Here’s one more story that I wrote and then I’ll go back to posting normal stuff…Hope you like it!
The news van jolted down the dusty country road. Each time we nailed a pot hole the three of us sitting in the back all bounced off the cushions about a foot. It was Larry the camera guy, Doris the producer, and me. I’m JC. My real name is Jacquilyn Clementine. So you can see why I’m called JC. I learned my first day of middle school that boys are never named Jacquilyn, or for that matter Clementine. But anyway, I’m a news reporter for channel 24 based out of Soddy Daisy, TN. I normally report about the weather or the local restaurant review or basically anything else that goes on in this small town. But today we have a special assignment. There have been some suspicious sightings and even deaths in one particular part of our town. I was psyched. I mean stuff like this doesn’t happen every day in our postage stamp size town. This kind of story could mean huge things for my career!
I was yanked out of my daze as our van screeched to a stop. As I slung open the van door I began to hear this odd and kind of obnoxious squealing noise. Then I looked down into the eyes of the tallest and fattest pig I had ever seen in my life. I gulped and tried to refrain from peeing in my pants. Whatever miss-breed it was, it apparently could stare into your soul because he was doing just that. Farmer John suddenly walked up and yanked the pig away from our van so we could all climb out. I quickly jumped out and sort of flattened myself against the van. When John saw me trying to blend in with the huge 24 painted on the van he burst into guffaws and said in a thick country accent, “Now, boy, don’t you be a worryin! This ol’ boy won’t hurt you! Naw not at all!” I beg to differ.
Doris then stepped up and started asking him about what suspicious things he had seen of late. Apparently he’d heard some freaky noises at night. When we asked what made them freaky, he replied, “Welp have you ever heard the dyin’ screams of the wounded? Welp, that jus’ about describes it.” He went on to say that he had missed some crops and tools and things, and then he said, “I was here one day and I found this right here.” What I saw made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. He had walked over to a huge indention in the dirt. The indention was the perfect outline of a human body and some odd foot prints; to be honest they looked sort of like a large…hoof. Farmer John confirmed my suspicions. “Yep, I declare that’s a pig print, and I do believe that it’s from Bertha.” “B-b-bertha?” I stuttered out. Somehow I knew that a pig named Bertha could only mean trouble. “Yep come on, I’ll show ya.”
John lead us over to an enclosed pen. He lifted the latch to open the door. I heard some kind of knocking noise. I looked down and discovered it was my knees. We all walked into a dark room with a dirt floor. The light streaming from the cracks in between the planks of the walls cast eerie shafts of light across the floor. I took one step forward and squished into a pig pie the size of my head. Great. Just what I wanted to have on my shoe for the rest of my time here on earth. I knew that no matter how hard I scrubbed I would feel the poo squishing every time I wore these shoes. I looked up to see everybody way ahead of me. Dodging more pies, I quickly ran to catch up. When we got to the end of the pen we came across another indention. It was the size of a rhinoceros. Seriously, it was HUGE! I figured ol’ Bertha used some kind of steroids. After we had inspected the lair of the beast a bit more, Doris sent Larry and me to get a couple shots out by the first indention. We walked back out, and I swear I hit three more pies. When we arrived at the indention we started setting up. Larry said he had forgotten his film so he ran to the van to get it, leaving me alone. I started walking around doing the awkward tin soldier walk to get the poo off my feet.
Then I heard it. A low guttural snort. I turned and saw…Bertha. She started snorting nonstop and drooling. Her front foot started pawing the ground like a bull, and she started forward. I promptly peed my pants. I started walking backwards, but I tripped over something, and all of a sudden I found myself laying in the indention. It fit me perfectly. I saw Bertha charging. Then she took a flying leap. Before she impaled me into the ground, I passed out.
I was jolted awake when we slammed to a stop. I found myself back in the news van. I almost cried. It had all been a dream! I was not about to become a greasy spot under Bertha’s rear end. I slung the door open happily and stared into the eyes of Bertha, she uttered a low snort.
Well there you have it! Have a good day!