The Adventures of Snout the Brown-Snout Pig: A Modern Fairytale Series

By John D. Evans

The story of the Three Little Pigs is famous, as is their victory over the Big Bad Wolf. But what if there was actually a fourth little pig who was never mentioned? Meet Snout, a brown-snout pig and the fourth sibling of the Three Little Pigs. Snout is lovable, wise, and courageous, but a series of wild adventures will put him to the test.

He leaves home to find his way in the big, scary world. He goes to a farm and meets three blind field mice with big dreams. They want to become house mice, but a mean old farmer could stand in their way if Snout doesnt step in. Snout travels even further, though; he makes it to church, to the bank, and even to far off Hollywood!

The Adventures of Snout the Brown-Snout Pig is a four-volume, sixteen-story collection of modern fairytales. Through these stories, children learn that nonviolence can be powerful, that strength does not lie in brute force, and that good can triumph over evil. Snout learns, too, as he grows from a little piggy into an adult pig, thanks to his many brave quests and colorful friends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781475999945

John D. Evans

John D. Evans is a poet, author, educator, and founder of The Evans Poetry Collection. He is a member of the Poetry Society of America, the Academy of American Poets, and the Illinois State Poetry Society. He is the author of several books and collections, including Things That Make My World Go ’Round, How Deep I Can Be, and Diary of a Renaissance Man.

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Copyright © 2013 by John D. Evans.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-9993-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-9995-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-9994-5 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013914012

iUniverse rev. date: 08/20/2013

THE SNOUT SERIES

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Foreword

From the Author

Volume I

Fourth Pig:

Snout Goes to Bear Land:

Snout Goes to the Farm:

Snout Goes on a Cruise:

Volume II

Snout Goes to School:

Snout Goes to Work:

Snout Goes to Chicago:

Snout Goes to New York:

Volume III

Snout Goes to Jail:

Snout Goes to Church:

Snout Goes to the Bank:

Snout Goes to Hollywood:

Volume IV

Snout Goes to Broadway:

Snout Goes to Wonder Land:

Snout Goes to the Hospital:

Snout Goes to Deep Land:

About the Author

The Evans Poetry Collection

Unit Lesson Plan

Foreword

There are approximately 2.2 billion children who live and play in our global village which we know as Planet Earth. When the Elders of the village peer into the sparkling eyes of these 2.2 billion souls, we see hope, the promise of a new day, and our bridge to the future. These 2.2 billion souls delight us with the songs they sing when they are happy. Their melodious laughter, insatiable curiosity, and playful banter inspire us. One would think that in the 21st Century, particularly with the proliferation of lap-tops and iPods and other technological devices that have the potential to become great vehicles for learning, that literacy would not be a problem.

Surprisingly, literacy has become such a problem that many world leaders have made it a national priority in their countries. Educators, businesses, academic institutions, parents, and world leaders are rethinking how they can improve the literacy rate for the 2.2 billion souls who are the global village’s Next Generation of Leaders, Husbands, Fathers, Wives, and Mothers. Is there any age-appropriate literature for the village’s children? Where are these books—books that will not only fire up the imagination of 2.2 billion souls but also teach them valuable life lessons? Who writes them?

And then along comes one of the Millennium’s masterful storytellers, John D. Evans! His work first came to my attention in 2004. Over the years, I have had the distinct honor of publishing his essays and poetry in a quarterly international Fatherhood and Men’s Issues Journal—IN SEARCH OF FATHERHOOD(R)—for which I serve as its Managing Editor. John is an educator, humanitarian, awarding-winning folklorist and poet, and International Men’s Day (https://sites.google.com/a/imd-global.org/international-mens-day) Regional Coordinator for the State of Illinois who has penned a collection of age appropriate literature that takes the form of a delightfully entertaining four volume body of literature and is also a candidate for the prestigious Editor’s Choice Award—THE SNOUT SERIES! John’s work as an educator has provided him with keen insight into how the adults of the world can and must motivate the 2.2 billion souls in our global village to embrace literature that helps to provide them with skills they need to mature into productive and successful adults. THE SNOUT SERIES does more than provide our children with cognitive reading skills; its stories provide them with social skills and valuable life lessons about good citizenship, loyalty, compassion, collaboration, diversity, and that actions and decisions—positive or negative—have powerful consequences.

