This Little Piggy
“Mr. Piggy”, the cashier whispered, “it seems that your card has been declined.”
The pig frowned, his flesh colored hue quickly becoming flushed.
“There must be some mistake. I have some friends coming over today. We’re going to have Roast beef you see.”
“Well, you may have enough for jam and bread, but not roast beef.” The cashier snickered from his perch behind the counter.
The pig's snout dipped, he leaned in close, feeling the stares on his warming ears.
“Can you run it once again?" He looked around, motioning with his large, chubby hoofs.
“I was sent, you see. I’m the piggy who went to the market.”
Failing to hide his irritation with the matter, the cashier shrugged and was promptly back to work.
“Next please. Oh hello Mr. Wolf, did you see the sale on bacon in the back?"
A small squeal escaped before the pig could regain what little composure he managed in these public settings. Recovering, he turned slowly to find the source of the low, measured panting blowing against his neck. The wolf flashed a toothy smile that did little to alleviate Mr. Piggy's now fleeting color.
As quick as an oink, the pig’s life flashed before him. He saw himself at home with the others. A slacker who refused to find work and contributed nothing, a slob, happy in his stye, stuffing his face with nothing but roast beef. filling out the foot was the vegetarian pig who passed the time belittling his roommates, and little pinky pig, a coward who couldn't leave the house without whining and weeing all the way home.
So that left him, the responsible one. He paid the bills,did the laundry, and went to the market in the face of adversity to bring home the baco---uh, roast beef. And now what would he have to show for it? The stench of wolf breath filling his nostrils. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Leaving the market, the pig walked slowly, a full swing of confidence in his gait. In his arms was a tender filet Mignon; a joyful deviation from the usual roast beef. But circumstance called for it, after all, it wasn't everyday that one could solve his problems and make a few bucks in the process, a few bucks that had come to him because of his quick thinking and business acumen.
He glanced at his watch, it won’t be long now. He would soon have the house to himself, no more late night parties, no more deadbeats on the couch, and no more being called porker just because he carried a few extra pounds.
The wolf? Oh dear, how tragic, if only I could have been there to do something!
He would whip up some tears, put on a good show for the neighbors and then begin living the dream. His chest swelled, and the normally reserved pig even managed to whistle an old tune as he chugged along.
I think I’ll make a billiard room where old pinky used to sleep
He walked by the ladies at the coffee shop, tipping his hat as he reeled in his grin with great effort, aware that every great plan took even greater discipline.