“I’ve seen some things down there ove the years, but honestly? Nothing like this. The summer before last it was, and of course I’d heard the rumours: everyone has. But I dismissed it as foolish kids, or maybe some clever tourist marketing ploy. But, there we were, just casting off, when I heard this tiny voice.”
They had heard so many tall tales before, so many of his tall tales, that the could barely be bothered to interject, but she could not resist this one.
“Small?” she said eyes wide, “a tiny voice?”
“Well, low, you know?” He hesistantingly replied. “Not tiny, as such, just a figure of speech. Anyway the sun was beating down, we were looking forward to a day on the water, and again this voice. A gruff voice.”
Can a voice be both gruff and tiny she wondered. She switched off and let him drone on.
“I looked around, and guess what it was, standing there, as real as you and talking to me? Have a guess, you’ll never ever guess.”
How could he think no one could guess? Here of all places?
“Tell me, I hate guessing games.”
“No, go on, just three guesses, and the next round is on me if you get it!”
“Ok, ok. Was it … um ….. was it a pig at all?” she stuttered, innocently
His face fell and he looked from one to another, crestfallen.
“Well yes, but how? But, how could you guess?”
“They escape from the farm, didn’t you know. Very friendly, but a little shy. They just want to sail. Is that such a ludicrous request? Seriously? I hope you didn’t just stare? I hope you took them out?”
“Well, er, well, no.” he spluttered, his fat pink cheeks wobbling side to side, “I mean, well, its my boat, isn’t it?”. He looked down at his groaning plate and began to eat, self-satisfied noises making the others long for the tranquillity and culture of a porcine companion instead of this over-fed selfish bore.