Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to reality is to be blamed on the results of the last elections. Readers prone to home loan anxiety, parental pressure, or dreams of affordable housing are advised to proceed with caution – and possibly therapy.
Once upon a time, in a world
where financial security was an elaborate myth and the cost of living multiplied
faster than mice on espresso, there lived three little pigs. These were not
your typical pigs who rolled in the mud carefree. Instead, these pigs were
modern, hardworking citizens desperately trying to find affordable housing in
an economy where even a cardboard box in a decent neighbourhood cost more than
their annual salaries combined.
The first pig, let’s call him Moosa,
was what financial experts refer to as "optimistic but deeply
misinformed." He had spent the bulk of his savings on avocado toast and
online subscription services he had forgotten to cancel. When the time came to
purchase property, he was left with very few options: a straw house, or
moving back in with his parents. He chose the former because he was a modern
pig who believed in independence, even if it meant sleeping in something that
could be legally classified as a decorative hay bale.
Moosa's house was…not great. It
had no insulation, no structural integrity, and when the wind blew too hard,
the walls swayed in a way that would make any engineer sob. But Moosa consoled
himself with the idea that he was now a "homeowner," even if his
"home" technically belonged to whatever cow wandered by and decided
to eat the living room wall. But he could walk to the metro, he liked the local
momo guy, and his landlord only increased the rent by 18% a year. It was fine.
He had a mattress on the floor and ambition in the sky.
The second pig, Danda, was
slightly more financially responsible. He had read an article online about the
importance of homeownership and decided that straw was too risky,
but bricks were too expensive. So, he settled for sticks, which was
the perfect compromise between affordability and imminent collapse.
Danda took out a loan with
a suspiciously high-interest rate, as advised by his friendly neighborhood bank
(which, coincidentally, was also in the business of foreclosing on stick
houses). His house had walls that could technically be classified as
"wooden panels held together by sheer willpower," and he had a door
that could be locked—but only if you didn’t breathe too hard near the hinges.
He called it "cozy." His financial advisor called it "a terrible
investment."
The third pig, Roda, believed
in long-term investments and financial stability, which is why he took out
a 30-year mortgage at an interest rate that made him feel slightly
nauseous. His brick house was sturdy, reliable, and would likely still be
standing long after the sun exploded—but at the cost of crippling debt, a diet
consisting mainly of instant noodles, and working three jobs just to afford the
property taxes.
Roda’s house
had functioning plumbing, a fireplace, and walls that didn’t sway when
someone sneezed, which put him far ahead of his brothers in terms of housing
security. However, every night he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering
if he'd made a huge mistake by purchasing something that required paying a
lifetime of interest to people who already had too much money.
Now, as these three pigs were
settling into their wildly different housing situations, along came The
Big Bad Wolf.
However, it is important to
note that "Big Bad" was more of a marketing
exaggeration than a factual description. His reputation had taken a
serious hit since the whole incident with Little Red Riding Hood. The wolf was now working as
an urban planner and housing consultant who had been trying to warn
the pigs about structural instability, unsustainable mortgages, and
reckless spending. Unfortunately, he had severe asthma (probably acquired since “mingling” with the
grandmother) which made it difficult to talk without wheezing dramatically,
leading to a series of misunderstandings that would later become the
foundation for an inaccurate fable.
When the wolf arrived at Moosa’s
straw house, he didn’t "huff and puff" in a fit of rage. He
simply coughed—because the air quality was terrible—and the
house immediately collapsed.
Moosa, who had just spent an
obscene amount of money on an artisanal oat milk subscription, barely had time
to react before his home was reclassified as "lawn debris". The
wolf, concerned, tried to offer advice on sustainable homebuilding, but Moosa
had already run off to Danda’s stick house, screaming about "economic
sabotage."
At Danda’s house, the wolf
attempted to knock politely, but due to a combination of faulty
construction and mild weather conditions, the entire structure collapsed before
he even made contact with the door. This was deeply embarrassing for Danda,
who had spent the past week bragging about how his house was "basically
indestructible."
As Danda and Moosa stood in the
wreckage of what used to be a house but now resembled an abandoned beaver
project, the wolf tried, once again, to explain the importance of
financial literacy, sustainable materials, and the dangers of predatory
lending. However, the pigs were too busy blaming him for "attacking their
economic freedom" to listen.
So, naturally, they ran off to Roda’s
brick house, convinced that the wolf was some kind of anarchist trying to
overthrow the housing market.
Upon reaching Roda’s house, the
pigs bolted inside and locked the door, ignoring the fact that Roda
looked mildly irritated to suddenly have two homeless siblings crashing on
his couch.
The wolf, now thoroughly
exhausted, stood outside and called out, “I am literally just trying to help
you.”
The pigs refused to believe
him. "Go away! We worked hard for this!"
"Did you, though?"
the wolf sighed. "Moosa, your house fell apart because you spent your
savings on avocado toast. Danda, your house collapsed because you took out a
terrible loan on a structure made of twigs. Roda, you’re drowning in a
mortgage so bad that in three years, you’ll be renting out your own kitchen to
afford the interest payments."
Roda stiffened.
"That’s…none of your business."
"Fine," said the
wolf, rubbing his temples. "But don’t say I didn’t warn you when the next
economic downturn happens."
And with that, he left.
Over time, Moosa took out
another ill-advised loan to build yet another cheaply
made house, which also collapsed in a mild breeze. Danda moved into Roda’s
guest room, bringing half of his stick-based wreckage with him. Roda,
now supporting two freeloading brothers, eventually had to refinance
his mortgage, leading to further financial distress.
As for the wolf? Well, he moved to a different neighborhood, where people actually listened to economic advice. And he lived happily ever after. Unlike the pigs.
