Frank Goes to Investigate the Smell

You be the Cheshire cat?s guide on his journey and decide his fate.

By Laura Lee Bloor

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The smell was too powerful to resist. Although Frank had no idea where it was coming from, he let his nose guide him. At this point, he realized he might have more in common with birds than he previously believed, considering Tucan Sam always followed his nose to Fruit Loops. Frank veered wildly off the path. He walked through thorn bushes and even (gasp!) waded through streams, but he didn’t notice. All Frank could concentrate on was the mouth-watering scent.

Finally, Frank arrived at a little straw cottage. He was so focused on the smell that he didn’t even knock on the door. Upon entering, he scared the three little pigs living inside half to death. When they saw the intruder, they jumped back and squealed, racing to huddle together. However, the little pigs were a clumsy bunch. Instead of huddling together, they were so panicked, they bumped into one another, bouncing off and running in circles, only to repeat the collision. After about the third cycle of bumper pigs, Frank came to his senses and apologized for his intrusion.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! I didn’t even know what I was doing! It’s just that something in here smells so amazing! I think it put me under a spell!” Frank said, shaking his head to reorient himself with his new surroundings.

“If we only had a dime for every time we heard that story,” grumbled the oldest pig, Gerald.

“Yeah, he’s got to be the third stranger we’ve had this week,” squeaked Harold the middle-in-age pig.

“There’s a stranger in the house?!” shrieked the youngest pig, Darrell, who was still running in circles.

Gerald went over to Darrell and stuck his hoof out so that Darrell tripped.
“Hey! What was that for?!” Darrell cried.

“To stop you from chasing your tail all day and to show you that the stranger is right there,” Gerald said, scowling and pointing to Frank.

“Oh,” said Darrell, rubbing his head.

“Gosh, I really am sorry for barging in on you all like this,” Frank said, “I really didn’t mean to scare you. It was rude of me not to knock, but honestly, I didn’t even know where I was until I heard you squealing. May I ask what it is that you’re cooking?”

“It’s just your traditional grasshopper-mealworm-lamb-fly-hamburger stew,” Gerald said. “I just don’t get it though, you’re the third person or group this week to come storming into our house. It’s not like there’s a secret ingredient in here or something. That reminds me that we really need to get better locks on this place. Next thing you know we’ll be attracting wolves or worse!”

“So pigs eat lamb? And hamburger? Interesting … ” Frank said.

“Well it brought you in here, didn’t it?” Harold snorted.

“True. Is it about ready? Would it be all right if I have some since I traveled so far to come here? I promise I won’t be long. I was actually on my way to visit a friend before the aroma brought me here,” Frank said.

“Well, I guess that would be all right. It’s ready about now anyway,” Gerald said.

“Why is there a cat here?” Darrell asked.

“Shhh!” Gerald and Harold said together.

Harold helped Gerald scoop the stew into bowls while Frank helped Darrell set the table. Before they all sat down to eat, the three little pigs did their customary jig that they performed before every meal to give thanks for the food.

Frank was so excited for the first bite of stew that his hand shook as he raised the spoon to his mouth. The first bite proved to be the most exquisite slurp of soup he had ever taken. He tried to eat slowly to savor every bite, but he slurped the stew down before the little pigs had finished half of theirs.

“And they call us pigs,” Gerald commented upon noticing Frank’s frantic finish.

Frank blushed. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that it’s really good. My compliments to you all.” Yet as Frank finished the sentence, he noticed himself feeling sleepy. It was probably because he ate so fast, he thought. But it was so good that Frank needed another bowl.

“May I have some more?” Frank asked.

“Sure, help yourself,” Gerald said.

Frank got up and went over to the tiny stove where he scooped more steaming stew into his bowl. He took another deep whiff of the soup and became light-headed. It was definitely the best meal he had ever had in his entire life. After the second spoonful, Frank felt his eyelids slide down. He opened them wide and continued to eat, but no sooner had he opened them than they closed again. He was so tired all of a sudden. The soup was so good and warm. He was so full and … sleepy. So sleepy. Had the three little pigs poisoned his soup?

Click here if you think the three little pigs poisoned Frank’s stew.
Click here if you think Frank is just tired.
Click here to go back to the beginning.

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