To Be or Not To Be
Cute pigs ahead.
“England.”
“Yes?”
“…What is that thing?”
England smiled brightly-a smile that America recognized as the one he typically shared with his imaginary friends-and held up the little thing, its head resting in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.
“Are you blind, America? It’s a pig.”
“That thing?”
“Yes!” England laughed a bit, as the thing made a little noise and resettled itself in his palm. “Some bloke has been selling them for pets. Isn’t it cute?”
America walked closer, lifting Texas off his face as if the glass was somehow distorting reality into the odd image that he was seeing.
“I guess so. But it’s a pig. Isn’t it… like, dirty, and stuff?”
“No, you idiot. Pigs don’t all live in mud holes, contrary to popular belief. It’s actually very clean.”
America reached out to touch its head with his finger. “It is kind of cute,” he admitted. “Is it yours?”
“Oh, goodness, no. I’m just watching it for a while.”
“What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t have one, I suppose,” England said, setting his hand in his lap, where the little pig squirmed.
“Hamlet.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Hamlet,” America repeated, sitting next to England and peering down at the pig. “I think that should be his name.”
“Hamlet? Seems a bit cruel, don’t you think?”
“What’s wrong with it? Ham is yummy.”
“Would you name a cow Cheeseburger?”
“…Maybe.”
In England’s lap, Hamlet squealed.
-------------------------
Okay, so this was just an excuse to write about Pocket Pigs.
A gentleman in England has successfully bred a class of miniature pigs, no bigger than a teacup, and they are now being called the newest, most popular household pet. They are extremely cute, and apparently easy to house train. They are also clean, and very intelligent, and they live up to 14 years.
They don't grow much bigger than this.
Can you not see England owning one of these? I certainly can.
I really, really want one.
“England.”
“Yes?”
“…What is that thing?”
England smiled brightly-a smile that America recognized as the one he typically shared with his imaginary friends-and held up the little thing, its head resting in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.
“Are you blind, America? It’s a pig.”
“That thing?”
“Yes!” England laughed a bit, as the thing made a little noise and resettled itself in his palm. “Some bloke has been selling them for pets. Isn’t it cute?”
America walked closer, lifting Texas off his face as if the glass was somehow distorting reality into the odd image that he was seeing.
“I guess so. But it’s a pig. Isn’t it… like, dirty, and stuff?”
“No, you idiot. Pigs don’t all live in mud holes, contrary to popular belief. It’s actually very clean.”
America reached out to touch its head with his finger. “It is kind of cute,” he admitted. “Is it yours?”
“Oh, goodness, no. I’m just watching it for a while.”
“What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t have one, I suppose,” England said, setting his hand in his lap, where the little pig squirmed.
“Hamlet.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Hamlet,” America repeated, sitting next to England and peering down at the pig. “I think that should be his name.”
“Hamlet? Seems a bit cruel, don’t you think?”
“What’s wrong with it? Ham is yummy.”
“Would you name a cow Cheeseburger?”
“…Maybe.”
In England’s lap, Hamlet squealed.
-------------------------
Okay, so this was just an excuse to write about Pocket Pigs.
A gentleman in England has successfully bred a class of miniature pigs, no bigger than a teacup, and they are now being called the newest, most popular household pet. They are extremely cute, and apparently easy to house train. They are also clean, and very intelligent, and they live up to 14 years.
They don't grow much bigger than this.
Can you not see England owning one of these? I certainly can.
I really, really want one.