The (big, fat, totally bonkers) Diary of Pig Read online

  Unbelievable-Eve

  Hello.

  I don’t think any slops would have been able to predict what has happened to me. Not even proper ones what doesn’t taste like a field of flowers.

  The van turns a sharp corner and I falls over. I can’t be bothered to try and stand back up. It’s going so fast I would just fall down again. As I lies there feeling very sorry and sad I lets out a little sigh.

  “SOLDIER!” barks a gruff voice from behind me. “GET A GRIP! REMEMBER: YOU CAN BE DESTROYED – BUT NEVER DEFEATED.” I looks around trying to see who it came from. I knows it’s not Deathra; they can’t speak Pig. In the gloom, in the far corner, I can just make out a small cage, and in the cage is a little DOG. I has never met a DOG before. I has seen them, from a distance, rounding up the Sheeps across the valley, but this one doesn’t look like those DOGS.

  It’s smaller, and it’s white all over apart from two brown patches, one on its tummy and one over its eye.

  I wants to say, “My name is Pig, not Soldier,” but it comes out as, “Mm nmmms iggg, nttt oljer.”

  “LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE IN TROUBLE, SOLDIER. WELL, YOU’RE IN LUCK. THIS OLD DOG’S BEEN WAITING FOR HIS NEXT MISSION. LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE IT!” He takes off his collar and jiggles the pin of its buckle into the lock on his door. It clicks open.

  “CLOSED SHACKLE PADLOCK. AN EASY PICK,” he says calmly, like he does this kind of thing every day.

  As he walks over to where I is lying I notices he only has three legs; one of his back ones is missing. But this doesn’t seem to bother him. In fact he is way more steady on his three feet than I is on my four. The swaying van doesn’t affect him at all. Using his collar pin he undoes the padlock on my muzzle.

  If feels so nice to be able to move my mouth again. “Who are you?” I asks.

  “THE NAME’S RUSTY. THAT’S ALL YA NEED TO KNOW FOR NOW.”

  I tries to introduce myself, but he just carries on talking over the top of me.

  “NO TIME FOR PLEASANTRIES. TIME’S AGAINST US, SOLDIER. WE’LL LEAVE THE MEET ’N’ GREET FOR LATER. RIGHT NOW DEATH’S IMMINENT. ESCAPE’S PRIORITY NUMBER ONE!”

  “Death?” I asks, managing to squeeze a word in amongst all of his. “I thought I was just being taken to a place where I can’t hurt anyone else.”

  “WE’RE NOT OFF TO A HOLIDAY CAMP, SOLDIER! THIS AIN’T NO FUN BUS! YOU AND I ARE BOOKED ON A ONE-WAY RIDE. THEY’RE GONNA TAKE US OUTTA ACTION - PERMANENTLY.” He draws a line across his neck. “SAYONARA, SOLDIER.”

  “Well, I’m a Carnivaar!” I says firmly. “I ate a friend. Maybe I deserves my punishment.” As the words come out of my mouth I realizes I wants to take them back. I doesn’t want my punishment to be death – what is I saying??? Maybe I really has got Swine Flu and gone mad.

  “WE ALL HAVE TO LOSE OURSELVES IN ORDER TO FIND OURSELVES,” barks RUSTY. “WHEN YOU REACH ROCK-BOTTOM THERE’S ONLY ONE PLACE LEFT TO GO. BACK UP. TODAY’S NOT A DAY TO DIE. TODAY’S A DAY TO BUST THIS JOINT. YOU WITH ME?”

  I gives him a nervous little nod. I has no idea what he is saying or what “busting this joint” is. But it is all sounding better than what Deathra are about to do.

  “I CAN’T HEAR YOU, SOLDIER! I SAID, ‘ARE. YOU. WITH. ME?’” he barks, gruffly moving his face closer.

  “Yes, RUSTY, yes!” I says, much louder, nodding as hard as I can.

  “GOOD!” he says, giving me a wink. “THEN LET’S DO THIS THING. FOLLOW MY LEAD.”