When I read the four-volume manuscript of THE SNOUT SERIES, I fell in love with it. Your child will too!

Diane A. Sears

From the Author

It gives me great pleasure to present to you, my Global Family, four volumes of a modern fairytale series, sixteen fanciful stories, which dare to take you behind the scenes of some our favorite fairy tales, folk tales, nursery rhymes, fables, and other classic stories in The Adventures of Snout the Brown-Snout Pig. It is my goal and hope that each story entertains, educates, and inspires you. It is a joy to hear and to share the unique and caring voice of the musive fourth pig of the famous Three Little Pigs, Snout. In addition to the modern fairytale series, this special collectors’ and educators’ edition includes a Unit Lesson Plan on positive character traits, such as bravery, confidence, creativity, forgiveness, honesty, and more, that are ideal for children of all ages. The lessons are aligned with The Draft K-12 Common Core State Standards Initiative for Reading, Writing, Speaking and Listening, Language, and Media and Technology (grades K-12).

I would like to thank all of those persons (and you know who you are) who have supported me, even before The Evans Poetry Collection was born. I thank my Mother to whom this book is dedicated for allowing me to be my unique self and for encouraging me to write and, later, sing. She never wanted to hear me singing in the house while growing up, but that changed. It was my Mother who boldly and coldly told me not to worry about what others thought about my poetry because it was not about me. Likewise, I thank my aunt, Dale Ward, for being like a second mother to me who also supported me from the beginning and who told me, before she passed away, that I had the gift. I didn’t ask any questions about the gift; I just received it. To this day, I am glad to know that I have the gift and that the gift is not about me.

I would like to thank my loving sisters, Patricia and Rita; my brilliant nephews, Joshua and BJ; and my tall niece, Miracle. Thank you, Dee, my high school sweetheart who supports me to this day. I would like to thank the Evans, Ward, Anderson, Dunlap, Ford, Davis, Kitt, Kimbrough, James, Barber, Burwell, Singletary, and Turk families. Thank you to the teachers and professors from Joyner Child Parent Center and John M. Smyth Elementary School (Chicago) to Argosy University (Chicago). I would like to extend a special thank you to those muses who have befriended and inspired me over the years: my Pastor, Rev. Dr. Floyd D. James, Sr. and Greater Rock M. B. Church (Chicago, IL); Larry, Bobby, Terrance, Donaldo, James, Meechie, and Latricia. Thank you to every doctor, nurse, technician, and social worker who has ever taken care of me and who has ever been there for me. To the Friends of The Evans Poetry Collection (TEPC) Worldwide, thank you for your continued support. Remember, remain inspired.

John D. Evans

To the children

In loving memory of

Patricia Evans

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Volume I

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Fourth Pig

Snout Goes to Bear Land

Snout Goes to the Farm

Snout Goes on a Cruise

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Fourth Pig:

The Tale of Snout

and the Fancy Coats

Introduction

I have learned how to make myself disappear. I stand in one spot and look away from everyone else or when they approach me, I look down. I dare not speak unless someone speaks to me, so I hardly ever speak. I spend a lot of my time thinking and dreaming. I probably spend too much time thinking and not enough time speaking up for myself. I will have to start letting these pig-headed sisters of mine know how I feel.

Check the Slop

It all started on that late afternoon when Momma and Daddy went out to look for ripe earthworms, crunchy roots, and juicy bulbs for dinner. A 12-year-old potbelly, I had to sit on a witness stand before a courtroom full of pigs, horses, dogs, reporters, cats, birds sheep, and nosey human beings—and I identified Wiley the Wolf as the monster that ate my mommy and daddy. It was the talk of Pig Town where I am from and where I am now. Choppie, my stocky, oldest sister, took the stand, but she didn’t see what I saw. She was 27 years old at the time and she was at work. My sisters, Squeeley and Squeaky, the twins, were 20 at the time. They took the stand, but they were at the mall with their friends. While snacking on a pile of old grass and autumn leaves, I saw the whole thing.

