Percy, the eldest pig, polishes a mug with a sly grin, his curly tail twitching whenever he glances at the ticking wall clock. Petunia, the clever middle pig, adjusts her bow tie and lines up apple cider jugs with precision. Pip, the youngest, sports a mischievous glint as he sneaks an extra cinnamon stick into the punch. The farmhouse pulses with anticipation, interrupted only by a tentative knock at the door. Wolfgang, the wolf, stands outside, his fur slicked and manners polished but hunger thinly veiled behind a charming smile. "Welcome, Wolfgang! Come in, come in—don’t let the warmth escape!" "Well, you pigs sure know how to throw a party! Smells like a dream in here." "Wait till you taste the cider. It’s our secret recipe—just the thing to loosen your tail, eh?" "Careful, though. Goes down easy, comes back up funny!"

Wolfgang lounges at the table, his eyes growing glassy, as Percy leans in with a conspiratorial wink. Petunia orchestrates a toast, while Pip darts behind, topping off Wolfgang’s cider every time he looks away. "To new friends, old houses, and parties that last till sunrise!" "Hear, hear! You pigs sure know how to pour. My head feels light as a feather." "That’s just the cider working its magic. You look like you could use another." "Or two! Or three! Don’t worry, we’ll catch you if you fall."

Wolfgang props himself against the counter, blinking as the world spins. Percy produces a checkered blanket, draping it over Wolfgang’s shoulders. Petunia hums a lullaby, while Pip tiptoes behind, wielding barber’s scissors with theatrical flair. "You all are simply... delightful. Never met such thoughtful hosts. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" "Relax, friend. We’ll take care of you. Just close your eyes and let the cider do its work." "Think of it as... a spa treatment. You’ll be a new wolf by morning."

Wolfgang slumps deeper into sleep, oblivious as Percy lathers his chin, Petunia brandishes a rolling pin for effect, and Pip gleefully collects tufts of fur for “souvenirs.” "Careful with the sideburns! We want him crispy, not patchy." "Hush! He’s dreaming of sheep, no doubt. Just a bit off the ears now." "Get the pie crust ready, Pip. He’ll never suspect a thing."

Wolfgang stirs, blinking in confusion as Percy tucks a napkin under his chin. Petunia offers a spoonful of filling, and Pip pats his paw reassuringly. "Is this... some kind of heated blanket? Smells delicious in here. You pigs are full of surprises." "Just relax, Wolfgang. We’re giving you the full farmhouse experience." "You’ll feel right at home in no time."

Pip skips to the window, watching the moon rise, while Petunia pours the last of the cider. Percy sharpens a carving knife, his smile unwavering. "Who knew wolf pie would smell so sweet? Should we save a slice for the mailman?" "Only if he brings more apples. To clever pigs and cozy endings!" "To hospitality—ours is simply to die for."