  He takes a short run up and then starts hurling himself back and forth against the sides of the van, yelping and barking. For a small DOG he makes a lot of noise. I stands up and copies him. Where I slams into the side of the van, large Pig-shaped dents appear. Soon the back of the van is all bent out of shape. I has no idea why we is doing this, apart from to make a big mess, but it soon becomes clear. The van screeches to a stop and I hears Deathra get out and walk around to the back doors.

  They throws them open and looks inside. RUSTY cowers in the back of the van, whimpering. I can tell from the looks on their faces they thinks I has been beating him up, or worse, trying to eat him up. They looks at the sides of the van, at the damage I has done, and lets out angry hisses.

  Behind me I hears RUSTY quietly counting, “THREE, TWO, ONE…”

  And before I knows it he is sprinting down the van and throwing himself between Big and Little Deathra. he cries as Deathra ducks out of the way to avoid him.

  He lands on the road and sprints off towards the woods what runs along both sides of it.

  “IT’S DO OR DIE, SOLDIER! C’MON. JUMP!” RUSTY shouts back at me.

  Big Deathra hisses something at the Little one. He pulls the electric stick out of the strap around his middle. He flicks it on; even bigger sparks than before flies out of the end. Before I even has a chance to think what I is doing, I follows RUSTY’S lead. I runs as fast as I can towards the back doors. I is much bigger than him, there is no way I is going to be able to jump between Deathra. So instead, I smashes into them, knocking them both over backwards.

  “ST-RIIIIIKE!!!!!” I hears RUSTY cheer.

  I looks down at Deathra lying on the road, panting and groaning. I has totally winded them.

  “THIS WAY, SOLDIER!” shouts RUSTY from the woods. I runs as fast as I can, following the sound of his voice. My four Pig legs has to work super hard to catch him up – he’s really fast. Behind us I hears Deathra crashing through the woods, hissing and snarling.

  RUSTY niftily dodges through the trees. Deeper and deeper we goes. I has never been into woods before. I has only looked out at the ones behind my shed; the ones what Fox lives in.

  They is much darker inside than I imagined and much more tangly. Underneath the trees is lots of little brambles and bushes. RUSTY easily twists and turns to avoid them, but I is too big, all I can do is crash straight through. We runs and we runs for what feels like for ever. My lungs feels like they is on fire and my body stings from all the bramble cuts.

  We keeps on going and going until, finally, I falls over, or I should say somersaults over. I is running so fast that I doesn’t see the fallen tree trunk until it is too late. I hits it and flips right over the top of it. I lands flat on my back on the other side. I would celebrate the fact that I has just done my first-ever somersault, but I is in too much pain.

  “GOOD THINKING, SOLDIER PIG. REGROUP AND REASSESS,” says RUSTY, rolling in underneath the fallen trunk next to me. He pricks up his ears and listens. I tries to listen too, but all I can hear is myself wheezing and groaning.

  “Have … we … lost them?” I manages to croak.

  “AFFIRMATIVE,” says RUSTY. “WE’VE LOST OUR TAILS.”

  I checks, but my tail is still very much attached to my bottom and so is his. This must be more crazy soldier speak. I wishes Duck was here with me – he’d love all these odd phrases.

  I is so pleased that we has escaped Deathra that for a moment I forgets all the bad stuff and lets out a little happy fart.

  “HOLY MOLY, SOLDIER!” says RUSTY, sniffing the air. “WHAT’VE YOU BEEN EATING? POTPOURRI?”

  “I, err, was fed some funny slops,” I says, feeling myself blush all over. I really wishes my farts would just go back to normal.

  “NO KIDDING! THAT’S QUITE SOME FLOWERY FRAGRANCE YOU GOT GOING ON THERE,” he laughs. “NOW, SOLDIER, FARTS ASIDE, I WANT A DEBRIEF. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT I’M DEALING WITH HERE. YOU SAY YOU ATE A FRIEND. WHO D’YA CHOW DOWN ON? APART FROM THE ODD ROSEBUSH OR TWO? HA! HA! HA!”

