Sleeping on the Pier?
Squealing like a pig, Sean voiced his discontent with the sleeping arrangements.
“I’m not sleeping on half of some rotten pier all night,” he squealed. “Who knows when the whole thing will collapse and send me plunging into that freezing cold water. Not to mention the smelliness of the water. Have you smelled it lately? It makes me gag just thinking about its aroma. And all those motorboats speeding back and forth at all hours of the night? I’ll never get any sleep at all out here.”
But Farmer Shelly, Sean’s owner, didn’t seem to care. She just shaved a piece of bacon off of Sean’s back, fried it up, and left him tied up on the pier. If Sean’s thoughts were subtitled like a foreign movie, it would have said something like “Ow, my back” or “I really hate this pier.”
But the great pig rebellion was at least three weeks off. For now, he would have to be satisfied merely with squealing. The rebel pig patrols were out, circling the farm and the river bank all night long, and that gave him a small teaspoonful of solace. In fact, that was all that kept Sean from eating Farmer Shelly’s ankles right then and there. Well, that and the fact that Shelly had already gone inside and gone to bed.
Pigs aren’t the brightest animals in the world. A lot of stuff tends to happen all around them while they’re formulating plans of action and plotting their revenge.
But one day… Yes. One day this would all be his.