After learning about the picks and shovels industry of the american gold rush era, the three brothers set out to make spoons as they needed money for their housing project. Having not made a single spoon in their lives, they set out to do a thorough research first. They found themselves a computer in the public library that they then carried to a chain cafeteria as latter had free internet and the library one wasn’t very good. Also people in libraries were always so uptight. In contrast, nobody cared about the brothers, their computer, and the bulbous monitor in cafeteria because everyone was paid a minimum wage (the fools) and treated as dirt and that was quite alright. Also, the seating was decent.

The brothers learned that the spoon is a utensil and that it is consisting of, and that already sounded like too much research so, from there on, they just looked at the pictures of spoons, instead. “Who would have thought that there are so many different kinds of spoons out there,” the youngest brother exclaimed excitedly with three exclamation points at the end of his exclamation. “What are you so excited about, idiot?” annoyed, for the cafeteria had weirdly enough run out of (free) sugar, the middle brother asked. “Come, come now,” the eldest intervened patiently and rather loudly, “Nowadays PC for ‘idiot’ is ‘stupid’.” He made sure he waved in all the air quotes appropriately and decided that example would help. “As in – what are you so excited about, stupid?” He elocuted the question with relish. “Yes, stupid, what are you so excited about?” the middle brother agreed, caring much less about elocution than emphasis of the stupid, till you could almost taste it. “About the spoons, stupid,” the youngest replied. And this then went back and forth for a while because, frankly, saying “stupid” is fun. Also, while nobody should be called thick, the brother’s weren’t exactly thin either. The shouting came to an end when the manager, who was also being paid minimum wage, noticed the computer and decided that he wants to check his email. The brothers were kicked out “for miscellanea reasons” as the manager put it, making sure it sounded very received and pronounced.

The youngest brother set out to make spoons out of papier-mâché, pronouncing it paper-match. The middle one first went for wood but quickly gave up as the material was too fickle, and bought a few tons of plastic to melt them in spoony shapes, instead. The eldest and wisest of the three, knowing very well (for he was very wise) that neither paper not wood or even plastic would hold serious huffing and puffing, announced that he will be making his spoons out of metal, but in secrecy made them out of bricks.

When, three weeks later, the investors arrived for the grand opening of the spoon shop, there was champagne and cheese and everything that belonged in such events. There were lots of oohing and aahing about the spoons on display and investors were very impressed. They all signed up for the goods and the batches of spoons went out another three weeks later.

First investor had ordered the elegant, bright white spoons made of paper. They melted in his soup and he sued the youngest for attempted poisoning.

The second investor had ordered the Daliesque spoons from the middle son. She quickly found that the utensil could not maintain even the smallest amount of soup and demanded her money back.

The third investor, an elderly gentleman, had ordered the sturdy, brick spoons from the eldest and wisest of sons. They were good, indeed, minus the pores and the weight, and while trying to sip soup, he twisted his wrist and the spoon, falling heavily, broke the elegant porcelain plate into million pieces. The gentleman wouldn’t listen to eldest’s highly rational suggestion that he should have bought the brick plates as well, and instead ordered his servants to use catapults, if necessary, to toss spoons back at the enterpreneur.

All three pygmy pigs, if you are wondering, now work in a cafe, earning minimum wage, and casually calling everyone “stupid”.