Edmond woke up.
The pig's eyes opened. "It was just a dream," he
murmured quietly to himself, "Just another one of your
fantasies, Edmond."
He stared at the clock; trying to figure out what
those two straight black lines, connected to the centre of a
large beige circle, were trying to communicate.
"Oh yes," muttered the piglet, "The long one is for
minutes, and the fat one," Edmond didn't like that word. He
was bullied for being chubby as a younger child. Even though
that was at the beginning of his piglethood, when his only
other recollection from that era was playing around in a
sludge-bath, this one was practically burned into his
neurons. Pigs were naturally fat, and so they never took it
too hard when a skinny chiwawa reminded the infantile crowd
of the pigs' additional cargo. However, Edmond
was
offended by these nicknames. And he was
especially
offended by the "You Must Be A Delight Because My Dad Said
That The More Fat You've Got In Bacon The Better It Tastes"
joke.
The time was 3 hours before dawn. He ought to return
to his sleep...
The hell with sleep!
Edmond walked down the fabricated marble stairs of his
mansion, step by step, or more exactly, trot by trot, whilst
his porky legs led the way to the darkness of the first
floor. He was living alone for a while now. His parents had
long ago moved to a retirement home, and all his brothers,
who were all incomparably older than him, had already moved
out. Edmond was often lonely and frightened, but never
confessed the fact to a soul. Living in a colossal abode all
by himself could be terrifying - especially at night. He
would mostly occupy his mind by dreaming.
Useful
literature was also a hobby of his. It meant that he would
read many "How To..." books, (well, usually it was only the
purchasing he did) and pretend to thoroughly understand and
to actually be able to implement the knowledge he had
accumulated. Of course, Edmond didn't
really know how to
do all the things he had learnt, but this still was a nice
way to turn his dreams into reality - or something of the
sort.
The piglet made his way to the fridge and opened it.
"Hmmm... what shall I eat?" said the pig to the open fridge,
which was currently stacked with high-cholesterol goods. It
was not Edmond who did the shopping in the house. Gemma, the
house maid, would go shopping thrice a weak, only to fulfill
the young piglet's hunger. She would also clean his clothes,
tidy his bedroom, in fact, she would do absolutely
everything in the house; otherwise, it would have really
looked like a pigsty!
He placed his paw on a frozen chunk of goat ribs,
disconnected it from the rest of its body, and stuffed it
into the oven.
"Two hundred degrees will teach you a lesson. No more
intruding my dreams!" shouted the pig. "Got that?"
The goat's head stood faceless.
Lightning flashed outside, inviting the roaring
thunder that followed. It would rain tonight, and Edmond
wished it wouldn't. He thought of hiding under Mummy and
Daddy's blanket, for a moment, but it was useless.
Edmond was home alone.
