(prompt: 'touch' - 5/7/2019)
"It's all very well to be one-eyed and piggy-eyed," said Porky squinting his small deep-set eyes even tighter. "It's natural for me. I AM a pig, after all. But pie-eyed is another matter!"
"I know what you mean." Bertram looked as gloomy as a Border Leicester ram can... as though the expression 'down in the mouth' had been created especially for him. "Once upon a long time ago, on Christmas Day, I peeked in through the Boss's window and— "
"NO!" Porky moaned piteously. "NOT the roast pig with the apple in it's mouth?!? P-L-E-A-S-E!?!"
Bertram shook his head in a vigorous 'NO' of his own. "... and I saw all those two-leggeds raising glasses of... wait for it... hot 'Spiced Apple Toddy'! WELL-ll-ll! Talk about putting a rose in every cheek - and more than a few cheery chuckles, as well."
Despite his relief, no chuckles came from Porky as he peered through the barn's skylight at the stars above. It mattered little that he shared his deepest inner musings and philosophising with a sheep.
Porky's deeply concerned face confirmed Bertram's thoughts. "Aha! I could see where this was going. It's all about the result of that fermented barley from the bottom of the hen's feed bin, isn't it?" As Porky nodded sadly, Bertram added, "Henrietta's Girls' Night Inn, huh?"
"Girls' Night Inn was aptly named, my friend! All innocent fun to start with... just a bunch of young floosies kicking up their toenails. And then they became all touchy-feely, in a demonstration of sisterly solidarity, or so they clucked in unison—"
"Are you saying you don't bahh-lieve in 'Layers' Liberation'?"
"No, no! Quite the opposite. I'm not THAT pig-headed, you know!" Porky crunkled his snout in disgust. "It was when they began falling off their perches; and before you could say 'Ferdinand Fox is on the prowl' they went to work on their layer boxes. I've heard of getting smashed... but 'smashing' the only nests they've ever known, plus their auto water tap? AND then shove their feed trough completely off its moorings?" Porky paused to grievously grunt his displeasure . "Good and proper pie-eyed they were. Nice little dolly-birds like that. All well-hatched as could be. You just never know, huh?"
Bertram frowned... a formidable sign as his outraged eyes all but disappeared below the impressive beanie-style top-knot he sported in latest, top-guru approved style. Not quite fully accustomed to his New Age look, Bertram asked suspiciously, in his sternest voice, "You're not telling me a porkie, Porky? Not trying to pull the wool over my eyes?"
"NEVER, Bertie, old mate." Porky snuffled some before being able to continue in his saddest voice. "You can't blame Old McLarsen for sharpening his axe and firing up that furnace. If only the girls hadn't also been 'off the lay'." Porky dropped his voice a decibel or three and glanced furtively over his shoulders to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. He'd never forgotten his dear old Granny's sage words about being careful what you said out loud, 'because the corn has ears, you know'. And there was quite a stash of them in the corner of the barn.
"I'll tell you straight, young Bertie, word around the farm is that the old man and his Missus needed their eiderdowns pumped up for winter, so all those feathers were in great demand." A tear escaped from Porky's piggy eye. Just one.
YOU ARE READING
Think I Can FlyShort Story
My 2019 collection of flash fiction and non-fiction stories inspired by a weekly prompt word begins. And who better to feature first than an Aussie achiever extraordinaire?