The Turtle and the Pig

A story by Nora Neumann

It was one of those nights. The street was quiet as ever; hardly anyone ever walked by, except a few people on their way to the beach. But then the cars started to arrive. The first one let out four people, all in fancy evening dresses, two ladies and two men. Then one by one, more cars arrived, spitting out more and more people, most of them in couples. They walked up the short driveway, chatted with other people already standing in front of the house and then made their way inside the house. Walking up the three steps up to the front door, they had to watch out for two small ceramic figures placed on the stairs, right next to the wall.

Finally everyone had arrived, and people had all gone inside the house. A rather sophisticated noise made its way outside; cheerful voices, low voices told little funny stories, then high, pitchy laughs commented on them. As the night went on, the door would open every now and then, and people would step outside and have a smoke. They would come in groups of four or five and bring their beers and wine. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the party at the house at the corner. Around two o’clock in the morning, people started to leave again. They would once again chat a little before they would make their way to the car. The last ones to leave were the best friend of the owner of the house and his wife. The owner of the house and his wife accompanied their friends to the car. The best friend realized he was holding a beer bottle in his hands; it was almost finished, not quite, but it had gone warm and he put the bottle down on the stairs. “Yeah, just leave that there, I’ll pick them all up in the morning”, his friend said and they walked to the car.

The sun was up early, it was a cold morning, but the steps were warmed by the sun. “Man, boring as ever.” Pig had not quite enjoyed the party. “What do I see? Is that a beer right there by your leg?” “Yes, I can smell beer, there is some left in the bottle.” “Pass it over, will you, mate”, Pig said. Turtle shovelled over the bottle. “But you’re not gonna drink it all, are you?” “Sure I am”, Pig replied, “I’ve been waiting for this day all my crusty little life with these people”. “Don’t say that”, turtle said, “they’ve been good to us”. “They’ve treated us like some fricking statue, man. Every time they walk past us I’m waiting for them to say something, whatever, the good old ‘how are you this morning?’ or even ‘poor thing, is that bird shit on your back?’. But they don’t see us anymore. They think you just get a turtle and a pig from the Warehouse, put them on the steps and that’s it. That’s not how it works, we need entertainment too.” Turtle did not answer. He knew Pig was right; they hardly ever even looked at them.

Pig had finished the beer. It had taken him a while, as he was only a small pig, not young, but small in size. “That’s it, I’m going in”, he said and hopped up a step. Turtle stared at him. “You’re doing what?” “I’m going inside, see what it’s like in there” he said and hopped up the last step. Turtle hurried after him. At least he tried, as it was only early and he had not yet recharged his turtle battery. However, getting inside was not as easy as Pig had thought anyway. He had to wait for Turtle to climb up the last of the steps. Then he stepped on his back and reached up to the door knob. He managed to open the door. They went inside.

They stood in the hallway, bathroom to the left, laundry to the right. They made their way towards the lounge, Pig’s feet making little clicking sounds as they walked over the tiled floor. They entered the lounge, finding an open kitchen to the right in the back. Big windows allowed a good view into the garden. They stopped in front of a sheepskin-like carpet with a white coffee table on it, which was surrounded by three armchairs and a couch. “That’s the place, is it?” Pig said, looking around. Turtle looked around the room too, then the kitchen caught his attention. “The kitchen is nice and sunny. I would be heated up and ready to go in the morning in no time.” Pig didn’t listen. He was sniffing and walking towards the coffee table. He put his front legs on the table then jumped up. “What is it,” Turtle was keen to know, “what did you find?” He could see Pig was chewing something. “Hmm… yum”, was all the answer Turtle received. Pig had a far away look on his face; he was breathing soundly as he kept on munching whatever it was he had found on the table.

12 minutes later, Pig was spread out on the couch, resting his head on a pillow. Turtle hadn’t bothered to climb up the couch and had stayed on the carpet. He had produced a chocolate mess on the fluffy white carpet.

“I could have been a truffle pig in another life, searching for truffles in the forest”, Pig sighed.

