The (big, fat, totally bonkers) Diary of Pig Page 4

  “WELL, SOLDIER PIG,” he says, ”THAT’S QUITE AN ACHIEVEMENT. YOU’VE SINGLE-HANDEDLY INVENTED A SHELTER THAN TURNS INTO A BED. QUITE SOME FEAT!”

  I can’t decide whether he means this as a good thing or not.

  “RIGHT, THE FINAL PHASE. PHASE THREE: PHYSICAL EXERCISE. NO POINT HAVING SURVIVAL SKILLS IF YOU AIN’T FIT ENOUGH TO SURVIVE,” he says, giving my tummy a firm pat. I tries to hold it in and stop it wobbling around too much, but I is not very successful.

  “DON’T YOU WORRY, SOLDIER PIG, WE’LL SOON HAVE THAT STOMACH SO FIRM YOU COULD BOUNCE ACORNS OFF IT!” he barks. “NOW, FIRST UP, SQUAT THRUSTS.”

  He gives us a demonstration. He balances on his two front paws and jumps back and forth on his back leg. He makes it look super easy. Not a problem, I thinks.

  WRONG! I does two of them and is so tired I nearly collapses. All four of my legs feels like jelly – RUSTY has an unfair advantage having just three. Duck does ten like it is no bother at all. His body is really light. So unfair!

  I tries to do another one. It hurts so much I can’t help but let out a little moan.

  “REMEMBER, SOLDIER, PAIN’S JUST WEAKNESS LEAVING THE BODY,” says RUSTY loudly in my ear.

  He’s wrong. I feels full of pain and none of it seems to be leaving.

  “NOW, SIT-UPS,” he says. “GET DOWN AND GIVE ME TWENTY.”

  Duck gives his wings a little flex, then lies down on his back. He curls his wings around behind his head, then lifts it up and touches his beak to his feet. I stares in amazement – how does Duck know about all this stuff? Does he do a secret workout in his Duck House every morning?

  I gets down and does my best to copy, only I has a big fat belly in-between my head and my toes – it’s almost impossible. All the air in my body gets squashed into the middle. Instead of doing a sit-up, I does an enormous fart. It’s unlike any I has ever done before. It doesn’t make a sound, not even a little hiss. The only way you would know that I has done it is because the air suddenly fills with a strong acorny pong. It’s REALLY stinky. I is so happy. My farts no longer smell of flowers.

  “SNF: SILENT NINJA FARTING. I LIKE IT,” says RUSTY, giving me a pat on the bottom. “BET YOUR ANCESTORS USED THAT TO GREAT EFFECT.”

  “What does you mean?” I asks, hoping he is going to tell me about some great fart games what old Pigs used to play.

  “I MEAN IT WOULD HAVE AFFORDED THEM THE ELEMENT OF SURPRISE WHEN THEY SNUCK UP ON THEIR PREY. I RECKON FARTS LIKE THAT COULD DO SERIOUS DAMAGE IF USED CORRECTLY – COULD KNOCK A SMALL CREATURE OUT AT TWENTY PACES, OR AT LEAST MAKE IT SO SICK IT COULDN’T MOVE. GOOD JOB THE WIND’S NOT BLOWING IN SOLDIER Duck’s DIRECTION. REMEMBER, LIKE I SAID, YOU PIGS GOT THAT OMNIVORE THING GOING ON! IT AIN’T CARROTS YOUR ANCESTORS WAS HUNTIN’.”

  I wish he would stop mentioning the Omnivore thing. I is really trying as hard as I can to believe that I DIDN’T eat Ki-Ki.

  “RIGHT, SOLDIERS!” Rusty says, changing the subject. “THINK IT’S TIME WE PUT OUR NEW SKILLS TO WORK IN THE FIELD. YOU FEEL RFSA: READY FOR SOME ACTION?”

  I has to say, I feels RFABLD: Ready For a Big Lie-Down, but I doesn’t think that is the sort of thing a soldier should be saying or doing.

  Contact! Contact!

  Hello.

  I is so pleased to be writing this, because it means that it is the end of the day and oh, what a day it has been!!!

  Immediately after our training finishes we “strikes camp”. This means knocking down everything we has built and covering up everything we has done, or made. I likes this bit – I is good at knocking stuff over. Just to be on the safe side I also gobbles – I means clears up – every acorn I can find too.

  Whilst we does this RUSTY disappears off into the woods. When he comes back he is covered in stripes of brown and green.

  “BEFORE WE PROCEED,” says RUSTY, beckoning us over, “THERE IS JUST ONE LAST SMALL MATTER WE NEED TO TACKLE. SOLDIER PIG, YOU’RE TOO PINK. SOLDIER Duck, YOU’RE TOO WHITE. WE GOTTA BLEND YOU INTO THE WOODS BETTER. TIME TO GET YOU TWO CAMOED UP.”

