by Billy Miner
I arrived at the place where the party was. The house was huge. The front yard had elegant statues, decorative patterns carved in stone, and a flowing water fountain. These people were loaded.
I guess if I ate less, I could have saved up more money to buy stuff like that, but eating good food was a priority to me and I wasn’t going to let that go.
Anyway, I walked over there, something I rarely did, and I figured that because of all the walking I lost some weight, so loading up on free snacks wasn’t going to be a problem.
But then I stepped through the door… well… at least I tried. I couldn’t get through. I was too… uhm… wide. Or maybe that stupid doorway wasn’t wide enough; yes, that had to be it. I am sure the architect who designed that place, and the construction workers who carried out the plans, just didn’t know what they were doing. The doorway wasn’t wide enough.
“I’m stuck!” I said, completely irritated by the rich people’s poor choice in housing.
“We will help you out,” someone said.
“I’ll help too,” another one said, coming to the rescue.
“Push!”
“I am pushing. This fat pig is just not moving.”
“Hey,” I said. “Did you just call me f…”
But before I could finish what I was saying, they succeeded and pushed me through the doorway. I rolled forward and landed on the floor, face first.
“Ouch!” I said.
“You’re welcome,” one of the guys said.
“Oh yes, thank you for…”
But they walked away. Not the nicest people I’ve met, I guess. But who cares? I tried to forget about them, because I was about to eat some good FOOD!
There were a few individuals who shook my hand and introduced themselves. It was somewhat interesting, but not really. All I could think of was how much I was going to eat.
I went to the table with snacks and to my surprise, it said,
Please take only one bowl full. Thank you.
WHAT?!! These people were rich and they didn’t even buy enough to provide everyone a full tummy? I thought this was a buffet, an all-you-can-eat party. It was absurd! No, no, no. I couldn’t abide by their rules? I could already pictures my stomach growling, trying to hike all the way home with an empty stomach. No way. This was not going to happen.
I have to admit that I couldn’t control myself. Even I, the one with the most self-discipline in the world, couldn’t do it.
I looked at the food on the table. There were cakes, cupcakes, candy canes, chocolate bars, cream cheese, cheesecake, ice cream, and popsicles; three different kinds of pudding, and strawberries and marshmallows you could hold in a chocolate or caramel fountain. How dare they demand that I would only take one bowl when not every dish on the table would fit in my bowl?
So yes, I didn’t keep the rules, or guidelines, if you will. I looked around, making sure that nobody saw me. Then I reached over and filled up five bowls of food, stuffing them in my pockets. My coat was big, and I don’t think anybody noticed.
However, when I left the party, I almost tripped and lost my balance a little bit. I bumped against the wall and something from beneath my coat spilled. I kept walking out the door, since cleaning it up would raise suspicion, but I hoped that no one had seen it.
There.
That’s my confession.
That’s my story.
I just love good food; I love candy; I just can’t help it.
Entry 3: I Am Kevin
Hi. My name is Kevin. I am 10 years old. Maybe you didn’t know, but I am a pigman. This means that not everybody likes me. I have been scolded, bullied, and taken advantage of by “regular” kids.
I hate them. I don’t think they have the right to treat me like that, just because I am different.
But I wasn’t going to let them continue this way.
I became a mischievous bully myself. It just happened over time, as I tried to fight for my dignity. I guess just telling them they were wrong or making snobbish remarks after they sneered at me didn’t do the trick. So I decided to fight back; not literally, but with pranks.
Pranks are one of the best ways to go if you ask me. They don’t see them coming, they don’t know who did it, and they certainly don’t deserve to be skipped. And above all, they can be funny.
So let me tell you about a couple of pranks I played on these ignoramuses.
Prank number 1
Suzy was a mean girl. She always called me names and pointed out that my pig face was ugly. Well, I was going to show her.
One time, she came out of the bathroom.
The bathroom happened to be outside and in order to get there, you had to walk through the school playground. It was just temporary, since the school was under construction. Meanwhile, all of us, unfortunate children, were stuck in some kind of back up building with no bathrooms, no solid walls, and noisy floors. Everyone hated it, and it had been going on for months now. The teachers claimed they were making great progress with the new buildings, but the children in our class just felt like it was taking forever and never going to be finished.
But enough background on that. You’ll find out in a minute why I am explaining all this to you.
Anyway, she came out of the bathroom. And stepped outside the tiny bathroom building. Oh yes, did I mention there was a giant puddle on the playground, not too far from the bathrooms? Well, now you now.
Do you see it coming? It was hilarious! I spun a cord in front of the bathroom, from one tree to another. It was the perfect distance and the ideal place to do it. The puddle was muddy and disgusting, something only a… well… something only a pig would enjoy rolling in… or me… since I am a pigman.
She suspected nothing. She simply walked to her classroom and tripped.
SPLASH!
She fell in the puddle and was covered in mud.