  “I’m pretty sure I ate my friend Ki-Ki, a turkey,” I says, hanging my head in shame.

  “DON’T BLAME YA, SOLDIER. TURKEY SURE IS A FINE-TASTING BIRD,” he says, licking his lips.

  “But I doesn’t want to be a Carnivaar. I doesn’t want to eat other animals – especially not ones I really likes!” I protests.

  “LISTEN IN, SOLDIER PIG. I’VE GOT SOME NEWS FOR YOU. PIGS AIN’T CARNIVORES!” he says, prodding me with his paw.

  “Really? We’re not?” I says, s
uddenly feeling some sort of hope.

  “NO, PIGS ARE OMNIVORES. MEANS YOU LIKE YOUR MEAT AS WELL AS YOUR VEG. YOU GREEDY BUNCH!”

  My heart sinks. I so hoped he was going to say we was Vegytarian, just like I thought. If I is an Omnivore then of course I could have eaten Ki-Ki. Duck was wrong. If only I had known this before, I would never have let Ki-Ki sleep in my shed with me. I didn’t know I was so dangerous to be around.

  It starts to rain. I huddles in underneath the trunk with RUSTY; I doesn’t worry about by mistake eating him – he’s so tough I reckons he could probably fight me off with just his tail.

  “I SAY WE GET SOME ZEDS,” he says, curling up. “WE AIN’T GOIN’ NOWHERE IN THIS DOWNPOUR.” He closes one eye and falls asleep, snoring softly. Amazingly the other eye stays open, constantly looking around – looking for danger.

  I can’t believe that yesterday I was happily living on the Farm with all my friends, and now here I is, in a dark wood, with a crazy three-legged DOG. I is glad that he saved me from horrible Deathra, but what is I going to do now? I can’t live in the woods for ever. I has no idea how to live in the wild. What will I eat?

  As the rain gets heavier and heavier, so does my heart.

  Zero Six Hundred Hours

  Hello.

  I has decided that now I is being called Soldier that I should use soldier names for my diary days. I thinks this makes them sound much more exciting – not that they isn’t of course. Anything you does as a soldier is exciting – well, sort of.

  I is woken very early by a noisy mouse scrabbling around in a nearby bush. Woods is very noisy places, especially at night; everything rustles and squeaks.

  The sun is only just starting to rise, but RUSTY is already up. He’s hanging by his front paws from a nearby tree, pulling himself up and down.

  “I LOVE THE SMELL OF SWEAT IN THE MORNING,” he says, huffing and puffing. “ONE HUNDRED PULL-UPS EVERY DAY. IT’S WHAT KEEPS THIS SOLDIER FIGHTING FIT. YOU SHOULD TRY IT, SOLDIER PIG. SOON TURN THAT FAT PACK INTO A SIX PACK!”

  I looks down at my big belly and blushes.

  “Hey! Go easy there,” I hears a familiar voice shout from above me. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to tease him about his weight. Right, Pig?”

  I looks up. Surely it can’t be. It is…

  “DUCK!” I cries with delight as he lands with a soft plop in front of me. I so wants to hug him, but then I remembers the Omnivore thing and backs away.

  “A COMRADE OF YOURS, SOLDIER PIG? ” says RUSTY, saluting Duck.

  “Yes,” says Duck, doing a little salute in return. “I am Duck, Pig’s best friend. I tracked him here. I couldn’t let him be taken away without saying a proper goodbye.” He waddles over to me and gives me a little nudge with his wing. “Could I, my farty old friend?”

  “QUITE SOME TRACKING SKILLS YOU’VE GOT THERE, SOLDIER Duck,” says RUSTY, looking impressed.

  “Yes, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to track the van on the road, but once I realized you’d run off into the woods it got a lot easier,” says Duck. “Old Pig here leaves quite a trail of destruction in his wake.”