  RUSTY shows us what he means. We has to smear ourselves all over with earth, moss and leaves. There is a lot of me to cover, so RUSTY gives me some help. Soon I looks just like him. I looks down at myself. It’s amazing; the green and brown stripes really does make us blend in. It’s like I is sort-of almost invisible.

  “THAT’S BETTER!” says RUSTY, inspecting us. “IF I SQUINT IT’S LIKE NEITHER OF YOU ARE THERE. HA! HA!”

  I laughs along with him, but Duck doesn’t seem to find it so funny. I likes being all dirty, but I is not so sure he does – when he is on the Farm he always keeps his feathers nice and clean.

  “OK,” continues RUSTY, “TIME TO MOVE OUT. I WANT YOU TO MAINTAIN A CONSTANT STATE OF SUSPICIOUS ALERTNESS AT ALL TIMES. IF WE’RE GONNA FIND THESE ENEMY CHICKENS WE GOTTA NOT GET OURSELVES CAUGHT. I’LL LEAD. Duck, YOU TAKE THE MIDDLE. PIG, YOU BRING UP THE REAR. LET’S GO.”

  I likes “BRINGING UP THE REAR” – it means I can stop and eat acorns without Duck or RUSTY noticing. I has a little nibble, then I quickly catches them back up before they has time to realize what I is doing.

  I has just catched up with them for the fourth time, after finding and eating the biggest acorn yet (it was nearly the size of a Brussels sprout!), when we reaches the edge of a small stream. All of a sudden RUSTY holds his paw up in the air and stops still as a statue. Duck immediately freezes too. I tries to freeze, but I is mid-jog so I ends up

  in a really difficult position. My front leg is halfway off the ground and so is one of my back ones. It takes all my balancing powers not to fall over. I really hopes we doesn’t have to stand like this for too long.

  RUSTY signals at something up ahead. I looks at where he is pointing. Through the trees I sees a path and on the path I sees a bench. Sitting on it is a Farmer! She’s reading a newspaper – I knows what these is as Mr Sandal sometimes sits in his veggie-patch chair reading one.

  I can just make out the picture on the front of it.

  It looks like a Pig.

  It looks a lot like a Pig like me.

  In fact … I THINKS IT IS ME!!!!

  I lets out a little gasp. RUSTY and Duck both turns around and gives me a “Shhhhhh!” stare.

  Being stared at makes my balancing go all wrong and, with a loud splosh, I stumbles head first into the stream. The water is freezing cold. I pulls myself out as quick as I can.

  The Farmer looks up. She stares straight through the woods towards where I is standing. For a moment I hopes my camo will stop her seeing me. But then I catches a glimpse of my reflection. The water from the stream has smudged all the stripes. I looks like some sort of very ill, green-monster Pig.

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” she screams, dropping the paper and running off down the path, her Farmer arms flapping like a crazy bird’s.

  “CONTACT. WAIT OUT,” whispers RUSTY, crouching down. Duck and I both copies him. We waits until we is sure the Farmer has gone, then RUSTY runs over and grabs the newspaper and brings it back. I stares down at the Pig picture. I was right, it is me. Mr and Mrs Sandal must have taken it without me knowing – it is a picture of me eating a turnip. I looks very happy.

  “DANGEROUS PIG ON THE RUN,” says Duck, reading the Farmer words underneath it. “A diseased Pig is on the run in the local woods. The creature, who is highly aggressive, should not be approached. Anyone who sees it is advised to keep well clear and contact DEFRA immediately.”

  I can’t believe I is on the front of the newspaper. I wishes it was about doing something good so that I could be proud.

  RUSTY suddenly goes super-still again. His ears prick up and he sniffs the air.

  “DEFRA,” he whispers, “INCOMING FROM THE EAST. THEY MUST HAVE FOLLOWED THE SOUND OF SCREAMING.”

  I looks around. I can’t see them.

  “ETA ONE MINUTE AND COUNTING,” he continues. “SOLDIER Duck, USING YOUR HOMING SKILLS, CAN YOU DETERMINE THE DIRECTION OF THE Farm?”

  “Affirmativ
e. Latitude: three zero degrees one four decimal five minutes by longitude: zero eight degrees one eight decimal three minutes.”

  Wow! Duck just keeps on surprising me with the things he can do and knows. I really is going to have to have a long chat with him if I survives all this. I looks behind; in the distance I sees a flash of white moving between the trees. Deathra! RUSTY’Snose was right.

  “QUICK, SOLDIERS! THIS WAY,” he barks, dashing across the path and into the woods on the other side.

  Duck is surprisingly fast; he can almost keep up with RUSTY. Dodging around brambles and bushes is definitely easier when you is smaller, and maybe when you has not been filling yourself up on delicious acorns all morning – oooopsie.

