Piggles Saves the World

Not again. Please not again.

The table had a small chip in the black formica allowing the cheap wood beneath to peek through. He tried to look away but his body betrayed him and was completely motionless. The table pressed hard against his forehead and stretched out into the dim darkness past that cursed chip, barely an inch from his unblinking eye. He hated this place. Familiar sounds and shadows of movement triggered the realization that the torturous session was about to start again. How long has it been? Days? No. Weeks. The accumulation of torment and humiliation had taken him past breaking point after breaking point long ago. He wanted to yell. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run. He did nothing. The chip stared back at him, mocking his inability to even blink.

Maybe I’m dead. Maybe I may as well be.

More movement and hushed voices. The tormentor’s hand quickly pulled up his head from the table and the chip seemed to wink at him as it spun out of his field of view. She shook him violently then slid him upright into position beside her and he could barely make out silhouettes of the dozens of strangers, opposite his position in the large, dark room. He stared blankly forward. All he could do was stare blankly forward. If his eyes could just make tears, their flowing torrent would flood the room with pleas of mercy. If only he could just make tears, his soul would flow away and seep into the cracks of the earth.

Please not again. Please let this stop. Please not again.

Despite his silent screams, despite his horror, it did not stop and the room answered his despair with a sudden explosion of light and screams. High and shrill, it was like a wall of force that smacked him violently in the face. Oh God, how he hated those screams!

“Hey kids, guess what time it is!” an amplified voice called from the speakers above.

“FARM TIME!!!” they screamed back at the announcer in unison.

“That’s right! …it’s time for Happy Friends Farm and here are your hosts: Farmer Becky and Piggles!!”More screams. If he could wince, he would.

“Hi kids! I’m Farmer Becky and this is my best friend Piggles!” the tormentor called out. She tilted his head to one side and waved one of his little hooves vigorously at the raucous crowd of children.

A pig.

I’m a pig.

Not even a real pig.

I’m just a stupid puppet.

“Hi, kids, and welcome to the show!! Oink! Oink! Oink!” happily exclaimed Piggles, but it wasn’t his voice.

You’re not fooling anyone, Becky. They can see your lips moving. You’re a fake and they all know it.

More screams. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout. He wanted them to tell the world that it’s on fire but as the show progressed on, they told the room and the cameras that they should all be good little boys and girls who brush their teeth and clean their plates. He wanted them to tell the world that the jungles were burning and the Middle East was erupting in violence but all he could do was listen to someone else’s words spill out of his mouth, instructing all the good little children to always obey their mommies and daddies. He wanted them to share information with the world that would inform and change lives, but Becky’s incompetence and shrill voice brought them here to “Happy Friends Farm,” where they could share the Earth-shattering news that the word apple starts with the letter A.

After the initial audience sing along, the show quickly progressed on to weird games with no losers, then to a pointless conversation with some poor sweaty guy in a really bad cow costume. Every scene was a elevated class on pain.

Oh no. Does that rooster have an accordion? Kill me. Kill me now.

Despite his silent pleas, the torture continued—but this time in song. He’d sung this one at least a dozen times and was convinced it had absolutely no point in it. Sure, those kids seem to enjoy singing and dancing along but the only spot Piggles looked forward to was the little unintentional innuendo that always made some of the adults smirk. Once all the flapping had ceased, a circle of children appeared on the floor primed to listen to Farmer Becky tell a story.

Riveting Becky. Absolutely riveting. The world now feels great relief that the baby duck found its way back to the nest.

The side stage lights dimmed and it was time to talk calmly to the children on stage as, one by one, they left the circle and sat beside Farmer Becky and Piggles where they answered questions like, “What’s your favorite animal?” and “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Things went tolerably well until an obviously mischievous little fellow blurted out, “You’re fat!!”

“Well I am a pig after all! Oink! Oink! Oink!” the voice of Piggles replied.

He’s not talking to me, Becky. He’s talking to the one that didn’t even make the cut for weather girl.

At long last the smallest of the children popped up excitedly off the stage floor, crossed the small distance in a dead sprint and dove onto the hay bale beside the farmer and her little pig. She was a cute little thing, perhaps four or five years old with the blondest of blond hair and straight bangs that appeared freshly and probably hurriedly chopped in. One of the little silver buckles on her scuffed patent leather shoes was chipped and her faded little dress was obviously but skillfully mended.

“Well hello, little girl! What’s your name?”

Piggles wasn’t sure whose mouth those words were coming out of anymore. He honestly didn’t care. What he did care about though was that smell. What was that smell? It assaulted the nose and was something like stale, musty cigarettes.