♦

Snout! Choppie interrupts me from my day dream, a real nightmare, with a shout from her favorite plot of grassy land.

Yes? I answer swiftly.

Are you done yet?

Have you found my hoop earring? Squeeley jumps in.

Have him check the slop again, Squeaky giggles.

Why don’t you check the slop again? Squeeley adds.

I’ve already checked the slop!

Choppie! Snout’s in here giving us attitude! Squeaky concocts.

Snout!

No, I’m not!

Snout, do what they tell you!

But Choppie…

What did I tell you?

Now, let’s start over. Squeeley directs me with her one hoop dangling from her wrinkled, right ear.

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Snout, are you done yet? Are you done yet? That’s all I hear. Snout, do this! Snout, do that! Snout, carry this! Snout, carry that! I wish I was old enough to get a job, earn my own money, and get away from here. It’s just not fair. They get to walk around here like domestic porkers when everyone knows they’re just three wild old boars.

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Snout! Choppie commands.

Yes! I respond without thinking.

Are you yelling… ? Come here!

As I turn around, a brick hurls just over my head. When stocky Choppie can’t make it to me fast enough, she tosses the first thing that she can wrap her fungus toes around.

I asked you to build a wooden box for momma’s necklace and earrings weeks ago. Where is it? Choppie looks up to me and points to the ground. I hate it when my sisters do that. They make me walk on all fours.

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One day, I won’t have to do what Choppie, Squeeley, Squeaky, or anyone says. I won’t have to put up with them calling me names. I’m not swine. I don’t have any parasites. I can’t help the way my toe was formed. It happened before I was born. No one would even know about my toe if my sisters didn’t tell everyone.

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I want the box by tomorrow, Snout! I’m not playing! Choppie smacks the tip of my brown snout, turns away, and returns to her favorite patch of grass, So, get busy!

Where is my earring, Snout? Squeeley calls with Squeaky looking on snickering.

Ouch!

I think he’s found it. The twins laugh.

The Ankh Necklace and Green-speckled Navajo Bear Earrings

The pain that I feel from this old, bacteria-infected earring in my foot is nothing compared to the pain of me losing momma and daddy. I don’t know how momma’s silver necklace with the sparkling Ankh and green-speckled Navajo bear earrings managed to survive the fury of the ferocious carnivore, but they did. Choppie says they are family heirlooms now and that we need to treasure them, but Squeeley and Squeaky don’t agree. Squeeley and Squeaky want to sell the necklace and wear the earrings. I believe Squeeley and Squeaky should get part-time jobs since they are old enough to work, but I can still hear them laughing at the notion. It wasn’t always this way though.

♦

While snacking on a pile of old grass and autumn leaves, I saw momma and daddy strolling at a distance. Their early evening stroll that day seemed to be extra special. The setting sun was like a gold magnet calling them. It was unlike the other times that they went away to pick up dinner. This time was different. It seemed more like a date. Momma, wearing her treasured necklace and earrings, and daddy, looking as proud as my hero, Babe, it’s like it just happened yesterday.

Out of nowhere, Wiley the cunning and contemptuous wolf jumped in front of my parents, who were frozen statues of pigs rubbing ears, and stared down on them with daggers for teeth and a pair of hate red fiery eyes. He dared them to move while licking his drool hanging lips and inching closer. Momma and daddy, too old to run, were no competition for Wiley. I fell onto my stomach and ran as fast as I could to get help.

Squeeley! Squeaky!

I raced over to Pig Land and couldn’t find the twins anywhere. I searched all over and they weren’t even in Tubers, their favorite clothing store. I raced over to the call center where Choppie works and the giraffe behind the desk told me that Choppie had already left for the day. Exhausted and out of breath, by the time my sisters and I returned to the scene of the crime, momma and daddy were gone. Choppie started using Pig Latin and Squeeley and Squeaky started wailing. I wept silently. This was all before they changed.

♦

Look at him! Squeeley disapproves.

"He is ugly," Squeaky agrees.

Swine, swine, swine… Look at the swine… The twins sing.

Look at him! Old Spot! Squeeley teases.

Guinea pig! Guinea pig! Squeaky chimes in.

Mule foot! Squeeley points and laughs with her fake hoops dangling.