  “HMMMM, YES,” says RUSTY. “FIRST ON MY LIST OF POINTS TO ADDRESS. WE AIN’T GONNA EVADE CAPTURE FOR LONG WITH BIGFOOT HERE CREATING HIS OWN SUPER HIGHWAY WHEREVER WE GO! NOW, SOLDIER Duck, SOLDIER PIG TELLS ME HE’S EATEN SOMETHING HE SHOULDN’T HAVE. WHAT D’YOU SAY? ”

  “Well, he thinks he did,” says Duck, “but he’s wrong. He’s been set-up. And I’m determined to prove it.”

  “CONVICTED OF A CRIME HE DIDN’T COMMIT? WE’VE ALL BEEN THERE,” says RUSTY, who has gone back to exercising and is now doing something called “crunches”. “YOU GOTTA NOTION WHO DID DO IT?”

  “Yes, I think I do,” says Duck, nodding. “I’ve gone over all the events and I’ve uncovered some very interesting evidence.”

  I has never heard Duck talk like this before. It’s like he has become some Super Duck-Detective.

  “The first question I asked myself,” he continues, “is how did Pig’s mouth end up filled with Ki-Ki's feathers? A quick scout of the surrounding area revealed a large turnip-shaped hole in the veggie patch. I believe whoever really did do this removed said turnip and used it to get Pig to open his mouth. Pig can’t resist turnips, not even in his sleep. The true culprit then posted the feathers into his mouth as he happily chomped away on it.”

  “PHANTOM FEEDING. AN OLD TRICK. AIN’T SEEN THAT ONE SINCE MY DAYS WITH SPECIAL FORCES,” says RUSTY between his crunches.

  “Then I went back over Pig’s claim he was visited in the middle of the night by an old enemy. I thought this was impossible. But, a closer inspection of his house proved I was wrong. Sorry, Pig,” says Duck, looking at me. “I found a small, secret hatch cut into the side of it, and most tellingly, I found footprints: thin, long, three-toed footprints. There’s only one creature I know that has feet like that. EVIL CHICKENS!”

  RUSTY suddenly stops his crunching and sits up. “EVIL CHICKENS, HUH? TELL ME MORE, SOLDIER Duck. I’M ALL EARS.” What a strange thing to say – he only has two! It must be another special soldier saying.

  “Well, that’s about as far as I’ve got. I’ve no doubt the EVIL CHICKENS are behind all this,” Duck says, “but there’s one question I still don’t have the answer to: if Ki-Ki isn’t in Pig’s tummy, exactly where is he?”

  “YOU CAN GUARANTEE ONE THING,” growls RUSTY, flashing his pointy teeth. “IF THE ECS ARE INVOLVED THE ANSWER AIN’T GONNA BE PRETTY. THOSE BIRDS PLAY DIRTY!”

  “You has met them?” I asks, surprised to hear he has. I can’t imagine how.

  “I GOT HISTORY WITH THEIR KIND,” he growls. “THAT’S ALL I’M SAYIN’. IF CHICKENS ARE INVOLVED, THEN THIS OLD DOG WANTS IN. ME AND THEM GOT SOME UNFINISHED BUSINESS.”

  “That’s great news,” says Duck. “We’re going to need all the help we can get. If we can find them, then I am sure we can prove Pig is innocent, and hopefully find Ki-Ki too.”

  “AFFIRMATIVE, SOLDIER Duck. BUT WE NEED TO MOVE FAST. AS I SEE IT WE GOT OURSELVES TWO CHALLENGES HERE. NUMBER 1: WE GOTTA AVOID DEFRA – THEY AIN’T GONNA LET US JUST RUN AWAY LIKE THAT. NUMBER 2: WE GOTTA ASCERTAIN THE ENEMY POSITION. BUT WE AIN’T GONNA BE ABLE TO ADVANCE ON EITHER GOAL TILL WE GOT YOU SOLDIERS SOME BWST: BASIC WOODLAND SURVIVAL TRAININ’. STUFF’S ABOUT TO GET REAL. YOU READY FOR THAT? YOU READY TO LEAVE YOUR COMFORT ZONES?”

