(A Continuing Tale of Vanity and Revenge. See here for Part 1.)
The following is a true story. The names have not been changed because no one was innocent.
What’s a “whistle pig” you say?
It’s nothing but a sobriquet,
Unending appetite on legs,
That always steals and never begs.
Part 2. Crime and Punishment
“Do not be quickly provoked in your spirit, for anger resides in the lap of fools.”Ecclesiastes Chapter 7, verse 9
At first it was that all was well, my crops were green and glowing. But then misfortune touched my dell, suspicion started growing. A sunflower with broken stalk, would never see fruition. If only broken stalks could talk, alas, they've no cognition. Yet soon my produce was producing tomatoes, so appealing! But with some missing, was deducing - A thief was busy stealing! Colombo, Sherlock, and Poirot had taught me speculation. It didn't take me long to know who did the peculation. A hungry beast with tooth and claw, and pow'rs of excavation, Had breached my fence to fill his maw, and cause me aggravation. I tracked him to his earthen lair, a bunker underneath the ground. The smell down there, it curled my hair, my enemy was not around. And now, alas, I'd no defense to foil my foe's forays. My fence? A vain pretense against his dig and delving ways. Discomfited, I stood and frowned, while stoking on my chin, And somewhere underneath the ground, I swear I heard him grin.
My anger hardened to resolve, I gathered rock and stone. With this my problem would be solved, he'd leave my yard alone! I filled the holes beneath my fence, and with each stone I laid, I felt an ever surer sense that now he would be stayed. When satisfied the job was done, my sleep that night was restful. But morning's light revealed a fright - a sight that was quite stressful. My enemy had breached my henge and had an early breakfast. And so I swore I'd get revenge, my anger was a tempest! But after I had cooled a while, I spent some time reflecting. He's just a hungry animal, and what was I expecting? There was too much to eat, you see, so I could spare a little. Then it became a game with me, to keep it to a tittle. Each hole he dug I filled with stone, and took some satisfaction. He'd have to work for what I'd sown, and earn my benefaction.
But then there came the fateful day, I spied him at his poaching. I snuck up slow, he didn't know that danger was approaching. Then, suddenly a sprint began - intent to cause him strife, And then he saw me, turned and ran, as running for his life! I overtook him near afield, and yelled my bitter rage at him, Right terrified, he shrieked and squealed, his situation clearly grim. My pity grew with ev'ry squeal, and so I quit my childish chase, But then he struck my fence of steel, he hit it with his little face. It seems my stones were in the way, he couldn’t find his entry spot, Still panic-stricken, struck again, before he found the place he sought. My stomach sank, I felt ashamed, for causing him such awful grief, And in the end what had I gained? A fool's revenge, but no relief. At least my garden was reclaimed, and now, at last, one thing I knew. My nemesis was surely tamed, his days of filtching food were through.
But the thing about a whistle pig? Their little brain's not very big… (to be continued)
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