Ah mule foot! Squeaky bursts in laughter and rolls over into the small lake of mud.

We all live in the wild and my three sisters feel like they are exotic porkers. I know that I can crush them with one hand, but violence is not the answer.

Come on brown snout! Squeaky strikes my huge, yet tender head with a stick.

Come on you big hog! What are you gonna’ do? Squeeley asks while bumping her

feces crusted tusk into me.

It’s not always easy to remain non-violent, but I make every effort to try.

I don’t want to fight…

I didn’t ask if you wanted to fight, says Squeeley as she begins to grow larger and tower over me in a darker pink.

Yeah, no one is asking… Squeaky grows larger and looks down on me with the same.

I don’t know they do it, but they have their way. All at once, my sisters are on top of me, stabbing me with their tusks and biting me, stomping and kicking me. I’m squealing bloody murder and Choppie… Choppie thinks we’re playing.

Snout, stop making all of that noise!

A Plan is Hatched

All sore and bloody, I must search for lumber in the woods so that I can make a box for momma’s necklace and earrings. I know what’s going to happen. I’m going to make this box and they’re going to take it for themselves like they did the last two that I made. Choppie, conveniently, forget s to mention the previous boxes that I built and that my sisters used them for anything from hog head trinkets and midnight crickets to anything that they want to keep from me. I will never forget that day momma and daddy died.

♦

Where’s momma! Choppie cried as I explained to her what I saw while snacking.

Where are momma and daddy? Squeeley cried as she looked in her purse for tissue.

Momma! Daddy! Squeaky wailed as she ran in circles around a tree.

Momma and daddy were nowhere around. Choppie, Squeeley, Squeaky, and I were crying a trough of tears. I walked over to the exact spot where momma and daddy were attacked and rested there for awhile. I noticed a shimmering light beaming out of the tall blades of grass. Innately curious, I slid closer and then closer. There they lay, alone and untouched, momma’s necklace and earrings. This is when the fighting began.

♦

They’re mine!

No, they’re mine!

No, she would want me to have them!

My sisters want momma’s necklace and earrings, but they want them for different reasons. Choppie feels that the necklace and earrings are her inheritance. She believes that momma would want to pass her treasure on to the eldest child and that child is Choppie. Choppie may not be elderly, but at 30 years, she is old. Squeeley wants to wear the earrings and sell the Ankh necklace. Squeaky wants to do whatever Squeeley wants to do. All of it is against what I want to do.

Squeaky! Squeeley squeals, Squeaky…

Coming! Squeaky runs and crashes into Squeeley’s portly side.

I have a plan, Squeeley begins while marching around Squeaky, causing her to turn in circles to keep up, . . . a plan that will make everyone happy.

Yeah? What is it?

Wouldn’t it be nice to eat egg shells and snails? And feast on fresh fruit peels, cores, and skins from the finest garbage, Squeeley tempts.

Mmm… Yeah… Squeaky salivates.

Wouldn’t you like a heaping spoon of potato carrion soup with extra carrion?

Would I?

We can have it—tonight.

What’s the plan, Squeeley?

All we have to do is… Squeeley begins to oink in Squeaky’s ear. Take… Sell…

Is that legal? Squeaky blurts.

Smack!

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Squeaky’s dazed face was evident that she was talking too loudly. It didn’t matter to Squeeley whether or not her plot was legal. That open-toe blow to the face was a warning for Squeaky to do exactly as advised—and to keep her big, bug-hole shut.

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Is what legal? I wonder aloud as I overhear Squeaky’s mistreatment.

Oh… If it isn’t Old Spot! Squeeley revs up.

What you got there? Squeaky grabbed a plank of oak wood from my back.

I’m about to build a box for momma’s necklace and earrings.

Another box… Squeeley schemes.

You may not have to because… Squeaky jumps in.

Squeeley darted Squeaky with her eyes and Squeaky abruptly shut her mug.

Because what… I ask as I manage to pull the plank from Squeaky’s hand.

Don’t worry about it… Squeeley responds, rolling her eyes.

I heard the plan though… and they won’t get away with it. I’ll fill you in later—I have to get this box finished by tomorrow. I don’t want that old pig on my back.