“Eeeeeeh!” she squealed.
But nobody helped her. Nobody heard her. They were all in class. I was there though. I had been watching from the window even before it happened. My plan had been watertight (pun intended), and it worked.
Prank number 2
I always hated our teacher, Mr. Stack. But when he called me “unintelligent,” I was knew I was bound to get my revenge. It was inevitable. It had to happen. I know he was just trying to motivate me to work harder at an assignment, but I didn’t think it was appropriate that he would call me that. After all, this only became a challenge to see who could outsmart whom. And that’s precisely what I was going to show him.
Mr. Stack had been in that lazy, no-good teacher’s room for 30 minutes. I once opened the door there and the stinking odor of adult black coffee permeated my nostrils. I don’t know why those teachers like it so much in there, but I got out of there as soon as I could, saving myself the gagging reflexes once again.
My trap was well-timed and smart.
Another trip wire, but a different idea.
Mr. Stack had no idea I wasn’t playing with the other kids on the playground during recess. Secretly, I had snuck into the classroom, place the trip wire, and…
A smelly bucket full of dirty baby diapers and fertilizer from the surrounding farms in town.
Ha!
Now all he had to do, was enter the classroom first, which he usually did anyway. If one of the other children would have come in, it would have been pretty bad; and that’s an understatement.
It happened.
It was awesome!
Mr. Stack opened the door and hit the trip wire with his foot, setting off a mechanism that allowed the bucket with pooh above the door to tilt and have its contents drop on his head.
“Aaaaah!” he screamed, while he was covered in baby and cattle excrement.
It was hilarious. This teacher would never call me “unintelligent” again; and the best part is that he never found out who did it. Or did he?
Entry 4: I Am Marshall
My name is Marshall. I am 30 years old. I have been in the army for 12 yea
rs now and I am one of the best. I have trained hard to become what I am today: An officer of the regional district. I have won wars and commanded legions against vicious enemies.
I am a pigman, as you might have guessed already. No man defies me. I am the highest ranking officer and my orders need to be obeyed. That status is something only obtained by the most disciplined soldiers.
Something went wrong though. It was only a day ago that I had some bad luck and crashed into someone’s valuables. But first, let me explain myself here. It didn’t just happen without a reason.
It wasn’t pretty. Dangerous endermen, skeletons, and zombies were planning an assault on the fortress, and they were combining forces to destroy us. Only minutes after their preparation, they came in… hundreds of them. Screams and war cries were heard from their side, some of them storming at us like raging animals.
“Kraaaah!”
“Wreeeh!”
“Reeeeeh!”
It was terrible to listen to. I almost felt like blocking my ears, but I took courage and led my troops against the assailing enemies.
“For our country!” I yelled.
Like a true, brave pigman, I ran forward and hit some skeletons in the face. Zombies were trying to bite me, but I resisted and avoided them completely. We were about to overcome them. Our soldiers were fighting for their lives. It wasn’t going to take much longer before we would annihilate the army of the undead.
But then there were endermen. They flew forward with renewed faith in their efforts. There were numerous hordes of them: Filthy, black endermen with shiny eyes.
“Pull back!” I shouted, but nobody listened.
“Come one! Let’s get back! Retreat!”
Again, nobody heard me. They were all walking into a trap, surrounded by the vile creatures from the End. But I wasn’t going to let them take us. There was no way in Nether that I was willing to give up or surrender.
So I turned around.
Better to die an honorable death than to be the only survivor because of acts of cowardice.
I said a little prayer in my head and ran at them.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster!
BANG!
I accidentally ran into another person. That person was a teacher. What was she doing here in the first place? This was a war zone! But no matter what the reason, she dropped a vase she was going to put in the classroom. The vase fell on the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces.
“Watch where you’re going!” she yelled in anger.
“Just look at what you did! This vase was expensive!”
I looked at the glass on the ground and I was surprised. I didn’t even realize what was going on until a few seconds after it happened. I looked at the teacher. She was furious, so I decided to run away. Ironically, I stormed at hundreds of endermen to give my life for the nation, but I couldn’t face the shaming of my own teacher.
It was bad.
Entry 5: Split Up
They were all looking at me angrily, the people in that room. I couldn’t stand looking in their eyes. There was so much hatred. Why were they judging me like this? Was it because I was a pigman? That’s discrimination!
I didn’t get it.
I just did not get it.
Therefore, I was waiting for an explanation.
My favorite teacher looked at me. Her name was Ms. Barley. She was the nicest one in the whole school, and I knew she would take my side.
“Jerome,” she started. “You are 15 now and you should know better.”
“About what?” I asked.
“Care to tell him again?” she asked as she looked at the others in the room.
The first one began her complaints. It was an old lady with glasses and a walking stick. She was wearing a grey outfit and looked meaner than the other ones.
“I’ll tell you what he did!” she almost yelled in her old voice. “He broke my window with his ball. He kicked it right at my brand new window and then I saw him run away, even after another child asked him what happened.”