  “COME ON, SOLDIER PIG!” RUSTY shouts back at me. “WE AIN’T OUT ON SOME SUNDAY AFTERNOON STROLL IN THE PARK!” I tries to speed up but my legs keep bashing against my acorn-filled tummy as it swings around.

  I hears a loud, nasty hiss close behind me. I glances over my shoulder. It’s Deathra – they is getting closer with every step.

  “SHHHHHHTAB SHHHHIM WISHHHHHH SHHORE SHHHHTICK,” I hears Big Deathra hiss. I has no idea what he has said, but I soon gets a pretty good idea what he means.

  I hears the buzz of the electric stick being turned on. The thought of it makes my legs go all wibbly-wobbly. I stumbles forward – I tries to stop myself falling but I can’t.

  I tumbles over head first and before I knows it – BUMPH! BUMPH! BUMPH! – I is bouncing down a steep slope and into a tangly pile of bushes.

  “PIG !!! ”

  I hears Duck cry out. I looks up; scrambling down towards me is Deathra. I rolls over and tries to run, but my front leg gets tangled up in some ivy. I falls flat on my face.

  “HSSSSSS, HSSSSSS, HSSSSSSS!” they both laughs through their helmets.

  Small Deathra lurches towards me with the electric stick.

  “NO! PLEASE, NOOOOOOO!!” I screams.

  He’s just about to stab it into my bottom when I hears a familiar cry:

  “YIPPEE-KI-YAY!!!!!!!!” howls RUSTY, leaping through the air and biting on to Little Deathra’s bottom.

  Little Deathra cries out, swinging around to try and see what’s causing his pain. As he does he by mistake hits Big Deathra in the belly with his electric stick. Blue sparks fly out. Big Deathra falls to the floor clutching his middle and groaning.

  RUSTY drops to the ground. Little Deathra angrily lunges at him. Only as he does he trips over one of Big Deathra’s large feet. He falls forwards, landing on top of his buzzing stick. His body judders around like he’s being stung by a thousand bees.

  Duck rushes over and frees my leg.

  “COME ON!” shouts RUSTY. “THEY’RE DOWN, BUT NOT FOR LONG.”

  Now I has seen how painful being stabbed with the electric stick REALLY is, I finds that I can run quite a bit faster. I can almost keep up.

  The woods is huge. It feels like we runs for a million miles. I starts to wonder if we is ever going to stop, but finally, I is pleased to say we does.

  RUSTY holds up his paw and sniffs the air.

  “Has … we … lost … them?” I manages to splutter out. My chest feels so tight, like cow is sitting on it.

  “AFFIRMATIVE, SOLDER PIG.” he says. “WE MUST HAVE REALLY COMPROMISED THEM BACK THERE. I DON’T THINK WE’LL BE SEEING THEM AGAIN TODAY.”

  I collapses to the floor. I knows it’s probably not what a soldier is supposed to do, but I can’t help it. I is completely and totally exhausted. I stares up through the trees. The sky is starting to get dark.

  “OK, SOLDIERS. I THINK THAT’S ENOUGH ADVENTURE FOR ONE DAY,” says RUSTY. “I SAY WE MAKE CAMP HERE. GET SOME R&R – REST AND RECUPERATION – AND CRACK ON FIRST THING IN THE AM.”.

  Right now, I thinks these might be the best words I has ever heard anyone say. I don’t thinks I has ever been so pleased for a day to be over!

  Foxtrot Oscar X-Ray

  Hello.

  When I said the day was over I was wrong. It turns out there was still a tiny bit more to go. But I is not going to complain. Tonight we found out what RUSTY calls IBI: Important Breakthrough Intelligence.

  RUSTY said he thought it best that he and Duck build our shelter and that I should use my hunting expertize to find leaves and bracken to make us a bed. I is not knowing that I has such skills; RUSTY must know things about me that even I doesn’t.

  Just as I is expertly gathering up a really big bunch of leaves, I catches something out of the corner of my eye.

  Something moving through the woods. At first I panics – what if it’s Deathra? But it’s too small and the wrong shape.

  “You!!!!” says Duck angrily, putting down the twigs he was building with and turning to face the creature. I can see it more clearly now. Its sharp face and yellow eyes is becoming clearer as it comes out of the shadows.

  “WELL, WELL, WELL, FOXTROT, OSCAR, X-RAY,” says RUSTY.

  “FOX!” says Duck. He almost spits the word out.

  FOX! FOX WILL EAT DUCK!! JUST LIKE HE ATE ALL HIS FAMILY!!! I runs around and stands myself between Duck and nasty, nasty, Fox.

  “Back off!” I shouts. “I is an Omnivore – you know what that means? It means, if I wants, I could eat you up. And if you so much as lays one paw on Duck, I will!”

