Once upon a time, in a land far, far away,
there was a magical pig named Horace.
(Well, whether he really was magical is debatable -
but at least he used to smoke some funny weed
that made him think he was.)
Horace lived in an agricultural collective run
by the senior member of the McDonald Clan.
One day, Horace was writing a treatise on quantum mechanics,
when the Lumsden MacDonald rode up to him on a horse.
"So, pig, writing another big thick square book, eh?"
"Scribble, scribble scribble, that's all you're good
for!"
"Pardonez-moi," replied Horace, "Je pense que
vous etes malheureux."
"Bloody pig and your bloody foreign languages," replied
MacDonald,
"I'm going to slash your neck with my chainsaw and dice you
up!"
Horace decided that this would not be A Good Thing.
So, he cast a magic spell, and MacDonald was transformed
into an itinerant philanthropist who never came near the
collective again.
It started to rain. Horace and the other animals couldn't get
into
the farmhouse because it was locked, and MacDonald had the only key.
Horace was then struck by three simultaneous bolts of lightning
and fried to a smoky bacon crisp.
The moral on the
story:
Better to put up with a Scottsman on a Horse than to get hit by
lightning.
©2001 Tim Ward
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