“Jerome,” the Ms. Barley said. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I am not sure when that happened but I don’t remember much of it.”
“Well, we will figure this out,” the teacher said. “What else?”
Then the next person spoke up. It was a rich lawyer whom I thought I recognized, but the memory was vague. I was certain I had seen his face somewhere, but I didn’t recall where. He was wearing a fancy shirt and expensive boots. His pants seemed above the average price range and he had sunglasses that he pulled up to his forehead.
“This little pigman stole my food and my bowls,” he complained. “One of my servants caught him right before he left the door, watching him spill some of it on my living room floor.”
I wasn’t liking where this was going. The teacher looked at me. She seemed disappointed.
“He tripped me and got mud all over me!” the girl in the corner cried. “It was my favorite dress, and now it’s ruined.”
Ms. Barley looked at me again.
“Jerome,” she said. “Why did you do that?”
“Oh, I don’t remember doing that,” I said. “But I remember you calling me names at school. I never liked you anyway,” I said to the girl in the corner.
“That’s no reason to make me trip,” she sneered back.
“She is right, Jerome,” the teacher said. “You are not allowed to trip people, no matter what they say. But I will talk with her about saying nice things later. Anyway,” she said as she turned to another teacher. “Why are you here?”
“He set a trap for me,” Mr. Stack whined.
It was my least favorite teacher. He was always insulting me with his unkind comments.
“At first I didn’t know who did it,” he continued. “But then I found something that gave him away and I just knew that he is the one who had the bucket with dirty diapers fall on me.”
“Why did you do that?” my favorite teacher asked calmly.
“I am not sure if I did or not,” I responded. “But if I did, then I think Mr. Stack probably deserved it. He is always pestering me, making me look stupid and saying that I can’t do it.”
“That’s because you are lazy in class,” Mr. Stack said. “You don’t pay attention and you distract the other students.”
I didn’t have anything to say against that. It sounded like something I would do, but my memory was shattered. I couldn’t remember any specific details.
The last accuser was another teacher. Her name was Mrs. Snowbird. She looked at me and shook her head before she was given a turn to speak up.
“Now you,” Ms. Barley said. “What is it that you claim this teenage pigman did to you?”
“He ran right into me,” she started. “And if that wasn’t enough, he broke my beautiful vase. And then he didn’t apologize; he just left! How rude.”
Ms. Barley looked at me again. I didn’t have the guts to look her in the eyes, so I looked away at the ground, playing with a loose thread on my shirt. She was analyzing me. I knew it. She was trying to find out what was going on in my mind.
Then she asked, “And you are saying you don’t remember any of these things you did?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a little, but it’s hard. It’s like I was a different person back then,” I answered.
“Back then? It was only yesterday that these things happened. It really isn’t that long ago.”
“Still,” I said. “It’s weird. It’s like a blackout or something.”
After that, there was a lot of talking. The others went home and I had to stay. She even got a psychologist to come, who talked to me for an hour.
It appeared that I was suffering from Multiple Personality Disorder, which is a condition in the brain that makes you think you’re someone else at different moments during the day.
“You see, Jerome,” the psychologist said. “Roy, Bob, Kevin, and Marshall
were personages in your mind that you made up. They are part of who you are, but they aren’t you.”
“But what can we do against this?” I asked. “It will happen again, won’t it?”
“Yes, but there is a cure,” the psychologist said. “This may sound a little crazy, but there is a sword, an enchanted, magical sword. It is made of gold. Don’t ask me where it came from or why it is where it is, but I heard that it heals any personality disorder if it gets touched by the person seeking to be healed.”
“Really?” I asked. “Where can I get that sword?”
“It’s in the Nether. It’s a dangerous place, but if you think it’s worth it, then you should consider going, especially since you’re a pigman.”
“What does that have to do with it?” I asked curiously.
“Pigman have certain powers. I don’t know exactly which, but it might be easier for you to withstand the lava and such.”
“Thanks. I’ll look into it,” I said confidently.
Entry 6: The Golden Sword
The Nether was a place nobody would ever go to. It had lava streams like hell fire, and it was called the Nether because it was literally underneath everything, in the planet’s core.
Ms. Barley was very concerned when the psychologist told me about the Nether, but I had decided to stop this personality disorder and get healed. I didn’t like doing things and then having a hard time remembering what I did. It was annoying. She might have been against it, but as stubborn as I was, I was up for an adventure.
When I prepared for my journey, I made sure I got a protective suit against the heat in the Nether.
However, when I arrived at the Nether, following the directions of the few who heard about it, I didn’t think it was that scary. It was beautiful. I loved the lava, I loved the fires, and what others would consider a dreadful place, was like home to me. Perhaps because I was a pigman and didn’t always feel at home between those villagers anyway. Who cares? I loved it, and I was going to get my golden sword.