  “Ah, Pig!” says Fox in a voice that totally surprises me. I has never actually heard him speak. I imagined he would sound nasty, like he looks. But his voice is soft and sounds more like he is singing than talking. “Cool your trotters, boyo. No need to be coming over all unnecessary-like. I’m keepin’ it tidy these days. No fatty proteins or carbs after six o’clock, and I has to say I feels all the better for it. It’s given me so much more energy.”

  “Fatty proteins!” I hears Duck mutter under his breath. “Is that all my family was to you?”

  “You should try it; it’s all the rage up in the valleys,” continues Fox, who is clearly not hearing Duck, or is just ignoring him. “Now tell me, what’s occurin’? What brings you to my patch? You’re not here to talk healthy eating now, are you?”

  “WE’RE LOOKING FOR SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES,” says RUSTY, circling him and giving him a good sniff. “SOME CHICKENS. WOULDN’T HAPPEN TO HAVE COME ACROSS ANY WOULD YOU? SMELLS LIKE YOU MIGHT’VE.”

  “Ah! An ol’ DOG’S intuition,” says Fox, his yellow eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “You’re right. As it goes I have seen them. And I’d wager I’ve a pretty good idea why you’re lookin’ for them too. I heard what happened to you in that henhouse sounded pretty immense. And I don’t mean in a good way neither.”

  “NOW, YOU KNOW THE RULES, Fox,” says RUSTY firmly. “WHAT HAPPENS IN THE HENHOUSE, STAYS IN THE HENHOUSE. WE BOTH KNOW THAT.”

  “Fair play, fair play!” nods Fox. “Well you’ve caught me in a good mood – must be another positive effect of the new diet – so I’ll tell you what I know. You’ll find what you’re looking for up the Old Oak Tree. I’ve no idea what they’re up to, mind. You know those crafty birds - always up to some shenanigans or other.”

  “If you knows where they is, why hasn’t you eaten them? How do we know you is not trying to trick us?” I says, not sure whether to believe him or not. I knows how much Fox loves CHICKENS. He was always trying to get into the CHICKEN HOUSE and eat them when they lived on the Farm. I can’t understand why he wouldn’t be gobbling them up now he has the chance.

  “I won’t lie to you – I do favour the fowl. White meat is so much easier on the stomach than red,” he says, looking over at Duck and smiling. “But honestly, they’ve offered me a crackin’ little deal: I leave them alone and they say they’ll make all my Christmases come at once. They’ve promised me something proper tasty if I keep my distance.”

  “WELL, IT SURE SOUNDS LIKE YOU GOT YOURSELF AN INTERESTING PROPOSITION THERE,” replies RUSTY. “THANKS FOR THE HEADS-UP.”

  “Always a pleasure,” says Fox, turning his twinkling yellow eyes on to Duck. “And I do hope our paths cross again - preferab
ly pre six o’clock. It would be so nice to complete the set, if you catch my drift …”

  “If you think I’m even going to grace your puerile, childish goading with an answer,” snarls Duck, his beak clenched so tightly the words can hardly get out, “then you can think again.”

  “OK! OK! No need to get all hot ’n’ bothered. I’m only jokin’…” laughs Fox, turning and disappearing back into the woods. “… Or am I? Ha! Ha! Ha!” His voice echoes back out of the darkness: “or … am … I?”

  “Wow, Duck!” I says. “I can’t believe, after all he has done, you isn’t super scared of him.”

  “He may have taken my family,” says Duck, picking up a twig and snapping it angrily in half, “but I’ll never let him take my dignity!”

  Clear and Present Danger

  Hello.

  I is happy to say that once again I has woken up and has not eaten anyone. In fact last night I slept very well. I thinks this is partly because RUSTY and Duck built such a good shelter, but mainly because of my expert bed gathering and making.

  When I wakes up I finds that RUSTY has gathered a pile of acorns for me and some worms for Duck. I doesn’t like to think what he might have eaten himself – I knows that DOGS is not Vegytarians.

  “EAT UP, SOLDIERS,” he says. “THE THEATRE OF WAR IS NO PLACE FOR THE WEAK. OUR FIRST OBJECTIVE OF THE DAY: REACH THE OLD OAK TREE AND CONFIRM PRESENCE OF ENEMY CHICKEN.”

  Duck and I nods in agreement. We gobbles up our food, strikes our camp, reapplies the camo what got washed off me yesterday, and sets off towards the Old Oak Tree. Duck knows the way so he leads.

  RUSTY says today is what Farmers call “Sunday”. This means Deathra won’t be working; Sunday is a special day when Farmers is allowed to be lazy. So he says we can “FOCUS ALL OUR ATTENTION ON THE FORWARD ENEMY POSITION, WITHOUT FEAR OF COMPROMISE FROM BEHIND.” Phew! I doesn’t want anything bad to happen to my behind. Ha! Ha! Ha!