Muddy Puddles: A Re-Telling

Muddy Puddles

We meet our suidan protagonists as they remain encased in their place of shelter, locked in spiritually by the precipitation that proceeds outside the warmth of closed doors.  The day was a murky, half-remembered mess of grey skies and trickling water so far, the morning already rendered a blur by the overpowering force that pervades our lives: monotony.  Brave heroine Peppa of Pig feared the afternoon would be next to succumb to Nietzschean nihilism and despair.

"Oh, boo," she moaned, speaking English despite literally being a pig.  "It's raining.  I hate the rain."  

Peppa, so young and naive, was not old enough to recognise the true blessings of rain just yet.  Why should she?  She wasn't even aware of her odd linguistic direction in life.  Peppa Pig did not think of rain as others did, with the flourishing of crops that would later become food on the table at dinnertime.  The reasoning for her despair at today's meteorological outcome came not from altruism; quite the opposite.

"Because it's raining, we can't play our favourite game," she demonstrated, to a smaller pig besides her.  "Jumping in muddy puddles!"

George Pig was smaller in stature and in diversity of linguistics than his sister, and as such could not articulate much in response to her fraught remarks beyond a small disheartened wail.  Fittingly, George Pig was clad in a gentle blue that covered cartoonish anatomy, in comparison to his sister's reds; frequently he comprised the melancholy to Peppa's unruly puddle hedonism.   But as younger siblings often do, he too was given an influence in her, and he too was disappointed about the rain today.

Both of the Pig siblings then shared a sobering moment at the window-pane as rain continued to pass.  Hark, reader, as I comment on their blissful ignorance- it was this temporary setback of a watery climate that would later allow them to enjoy what they loved the most.  Is this not a metaphor for the motions of the grand mechanism that is life itself?  But I cannot say any more on this matter.  It would require a spoiler warning.  And I cannot spoil the plot of a children's animated television series for you.

In a non-carnivorous sense, the contributing flesh of Peppa and George stood nearby.  Mummy and Daddy Pig, known only by their affectionate monikers attributed by their offspring, often assumed role of sentinel over the impetuosity of the Pig household; a shared role denoted by their marital status.  Both were kind figures, non-threatening.  

Mummy Pig, unlike other female pigs in the children's entertainment industry, was maternal and sensible at heart.  However, a contradiction lay in the lacquer on her ever-smiling mouth and the extended feminine lashes on her animated eyes; had these been tested on animals?  Mummy Pig continued to neglect to say.  All of her peers still understood the message that this sent.  The children of the Pig family were not to be trifled with, if not to earn the worst rage of all: the nuclear fury of a mother scorned, the raw competition of the school cake sale, primal Darwinist instinct to protect one's offspring.  While Peppa and George Pig may have lacked common sense, the fierce protection of Mummy Pig had ensured their safety.  It had worked so far.

Daddy Pig was quite different from Mummy Pig in that he often fell victim to the misdemeanors of his children.  While largest physically, he was but a kind old soul, and incredibly nearsighted.  Resembling a small-town banker, his face was decorated not with unethical cosmetics but with the makings of a grand beard in unassuming wisps, and a pair of small, circular glasses perched on his snout that aided his unfortunate sight.  They made him look a bit like John Lennon, although Daddy Pig had never done drugs as part of his role as a good parent, and remained apart from Lennon in that respect.  He was rather more easily cowed than his wife, which was ironic, as he was a pig.

With the introduction of the other two characters in this vast orchestration of interlocking events finished, so had the rain.  The clouds had decided they had no more contribution to make to this parched land and moved onwards to another day, looking for more water to lift from the veins of the earth.  But Peppa Pig did not understand this.  All she understood was that it had stopped raining.