Wiley’s Back

Oh no! Squeeley cries to Squeaky, ". . . did you hear about it? It’s on the cover of The Pig Town Sometimes Daily News and everyone’s talking about it!"

No, what?

Wiley the Wolf has escaped from Pig Town Correctional last night.

The whole town is in frenzy. The birds are going south much sooner. The horses, cows, dogs, and midnight creepers all have packed their bags and have move on to safer, greener pastures.

Oh no! What are we going to do? Squeeley and Squeaky wonder aloud in unison.

"We’re not going to worry. I know that much. Momma wouldn’t want us to worry and she wouldn’t want us to run and hide either. She would want us to do something though…" Choppie parades soberly, pondering.

Yeah, Squeeley asks.

To do what though? Squeaky echoes.

Although I am forced to stand off in a distance, I can hear everything that is going on.

I don’t know… We must do something different, Choppie ponders, Something brand new. Choppie paces on her strong hind legs with her hands on her wide, aged hips. Something out of the ordinary, out of the box.

Yeah, yeah… Squeeley and Squeaky follow Choppie’s every move and hold onto every word until she shouts.

A house!

A house? Squeeley and Squeaky holler in laughter.

Squeeley and Squeaky roll on their potbellies with all of the eavesdroppers slithering by and swooping down laughing along.

Shut your pork lips! Choppie commands, "We have to build a house! I know it’s a radical move. To give up all of this. Choppie points to the puddle of mud and field of sun-baked green. To be cooped up… But we have to build a house! That’s the only thing that will keep that monster away. He can creep around a corner at any moment. Besides, winter is coming and you know I almost became pork chops last winter."

♦

She did. Choppie escaped from a human’s hands. The hatchet was on her neck and as it was being raised, Choppie broke and ran free. That’s how she got her name.

♦

Alright, we’ll build a house. Squeeley wins over.

A house… Squeaky imagines.

A plain, brick house… Choppie begins to describe.

Brick! Squeeley and Squeaky complain.

Yes, brick, Choppie insists.

Ugh… Why brick? Brick is too hard, Squeeley continues.

Yeah, Squeaky chimes, and it’s heavy.

As their pork lips flap, hold on… Choppie? Squeeley? Squeaky? Building a house? Choppie really means Snout will build a house.

Three Houses

Because my sisters cannot agree on whether or not to use brick for the house, Choppie must throw her 150 pounds of prime fat.

Alright, build your own houses, she directs, "Squeeley, you build your own house and Squeaky, you build your own house. I’ll build my own house. I have a bucket of slimy snails and small vertebrate tails. We will split the proceeds that we make from selling them at Pygmy Square. We will split the money three ways.

That’s how the next chapter began.

Snout! More straw! Squeeley demands while sipping root juice.

And bring sticks! Squeaky adds while toeing the pages of Hogsmolitan.

I want it higher. I want… Squeeley explains her vision made of straw.

Sticks, I exhale, dropping a pile of sticks in front of Squeeley.

Snout! Sticks! Squeaky yells, More sticks! She lowers the latest edition of her favorite magazine, revealing serious eyes.

I didn’t ask for sticks, you guinea pig! Squeaky asked for sticks! Now, pick them up and take them to her plot of grassy land… and hurry up! Squeeley complains.

Snout, I need more water in the mud… Choppie dances circles in the drying mud.

What are you doing Choppie? Squeaky wonders aloud.

I’m about to build Pig Town’s first brick house. This is going to be my cement—once it hardens between the bricks.

That will never work, doubts Squeaky.

What’s your plan? Choppie pauses.

Sticks!

Sticks… Choppie laughs to herself and continues her dance. It seems like I’ve heard this before…

If you fasten the sticks in a certain way, it should work. Besides, everyone knows that wolves can’t get into houses made with sticks, Squeaky maintains.

Alright… But you are welcome to work with me on the brick house and we can live in it together… Choppie offers.

Squeaky… Squeeley interrupts, What’s going on?

Oh nothing. I was just telling Choppie about the house that I’m going to build, Squeaky explains.

Choppie pauses dancing. And what about you? She asks Squeeley.

