This picture is of the protagonist, feeling super chuffed with himself, before the shit really went down … Picture created by Adobe Firefly.
These last few weeks, I’ve been really enjoying working through Neil Gaiman’s Masterclass course on creative writing. One of the lessons, about inspiration, gave a few prompts that led me to this piece. The prompt was to try to see a classic fable from a new angle, and there was also a suggestion to imagine a classic character from a fable being put on trial, and those two conglomerated in my brain and led to this. I hope you enjoy reading it even half as much as I did creating it.
“Can you state your name for the benefit of the jury, Sir?”
Then they all look at me and well, of all of the things that I’d considered, I hadn’t thunk of this one at all. I mean, I’m a pig, and a little one at that, and one of the three, but I really hadn’t considered that they might need to call me anything else. “Piggy Straw, Sir”
The whole place cracks up. I try my best to hide my head in my trotters, but there’s no use. Got their phones out they have, all snapping me they are, I knows it. Looks like the internet is of no good use for me for the foreseeable. “Might sound strange Sir, but we doesn’t have names you see. No use for them where I come from. Meant for the farm and that’s that. I blame my big brother, Piggy Bricks …” They starts howling and snapping and snaffling again. “It was all his idea. He wanted to build houses, I was happy as I was, plenty of muck on a wet day and more than enough rotten apples to snack on. Fine I was until he gets the idea to hide from the big bad bastard. Drew attention to ourselves we did!” Folks all about then start ruffling and mumbling.
“ORDER IN THE COURT” barks the Judge, his snout whiskers shimmying about as he bangs his gavel. “No more interruptions or I will be doing this in closed chambers! Please commence Mr Straw.” There was a titter this time, but not much else.
“Well Sir,” I starts again. “Well Sir, I did my best with what I had. There I was, head full of my daft big brothers ideas when I sees a fella at the side of the road with a barrow of straw, and so I goes over to him I does and I asks, ‘would you be so decent as to sell me some o’ that fine lookin’ straw so as I can build me an house?’ ‘Build ye an house?’ He posits and ‘Yes’ I says. ‘Big Bad Bastard wolf is coming and I needs me a shelter!’ Well Sir, he laughs at me an all, then I pulls out me pouch and shows him me hard earned, and he soon shuts up his chunter and gets all polite like. ‘Indeed’ he says and gives me a good price for the whole barrow, and with that I sets to building me house.
The bad fella, the one who looks down his long nose at me, he starts up now. “Who told you how to build this …” He pauses and looks at his papers. “ … house?” A murmuring goes about the room, only all the judge needs to do this time is hold up the gavel and silence descends all about.
“Well, no one.” I says. ‘I mean, I’ve seen ‘em all about the place. Seen Farmer go in an out of his a barrowfull of times and that was enough of an idea for me. Got smart trotters I have!” The snuckle of laughter all about is stifled, but I feel it, rest assured I do.
“Hmmm” he says, down his long snout again, hooves clopping about as he walks over to the jury. “… continue Mr …” he looks at his papers again “… Straw …”
“Thank you Sir.” I says. “So I sets about building me gaff, took a while, all day it did, but I’m an hard working piggy and I then gets to sit back in the evening, looking it all over. Right proud I was. An once I’d had a rest up and a couple of apples in celebration of me labour, well, I dare says it was time to rest my trotters it was. So I gets in me new gaff, gets meself comfy and gets me head down, only to be rudely awoken by him! That bastard over there!!!” I can’t help meself but point as strong as I can as that wolf bastard smirks over at me. This time there’s a perfectly justifiable kerfuffle in the court and the judge allows it by the weight of his righteousness he does.
“Let the record show, the witness, Mr …” looks at his papers again he does, the clip-clopping bastard, “ … Straw, is pointing at my defendant, Tristan Q De Louve.” More fuss, followed by a swift bang of the gavel. “And how did he awaken you?”
“I was due to get to that I was” I says. “He says, and I quote sirs and gennelmisses, he says …” I makes me voice all gruff, for effect. “LITTLE PIG, LITTLE PIG, LET ME IN.” and I says, in return, for want of summat better to say, as I was quite shocked I was and having no idea of anything to happen other than a good nights rest, well I says the first thing that comes to mind, it was all that I had, you see, it -“
“Please get to the point Mr Straw!” Shouts Clipclop.
“Right … I says … NOT BY THE HAIR OF MY CHINNY CHIN CHIN!” And my word did the place erupt. That cacophony of mirth will haunt me to the slaughterhouse I can tell yer.
“FINAL CALL FOR ORDER!!!!” the judge shouts and bangs his gavel so loud I jump a bit, as I’m at the point of highest trauma.
“Appreciate that, Sir,” I says to him.
“And what was spoken in reply” asks Clippyclop.
“He says, and again, I quote Sir. He says, ‘well, I’ll huff, and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in! And he does, the bastard goes and does!!!”
I don’t remember much after that. I didn’t half whinge and I was escorted out by a kindly lady, who was kind even though she was covered in spikes, made me a cup of tea she did and I was glad of that, glad to have that part of the second worst day of my life over and done with, that I was!