This pig isn’t going to be slaughtered by Farmer Chuckins.
This pig has a plan.
And it involves the New Year’s countdown and a rocket ship.
During the last stream, the Wheel of Prompticality landed on “subscriber’s choice.” That meant we picked a random subscriber and had to write whatever story they chose.
Viewer MookieMC won the raffle, and chose for us to do an image prompt. So it was back to the polls to vote on a bunch of great images from chat, though in the end it was this one by viewer Yosh1taliz that emerged victorious:
Looking back, how was it not obvious that a pig riding a golden rocket was going to win?
And since it was New Year’s day, we decided to put a twist on it: we had to write the story to have something to do with New Year’s.
As always, chat was on fire with great suggestions. The only hard part was narrowing down the awesome ideas.
Scroll down to read our story below, or watch the
process here with all of Abbey’s terrible bloopers.
Here’s what we came up with:
With Farmer Chuckins and his family indoors watching the New Year’s ball drop, Reginald the pig began to enact his plan for escape. He’d been planning for over a year now, ever since his parents had been taken away and never returned. Unlike the other pigs who were content to eat slop, roll in poo, and sleep their short lives away, Reginald spent his time observing.
And exactly one year ago, he observed a way out.
Last year, Reginald had been caught off guard with this sudden information. But now a year later, which he knew thanks to the Studs N’ Spuds calendar hanging by the tack room, he was prepared to use it to his advantage.
While all of the other pigs were snoring mud bubbles in the slop, Reginald tip-trotted his way to the barn door, and nudged it open with his snout. The rusty hinges gave a small squeak, but Reginald was careful not to make too much noise. Yet.
With the light of the moon to guide him, Reginald click-clacked his hooves around to the overgrown back of the barn, and bit down hard on what he was looking for. With a few silent tugs, he brought out his project from the last year, and stood on all fours, admiring his own craftsmanship.
It was a beautiful space rocket.
Reginald had constructed the rocket out of scraps of the tin roof that fell during rainstorms, and bits of wooden troughs that he could break off without noticing. Dried, hardened cow dung and the twine from hay bales kept it all intact, including the pig-manure-and-moonshine fuel that was loaded inside. A fuse braided from hay and doused in kerosene from old man Chuckin’s lamp trailed out the back, ready to be lit.
Now, all Reginald needed was a spark. He coughed and hacked up the cigarette he’d swallowed from earlier today when Farmer Chuckins had discarded it on the ground. It was unpleasant to keep inside his mouth all day, but if it meant freedom, then it was well worth it.
Reginald held the cigarette up to the edge of the fuse, ready to run over to the rocket and latch onto it as soon as it took fire… but nothing happened. Reginald didn’t understand. He’d observed Farmer Chuckins simply breathe fire into the cigarette so many times. Did he miss something?
Desperate, Reginald tried blowing on it, but nothing happened. The fuse stayed greasy and unlit.
Then, something even worse happened.
A gruff snort came from behind Reginald. Slowly he turned around and faced Farmer Chuckin’s dog: Fred the Border Collie. Twice Reginald’s size, the dog glared at him, making his piggy heart squeal in fear.
“Fred!” Reginald cried out. “I… I can explain. This isn’t what it looks like, I swear!”
Fred walked up to Reginald, spilling jowl juice, and gave the pig such a good, hearty sniff that his warm breath crawled all over the pig’s skin. Reginald couldn’t move, all he could do was tremble. Despite all his careful planning and observations, he was just going to end up being torn to bacon bits by Fred!
Fred opened his mouth, showed off his sharp teeth, and…
“Smells like you got some real nice fuel in there, Reginald,” Fred barked softly. “That thing should take you real far, but you need a light first. Here, use this.”
Fred coughed and hacked and spat out a slimy ball that, at the center, had a plastic device that Reginald had never seen before.
“What is this?” Reginald asked, still not quite sure why he was alive.
“It’s Farmer Chuckin’s lighter,” Fred said. “He uses it to set fire to those nasty sticks in his mouth. And now I can light your way out of here! Grab onto the rocket, friend, and godspeed!”
Reginald nodded, turned to the rocket, and climbed aboard piggy-back style. Dangling from the pointed tip of the rocket was a small child’s horseback riding helmet and goggles. Reginald swiped it, strapped it on his chinny chin chin, and gave the hooves-up signal to Fred.
Fred pushed the lighter to the end of the fuse, and both animals looked back toward the farm house. A loud sound was coming from indoors. It sounded like the whole family counting down from ten, just like Reginald had heard them do last year.
And just like how he knew they would do again this year, loud enough to cover the sound of his rocket escaping.
“Do it, Fred!” Reginald honked as the family counted to five.
Fred nodded and clicked the lighter, sending the fuse aflame as they counted to four.
The fire snaked its way up the fuse as they hit three, and as they counted to two, Reginald closed his piggy eyes and thought about what he would do with his life from here on. At one, he felt the heat of the fuel ignite behind him. Then, at “Happy New Year,” an explosion of dust and flame blasted him into the air.
All over town, people gazed up at the sky as they banged pots and pans and yelled cheers to welcome in the New Year, watching the fireworks go off in the sky. And some lucky folks got to see a very special firework that night, one that would never be seen again. Those who did see it said that it made them think of freedom, and fresh starts… and bacon.
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you. We stream on Twitch every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday at 7:30pm-11:30pm (U.S. Eastern Standard Time).
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel, or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
Scott Wilson is the author of the novel Metl: The ANGEL Weapon,
forthcoming March 2019.