I’m using straw, Squeeley responds proudly.

Straw hugh… Choppie ponders, Straw… Choppie resumes dancing and laughing to herself.

It’s going to be so cool… I’m going to use the red and white spirals and orange and blue spirals. I’ll have a few all white and a few all black and a back-load of all of the in-between-colored straws, Squeeley struts away with excitement.

While my sisters are planning and delegating, I am hard at work. This is so against what I want to do. Just because I am the youngest and I have this brown snout, that does not mean that I should be forced to carry the biggest load. It doesn’t mean that I was meant to stay on all fours. If momma and daddy were here, my sisters wouldn’t be treating me or behaving in this way.

They’re mine. Squeaky is protesting.

No, Squeeley manages.

Squeeley and Squeaky are fighting over the half of an earthworm and grasshopper dangling from Squeeley’s mouth.

No, they’re mine! Squeaky reaches into Squeeley’s mud-spotted lips for her share of the squirming vittles.

No, I’m the eldest! Choppie jumps in. Give it here. Choppie holds out her right hand and Squeeley regurgitates. Choppie always gets her way.

This scene replays as I stick the sticks higher and straw the straws wider and make dashes to the old, oak tree where I am hiding momma’s box. I can’t help but think of the last time I saw momma and daddy.

♦

They didn’t make it. They couldn’t get away in time, I explained to the judge, an elephant as large as his bench in a black robe and wearing second-dimensional eye-wear, and to the sweaty, crowded courtroom full of pigs, horses, dogs, reporters, cats, birds sheep, and nosey human beings. And now my parents are gone. He did it. I stood up and pointed directly to Wiley the wolf who was sitting there, grinning, and trying to look like a professional human in the defendant’s seat.

I didn’t care if the rest of Wiley’s pack were in their dens making plans to come after my sisters and me with more of their hooting and howling, clawing and growling in the middle of the night like they had so many times before or if they were planning to eat us. I didn’t worry about any of that. I didn’t let Wiley’s evil, beady eyes scare me one bit.

That’s him, your Honor. That’s him. Boldly, I stood. He ate my momma and daddy.

Wiley’s eyes pierced me through the awkwardly-small spectacles he wore at the tip of his long nose, trying to look intelligent. The effort was unsuccessful. It did not work. I saw right through his black-painted sheepskin suit and crooked smile—crossing his legs, trying to act human. He was nothing short of a wild beast to me and I wasn’t going to let him get away with the murder of my only inspiration, my parents—no way.

Fancy Coats

Snout! Choppie hollers from her favorite spot.

Yes! I respond quickly, running to her.

Where’s the box! Bring it here!

I don’t have it… I try to explain.

"What do you mean: I don’t have it?" She mocks.

I mean, I’m going to…

I cannot answer before I notice two large portly shadows hovering over me. Squeeley and Squeaky are ready to see the green light from Choppie. Choppie, smiling, turns her back and walks away. The twins have the green light and they are letting me have it.

Pow!

Take this, says Squeeley, throwing her thickness, smacking me in the face, and staining it with mud.

Splat!

Yeah and this… Squeaky joins in with two throws of mud.

Swine, swine, swine… They tease.

Stop calling me that! I’m fed up.

You can’t keep calling me names like that!

I am Art, I explain, standing up, short for Artiodactyla.

Squeeley and Squeaky grow larger and larger and they turn redder and redder until everyone in town could see them.

Squeeley and Squeaky! Stop that! Choppie commands.

They stop flexing and start dunking my face in the dinner for the night, feces a la mode.

"Snout, is that what I think it is on your face? Choppie asks, So, you haven’t finished building the box, but you have time to have that brown snout of yours all in the food? Go and get one of those sticks and bring it here," Choppie directs.

But Choppie, Squeaky needs every stick that she can get on that house, I attempt and it was the truth. Squeaky’s house is leaning.

As I stand here and bear the wrath of Choppie, I can think only of how special I will make momma’s box.

And you better, manages Choppie, putting a mark across my rump, You better… She strikes again. Have the box, she says, breathing heavily and criss-crossing, tomorrow. As Choppie whacks away, she sweats off pounds, loses her breath, and begins to wheeze.