Not by the Fuzz of My Jowls that Quiver

I admit, I’m making an interesting (cringey?) creative choice today.

I actually started in a very different place this week. The piece I thought I’d be sharing carries a lot of emotional weight. It’s heartfelt, deeply touching, and centers on a final exchange I had with a high school girlfriend who left us far too soon. I look forward to sharing it.

But as I was working on it—dipping in and out of the news—it all just felt too heavy. So I gave myself permission to play.

Silliness is a side I rarely show people. I’ve often been accused of being “too serious.” Mostly by my mom, to which I’ve developed a very practiced defense.

But today, Your Honor, let the record show: I can also be silly.

And in this very serious time, maybe a little silliness is exactly what we need to make it through the week.

For full effect, I highly recommend listening to the audio version.

So without further ado…

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Not by the Fuzz of My Jowls that Quiver

During my sophomore year of high school, my English teacher, Mr. Bova, gave us our next assignment: translate a well-known story into our own words.

Naturally, I seized the opportunity to flex my burgeoning writer muscle.

To really challenge myself, I chose a personal favorite: The Three Little Pigs.

But I didn’t just rewrite it.

I translated it—into what I can only describe as poetically ambitious swine drama, which I’m hoping becomes a legitimate literary category after this post.

What follows is the unedited masterpiece I turned in, followed by a close read no one asked for.

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Three Small Hogs

by Linzi Cora

Once upon a time

Three small hogs were fully grown

It was time for them to get out

And live on their own

The plan was to shelter each other

Erect a house

And outdo one another

A house of straw was built by the primary hog

Perhaps what he needed was a dwelling of logs

Sticks and twigs made up the second hut

You will behold in the finale

He had nothing to strut

The last hog house was made of brick

He may not have built it very quick

But the house was strong and very stout

The brothers will realize they should have taken this route

The houses were built

But it wasn't time to party

A test from the wolf

Would ascertain who's the smarty

The wolf rapped on the door made of straw

The hog shook in terror and watched in awe

As the wolf huffed and puffed

And blew the straw away

The small hog dashed to his brother's

For a brisk hideaway

Here the hogs presumed

They were safe and sound

Thinking the wolf

Was no longer around

The big bad wolf came

And whisked the house in

So they ran to their brother’s

To seclude once again

"Sit back and loaf"

The third hog said

"This wolf could blow

Till his face turns red

The fact is

My house is ardent

And isn't coming down”

“Au contraire!” said the wolf coming round

"Small hogs, small hogs, bade me come hither”

“Not by the fuzz of my jowls that quiver!"

The wolf huffed

And puffed

With all his might

But the house never budged

Left nor right

The wolf gave up

And went on his way

Leaving the three small hogs

To come out and play

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Close Read

And now for a snout to tail investigation. Let’s go stanza by stanza.

Stanza 1

Once upon a time / Three small hogs were fully grown / It was time for them to get out / And live on their own

We open with a fairytale classic and then immediately pivot to a logistical crisis: fully grown, yet still so small. Hog puberty, like that which human teenagers experience, is a weird time. We might compare this to the experience of heading off to college for the first time.

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Stanza 2

The plan was to shelter each other / Erect a house / And outdo one another

Erect was a bold verb choice. I love how this quickly escalates from mutual support to full-blown sibling rivalry. And I’m pretty sure this could be a new HGTV spin-off.

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Stanza 3

A house of straw was built by the primary hog / Perhaps what he needed was a dwelling of logs

I feel like when you’re the “primary hog,” you’re usually the over-achiever, but here he really messes up. In the second line, I’m basically saying, ‘This guy’s an idiot.’

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Stanza 4

Sticks and twigs made up the second hut / You will behold in the finale he had nothing to strut

“You will behold in the finale”—I was clearly trying to warn the reader about what is coming. Also: I’m kind of mixing metaphors with “nothing to strut” but at the same time inventing a new standard of shame.

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Stanza 5

The last hog house was made of brick / He may not have built it very quick / But the house was strong and very stout / The brothers will realize they should have taken this route

After two architectural disasters, finally—we have an actual house. It didn’t win any prizes for speed, but let’s be honest, he’s the reason these hogs survive, so everyone just needs to be grateful.

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Stanza 6

The houses were built / But it wasn’t time to party / A test from the wolf / Would ascertain who’s the smarty

I have to say, the rhyme of “party” and “smarty” is unreasonably delightful. Really fun to say. But also, I don’t know what sophomore uses “ascertain.” I must have consulted the thesaurus and shoehorned it in. It’s tight, but I think it works.

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Stanza 7

The wolf rapped on the door made of straw / The hog shook in terror and watched in awe / As the wolf huffed and puffed / And blew the straw away

The dramatic tension really starts to build here! “Watched in awe” feels a little generous for watching your house get obliterated, but he was probably just frozen in fear. It’s hard to say.

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Stanza 8

The small hog dashed to his brother’s / For a brisk hideaway

Now he has unfrozen himself. We’ve shifted from freeze to flight. “Brisk hideaway” sounds more like a weekend yoga retreat in Napa but let’s go with it.

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Stanza 9

Here the hogs presumed / They were safe and sound / Thinking the wolf / Was no longer around

This is a classic horror movie mistake—the overconfidence, the presumption. The assumption that a predator with super-lung capacity will just give up. We all know what happens next.

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Stanza 10

The big bad wolf came / And whisked the house in / So they ran to their brother’s / To seclude once again

“Whisked the house in” makes this housing crisis sound kind of magical. And now, the pigs are back on the run, while “seclude” takes me back to the weekend hideaway in wine country.

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Stanza 11

“Sit back and loaf” / The third hog said / “This wolf could blow / Till his face turns red”

This hog is clearly chill, smug, and maybe a little bit high. And if so, no wonder it took him so long to build the house.

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Stanza 12

“The fact is / My house is ardent / And isn’t coming down”

“Ardent”?? I either didn’t understand the definition, or I intentionally assigned feelings to the house. Either way, this pig is winning.

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Stanza 13

“Au contraire!” / Said the wolf coming round

This is the exact moment the wolf gets a beret and a cigarette. I don’t know why he’s suddenly French, but I do agree that this was the perfect comeback.

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Stanza 14

“Small hogs, small hogs / Bade me come hither”

I must’ve translated this after attending a Renaissance Faire because we’re now squarely in Shakespeare-pig territory, and there’s no turning back.

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Stanza 15

“Not by the fuzz of my jowls that quiver”

This is my absolute favorite line of the whole thing. We’ve got fuzz. We’ve got jowls. We’ve got quiver. Never have three words come together so beautifully—as a Victorian insult in a pork-based horror story that I would definitely read and watch.

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Stanza 16

The wolf huffed / And puffed / With all his might / But the house never budged / Left nor right / The wolf gave up / And went on his way / Leaving the three small hogs / To come out and play

A powerful and poetic ending. We wrap with rhyme, resolve, and an all-clear for outdoor recess. After a lot of huffing and puffing—and against all odds—our heroes survived. It’s a fitting finale to a saga of straw, sticks, bricks, and brotherly redemption.

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Final Note

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You wrote this at 15?

I mean.. how could I have known the joy it would bring 33 years later?

How could I have known I’d one day share it—proudly—with adult friends, extended family, and total strangers on the internet?

And yet… here we all are.

Proof that sometimes, the things we write just for a grade end up being the things that last.

Oh, and yes—Mr. Bova gave me an A.

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In case you missed it…

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