A Pig in Time

Old Mr. Henry has been up to his mischief making lately. One of that man’s favorite things to do is pick on people that aren’t from around here. If Mr. Henry can find himself a target, the game is on. That’s precisely what happened last week when that tourist came through town.

Old Man Henry was about to feed his pigs when he noticed the strange car parked on the side of the road near his house. The windows of the vehicle were down and Mr. Henry could make out a man inside looking at a map as if he was lost. It was as far as Mr. Henry could figure, a perfect setup. Mr. Henry made a little noise to draw attention to himself and then he started lifting his piglets up one by one and letting them eat apples off of the apple tree. He’d move that pig from apple to apple until the pig was satisfied. Then, he’d set him down, pick up another piglet and start all over.

Mr. Henry could feel the fellow studying him without even looking back in the car’s direction. The man sat there for a while, taking it all it. Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer. He walked up to the fence, and spoke. “Hello, mister.”

“Evening,” Mr. Henry said.

The man hesitated before continuing, “I was wondering if I might give you some advice.”

Mr. Henry frowned at him. “I reckon so,” he said, after an uncomfortable pause.

The stranger cleared his throat. “I was just going to say, sir, that you could save a lot of time if you simply shook those apples off the tree and let your pigs eat ‘em off the ground.”

Old Man Henry looked at the guy and nodded, barely able to contain a smile. “Well, now,” he said. “That may be true. But what is time to a pig?”

Hugs,
Shellie