The little girl began excitedly rocking back and forth and with both hands partially covered her silent laughter, then suddenly without warning, the words began pouring out.

“My name is Sally Alice Roberts and omigosh I can’t believe I’m here! Because I love Happy Friends Farm. It’s my absolute favorite and I watch it every day because it’s my absolute favorite. And I never miss a show and I love ALL the animals. Waddles, Cluckers, Moozy and especially you, Piggles. And I always brush my teeth and listen to my Mommy and Daddy and I know all my ABCs. And I know a goose egg is bigger than a chicken egg but not as big as an ostrich egg and I know that cows make milk. Mommy brought me here because I love Happy Friends Farm and she says I’ve been very GOOD and Mommy- LOOK- I’m on THE FARM!”

The audience warmly laughed as Sally energetically waved towards the back rows. Mommy wasn’t hard to pick out; she was the only one here wearing sunglasses.

They laugh but can they not see something is not right here? This is familiar.

“Well, we’re sure glad you’re here with us today, Sally!” Becky exclaimed. “I think you just might be our biggest fan ever!”

That bruise isn’t from the playground! Why is no one doing anything? Can no one see this child?

Then suddenly, Sally did something that no other child had ever done before: she leaned over, wrapped her soft little arms tightly around Piggles’ fuzzy little body, closed her twinkling little eyes, squeezed her tiny pink lips into the tightest of puckers and gently landed a sweet little kiss on the side of his fuzzy pink snout and melted his little pig heart.

In unison, the audience burst out, “Awwwwww!” and when Sally leaned in for what Piggles was expecting to be a second kiss, she instead confirmed his fears when she whispered a secret into his little felt ear that no child should ever have to share.

She pulled back and looked at him with the kind of joyful eyes that only innocent childhood can muster.

“I love you, Piggles!”

This poor child. This poor, beautiful child.

Piggles leaned towards her, wrapped his little hooves around her little neck, gave her a gentle squeeze and pressed his little snout against her little cheek. Regardless of whether the effort was from his own arms or Becky’s fingers, Piggles gave Sally the hug that she desperately craved.

I love you too, Sally.

“I love you too, Sally!” was it his voice or the farmer’s? It didn’t matter; he didn’t care.

Then like a flash, it was there: Perhaps it will never be up to him and Becky to herald the calamities and shortcomings of this cruel world.

…but they could hug a child who desperately needed a hug. When your world is small, small things are big and something like a hug from a beloved little stuffed pig was a pretty big deal to Sally.

…and really, aren’t all of our worlds small?

Sally held her little hand to her little cheek and laughed as she was led away.

“Bye, Bye, Piggles!” she squealed through a huge smile as she laughed and went racing toward the audience. “Mommy! Piggles gave me a pig kiss!!”

Goodbye, Sally. Thank you.

“Bye, Bye, Sally!” Farmer Becky and Piggles waved at the retreating little girl.

The center stage lights began to dim even more and Becky stepped forward with Piggles and began the epilogue but he really wasn’t paying attention. There was some automated talk about suns setting and cows coming home or something. Half of it was coming out of his mouth but he didn’t care. Whatever. Piggles was wrestling with new thoughts and completely oblivious that the show ended and the torture ceased.

“Well, that sure was something, wasn’t it?” asked Becky as she swung Piggles around to face her.

And then, very suddenly he saw her.

For the first in perhaps a long time, he genuinely and honestly and sincerely saw her.

…and his heart melted when he fell into those big round eyes that were glistening from fighting back tears of anger and heartbreak.

You’re a beautiful person, Becky. You’re doing a good thing here and I have been so hard on you..

…those big round, caring and compassionate eyes freshly alight with purpose and determination.

You’re a beautiful person and I’m so very proud of you.

So, there they stood, woman and pig, deeply lost in each other’s eyes, processing the answer to questions that they’d never even really worked out how to ask.

Becky? I think this is where we need to be.

She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled before once again returning his gaze.

“You’re absolutely right Piggles; this is where we are and this is exactly where we need to be.”

And Sally?

Becky gave Piggles a quick kiss of her own and laid him gently back on the table.

“Take a break, little pig. I need to go make a call.”

Piggles stared at the table exhausted and felt like the little happy pig smile on his face was for once genuinely his own. Slowly, sleep began creeping in amidst thoughts of the letter B and hopes for another hug tomorrow.

Hey chip—you know what?

Things are gonna be ok.