“Who puts those chocolate truffles in the ground for you to find them?”

“The stuff we are supposed to find in the forest is not chocolate, it just has the same name”.

“Ah, I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, I s’ppose you guys learn other stuff at the Warehouse. What did you turtles do at night?”

“We couldn’t really do anything after the lights went out, the energy we got from that artificial light was just enough to keep our eyes open during the day and put on the smile.”

“You definitely wanna put on your smile. Or no one ever takes you home.” They both had met some grumpy fellows at the Warehouse. Having been there for so long had only made them grumpier, but everyone knew that was not the way to get bought.

“We once had this huge water turtle there. He was always horny; I don’t know where he got the energy from. Even at night he would jump on everything that only resembled a turtle.” “Even the guys?” Pig wondered.

“It didn’t make a difference to him. We all got sick of him. So one day when no one was looking, we pushed him off the shelf and then hurried back in position. It was pretty quiet after that”.

By now, the sun was starting to fall on the sundeck. It also shed its light on a well kept herbal garden. Parsley, rosemary and thyme, of course, as well as chives and some edible flowers were flourishing. Now it was Turtle’s turn to get excited. Slowly he set himself into motion. Left foot, right foot, he slid off the carpet then walked towards the glass door. He pushed his head through the opening that had once been designed to allow a cat to roam freely but had been out of use for some time. It squeaked a little but then let Turtle slip through. On the other side, he landed on the wooden sundeck. Pig yawned. What was that Turtle up to, he wondered. He was too tired to bother though. Eventually Pig dozed off.

When he woke up, he saw Turtle racing around the herbal garden at a pace not quite expected of him. Pig stood up on the couch to get a better look at his friend in the garden. Turtle had created a race course by now, as he was going round in circles, flattening all green in his way. Wow! Pig had never seen his friend like this, going berserk! They should do this more often, he thought. While he watched his friend enjoying himself, he could feel anger rising in him. He was angry about the way they were treated in this place, acknowledged only as a piece of furniture. He could feel something else coming up too. He needed to pee. For a moment he thought of pushing himself through the cat opening to join his friend and relieve himself in the garden. But then he had an idea far better than that. It put a wide grin on his pig face. He jumped off the couch and turned towards the kitchen. Taking a newspaper shelf as first step he then heaved himself up the kitchen bench. Again, his feet made clicking sounds as he walked over the plastic surface. There was a shiny silver jug of the old-fashioned kind in the corner next to the stove. Pig carefully lifted the lid, grabbing it with his teeth, and put it down. He then sat down on the jug and peed in it. He had to laugh while he did it. Afterwards, he felt relieved in multiple ways; he simply felt good. He jumped off the kitchen bench and on the newspaper shelf and on the ground again.

Turtle was still racing around the garden, so Pig went outside. “Hey, how’s it going?” he yelled over to Turtle. “Never felt better in my life” Turtle replied catching his breath. He walked up to Pig. “Hey mate, I’ve been thinking maybe we should head off now”, Pig said. “Head off? What do you mean? We’re not just gonna go back and sit on the steps again?” That was what Turtle had assumed they were going to do at the end of their little excursion inside. “No, man, look at what we did to the place! You just about turned this garden into a fricking desert, and the carpet looks like we threw up chocolate on it. Besides, I pissed in the jug.” “So we’re not just going back to sit on the steps?” “No turtle! We’re outlaws now! This place is in a mess, and they’re gonna know it was us right away!” “Yeah?” Turtle looked at Pig. Turtle wasn’t the smartest, but his way of asking questions always made Pig think about things twice. It occurred to him that finding their house in such a mess, the owners of the house maybe, after all, wouldn’t suspect their outdoor ceramic figures right away. He could feel his excitement lifting. He felt disappointed. “Let’s go back and take up our positions”, he said, and he and Turtle made their way through the cat door, crossed the lounge, tapped down the hallway and went through the front door. Turtle took up his position. Pig shut the door.