldn't have to worry all the time. You, at least, are a little more forward-looking and civilized. You have built your house of a somewhat sturdier material—sticks. But now that I've told you how wonderful my brick house is, surely you'll join me. Surely you'll tear down your little hut of sticks and build a real house, like mine."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Brother. You may like living encased in cold, dark brick, but I am sure I would not. My house is light and airy, and though it's a little harder to maintain than straw, it's more durable, too."
"But what about the Big Bad Wolf?" demanded the third pig. "When he comes, you'll be completely vulnerable."
The second pig shrugged. "My house of sticks offers me a little protection. But it's impossible to keep from ever being vulnerable. Why, you and I are vulnerable right now, as we sit here."
The third pig suddenly set down his champagne flute with a clunk. "Good God, you're right!" he said, his eyes wide. "I'd forgotten all about that!" And he promptly jumped up and ran home, though whether he cried "wee, wee, wee" all the way is a matter of speculation.
Time passed. The first two brothers led carefree lives, foraging for food in the forest and returning at night to the little houses they had built. The second pig, with the house of sticks, one day had an encounter with the Big Bad Wolf himself when he was out frolicking and picking flowers. The pig ran, and the Wolf chased him—but the Wolf wasn't all that hungry, and soon gave up the chase. "That was a close call!" thought the pig to himself when he dared to stop running, listening to his rapid heartbeat. "But I suppose it's the price I pay for freedom."
Meanwhile the third pig, who had labored so hard to build his house of bricks, now labored to fill his house with food and supplies. When that was done, he labored for money so that he could buy a rifle and ammo. He'd heard that the Big Bad Wolf had been seen in the area, and "better safe than sorry," he always said. Back at home, he sat in a chair facing the door, with the rifle slung across his lap, just in case. Hour after hour, day after day he sat there. He was lonely, he missed his brothers, and he missed the outside world. His food supplies were running low, and he no longer had fuel for his fire. "But," he said to himself, "I suppose this is the price I pay for freedom."