Percival the Pig, plump and pink with a glint of mischief in his eye, tiptoes around the clearing, setting the final touches on his trap. The distant rustle of leaves signals the approach of Waldo the Wolf, hungry and unsuspecting. With a sudden snap, the trap springs shut, and Waldo finds himself dangling upside down, paws flailing in surprise. "What’s the meaning of this, pig?" "Tonight, dear wolf, I’m the hunter, and you’re the feast."

Percival hauls Waldo into the kitchen, humming a jaunty tune as he sharpens his razor. He carefully shaves the wolf’s fur, the bristles falling away to reveal pale skin beneath. Waldo trembles, eyes wide as Percival begins to rub him with fragrant herbs and a generous dusting of flour. "This isn’t fair, Percival. Wolves eat pigs, not the other way around!" "Times are changing, Waldo. Tonight, you’ll be the star of my table."

Percival lifts Waldo with surprising strength, lowering him gently into the pan. The wolf sizzles as the golden crust forms, and Percival flips him with practiced grace. Outside, birds chirp obliviously as the aroma of cooking meat wafts through the open window. "Maybe we can make a deal—" "Hush now, it’s almost time to eat," Percival replies, licking his lips.

Percival lays his meal at the center of the table, his eyes shining with pride and hunger. He carves a tender piece, savoring the crispy edges and juicy meat, and chews thoughtfully. Each bite is a victory, a reversal of roles, and a celebration of cunning. "Delicious," Percival murmurs, reclining in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

Percival wipes his mouth and leans back, content and triumphant. He gazes at the night sky through the open window, the stars twinkling like a thousand congratulatory winks. The once-hunted pig has become the clever chef, his legend destined to grow among woodland creatures. "Perhaps next time, I’ll try fox à la mode," he chuckles to himself, already dreaming up new culinary adventures.