  Me and Duck both looks at each other. I don’t thinks either of us has any idea what he just said. But we both nods.

  “THAT’S WHAT I LIKE TO HEAR, SOLDIERS,” Rusty says. “LET’S GET BUSY.”

  Zero Rest Hours

  Hello.

  I, Soldier Pig, is VERY pleased to report that I is not going to starve! HOORAY!!! There may be no one to serve me slops in the woods, but there is food. Really tasty food.

  RUSTY has shown me these amazing things called acorns. At first I is not sure about them; they smells like a mix of mouldy wood and wet earth. But then I takes a little bite and I discovers they is in fact little balls of delicious yumminess. RUSTY tells me these is what Pigs used to eat in the old days before they got soft and went and lived with Farmers. He says they is an NSN: Natural Source of Nutrition, and that wherever there is woods you can find them.

  AMAZING!!!!

  “EAT UP,” he says, “’COS YOU’RE GONNA NEED ALL THE ENERGY YOU GOT FOR WHAT I HAVE PLANNED NEXT.”

  He’s not wrong. What he has planned is something he calls BCT: Basic Combat Training. (RUSTY likes to shorten things down to just letters.) At first I gets all excited. I imagines soon becoming a Brave Action Pig (a BAP – see, I can do it too!).

  But then the training starts and it’s not quite as fun as I’d hoped. I don’t feel so much like a BAP as a RAP (Rubbish Action Pig). Duck seems to find it all much easier than me, which is very annoying, and quite unfair. I is bigger and stronger, surely I should make a better soldier?!

  “FIRST UP,” barks RUSTY, “PHASE ONE: ENEMY AVOIDANCE. WE GOTTA GET STEALTHY.
WE GOTTA LEARN TO ‘TREAD SILENTLY’. THIS APPLIES PARTICULARLY TO YOU, LEAD BOOTS,” he says, looking straight at me. “WE NEED YOU SOUNDIN’ MORE ‘LITTLE MOUSE’ AND LESS ‘MASSIVE MOOSE’.”

  He demonstrates a special way of walking. I has to pick my feet really high up off the ground, then place them back down super softly. I feels like I is doing some silly dance. Duck is lucky – he is so light that he hardly makes any noise as he walks, so he doesn’t have to do any funny prancy-stepping. It takes me ages to just get the hang of making half the noise I normally does. The woodland floor is just too full of things what goes crunch and snap.

  Next RUSTY tells us about burying our poo. He says this is very important in “combat situations”. If you leave your poo lying around, it is easy to see where you has been. Before we does one, we has to dig a hole to do it into. Then, once we has finished, we has to fill the hole back in and pat the earth down to make it look like it never happened. Again, Duck is super lucky. His poo is tiny. He only has to dig a little hole. My poo is massive, so I has to dig a much bigger one. This is very tiring and takes ages. GRRRRRR!

  “GOOD WORK, SOLDIERS,” says RUSTY, nodding at where we has buried our poo. “NOW, LET’S TAKE IT TO THE NEXT LEVEL. PHASE TWO: SURVIVAL TRAINING. GOTTA STAY ALIVE TO STAY IN THE GAME! TIME TO BUILD OURSELVES SOME BASIC SHELTERS: A PLACE TO HIDE, A PLACE TO REST.”

  RUSTY gathers some long branches and stands them up so they makes a tall, pointy triangle shape. He then lays twigs across them and covers them in bits of bracken and leaves.

  “ONE WOODLAND SHELTER,” he says, showing off what he has built.

  We both has a go at making one. I has to say I is quite pleased with mine until I sees Duck’s – his is more perfect than RUSTY’S and has even got a little chimney. Duck’s nest-building practice has given him a huge advantage. As RUSTY walks around looking at what we has made, a breeze blows through the trees and mine collapses.