Children's Books & Writing Stories Once upon a time...  Children's Books & Writing Stories Once upon a time...


Children's story - Jason Pig Finds A Home

POST 047



PART 1 of  4


The Pig Wants A Home


Hi, I'm Jason the Pig


As you can see I'm no ordinary pig. I’ve even wrote this book.


Long ago when I was a baby piglet Mrs Plumpkin came to our farm.


"My husband has just died." She told Farmer Seemore. "I need to buy one of your best dogs to talk to and keep me company."


As she walked across the farmyard I snorted around her ankles. It makes ladies scream and dance. But she stayed calm.


"I'll have that one." She said looking down at me.


"You can't, its not a dog." Said Farmer Seemore


"I can and I will." Said Mrs Plumpkin. She is very assertive like that. "His eyes, snout and whiskers remind me of my late, dead husband, Eric."


So I moved in with Mrs Plumpkin.


I lay on the hearth rug in front of an open fire and watched soaps on TV. At night I slept in my own four poster bed under a huge duck feather duvet.


"Just like a little kitten." Smiled Mrs Plumpkin "Only bigger and noisier."


Then, one day, without warning, Mrs Plumpkin died.  She just popped her cloggs. Don't know why, she just did.


I went three days without food. I was so hungry. More hungry than if you had not eaten breakfast. Forgotten to eat lunch. Then gone to bed without  eating for three days. Can you imagine? But even worse without TV, until Farmer Seemore visited.


He came into the kitchen with another man who wore tatty clothes and smelled horrible.

He kicked his wellingtons against my floral decorated blue trough and bits of mud fell to the floor. Tufts of red greasy hair stuck through the holes in the dirty Beanni hat perched on his head.


"He won't need that fancy trough where he's going. I said, he won't need that fancy trough where he's going." Mr Trotter said.


"Come along Trotts let's find Jason's scarf and hat." Said Farmer Seemore.  "He won't go anywhere without his red and white United  scarf and hat."


"A scarf and hat on my pig farm!" spluttered Mr Trotter wiping the back of his hand roughly across his nose. He flicked the droplets to the floor. His smell was stronger than ever, of pigs. Pooh! Not beautiful of soap and aftershave like me.


Once outside Mr Trotter tried to get me to go in the back of his muddy, rusty, straw covered Land Rover. No way!


"I'm afraid, Trotts that you'll have to let him sit in the passenger seat, like he used to do in Mrs Plumpkin Morris Minor car."


Mr Trotter grumbled but in the end he helped Farmer Seemore lift me into the passenger seat.  I loved sitting there. Passers-by smiled and waved at me, others just stared, amazed.


I was all excited and looking forward to my new home. New soaps on TV, a new rug to lie on and best of all I expected a United duvet.


Mr Trotter drove his Land Rover to his field gate. He gave a huge rattling cough, helped me down from the passenger seat and took off my scarf and hat. Next, he pushed me through the gate.


Pigs came running from every direction, through the mud, from small metal stys. I looked down my snout at these pigs. They were smelly and dirty, the type that gave pigs a bad name. I was eager to get into my new house away from all this mess.


“There we are, Jason Piglet.” Said Mr Trotter, “Your new home. I said, your new home.”


I was not happy!


I poked my nose into every corner of the tin can sty. There was no TV or bed. The floor was mud and straw.


The other pigs gathered round me. They grunted pig language which I did not understand.  I had been around humans too long. They did not like me, either. They hated my smell. But I hated theirs more. They kept pushing me with their rough snouts. So I went and hid in my sty.


I wanted to be back on the hearth in Mrs Plumpkin's house. Huge pear drop tears began to fall and I cried myself to sleep.


A loud crash awoke me


POST 057



PART 2 of  4


The Pig Still Wants A Home


Yes, if you remember, a loud crash awoke me. A flash lit everything up. Another rumble followed. Boy, was I scared. I ran out of the sty. Outside was pitch black, dark night. Raindrops thumped on my back washing me. The thunder crashed again. I ran towards the gate to get away, but it was firmly closed. The rain was turning the ground into sludge which splashed all over me. I hated being dirty.


I prodded the gate, again, but it would not budge. I lay, sadly by the stone wall. The thunder crashed and the lightning lit up the sky. Where was my own four poster bed?


As night turned to day the storm abated. The birds began to sing and the sun peeped out. But I was too sad to do anything.


A chugging tractor engine disturbed me, stopping at the gate. Mr Trotter climbed down and used a rusty key on the lock. The smell of new, clean straw, hay and food tickled my snout.


But although hungry I knew I had to take my chance. When Mr Trotter opened that gate I ran as fast as I could through his legs, and away up the road.


I ran and ran as fast as my little trotters would carry me. I never looked back. I did not have a clue where I was going.


“Stop pig! Come back! I said, come back!” Mr Trotter shouted, forcing me to run even faster.


 The postman was cycling towards me. I went to the right to miss him. He  went the same way. His bike hit me and fell on top of me. The postman was catapulted through the air. What a tangled mess.


But I soon untangled myself and was running again.


At the village cross roads I spied a cottage door open. Rushing through it I searched around for a room with a bed. There was a smell of beeswax. A cuckoo clock scared me as it cuckooed nine o'clock. Or was it a guard cuckoo warning of an intruder?


My titchy legs struggled to climb the steep stairs. My huge pot belly scrapped on the stair carpet. But the thought of a comfy bed drove me on.


There was the comfy smell of beds everywhere.  Pushing my snout around the first bedroom door I spied a bed in front of me. Rolling under the pale blue duvet I was so tired I went soundly asleep, but for how long, I do not know.


To my horror I awoke to witness deep red, thickly coated lips approaching me and giving me a huge sloppy kiss on my cheek. The vicar's wife had not realised he was out walking. She had brought him his morning cup of tea to bed but forgotten her spectacles and mistaken me for the vicar.


I jumped from the bed and through the open window. Fortunately the vicar was just returning and I landed on him, flattening him but it broke my fall.


As I raced through the streets again there were people, pushchairs and legs to dodge. Glancing behind me I was dismayed to see a Beanni hatted Mr Trotter running after me again!


Where to hide? I looked around desperately.


POST 076



PART 3 of  4


The Pig's Search For A Home Continues

Where to hide? I looked around desperately.


A piano sound came from behind a huge green door which made me feel all relaxed. Easing the door open I trotted inside.


There was a room with a jumble of hats and coats lining the wall. I could hear the velvet tones of a teacher reading a story, just like Mrs Plumpkin used to read to me every night. I realised it was a school. and I sneaked inside the classroom. About thirty children sat cross legged on a carpet, so interested in the story they did not notice me.


But then Mrs Actionpants, the teacher peeked over the top of her book and saw me.


"Now children, I want you to quietly stand up and move slowly to the back of the classroom. There is a pig in class and I don't know whether it is dangerous or not." She said calmly.


I looked around. Did she mean me? I was the only pig in the room. Of course I'm not dangerous. I am Jason.


The children began to move, some screaming with laughter others with fear.


"Danny Ball, go and fetch Mrs Bumblebum, the headmistress and Mr Grumbles, the caretaker, please. And don't run in the corridor!"


"Yes Miss." Answered Danny and he stroked my head as he past me.


In no time at all a stern looking, bespectacled female headmistress clomped into the room. A plump, balding grey haired man shuffled behind her.


"Why that's poor Mrs Plumpkins' Jason." Said Mr Grumbles. "He should be at Trotter's Pig Farm."


As soon as I heard this I panicked and ran to the group of children. There was no way I was returning there.


“Can’t we keep him?” asked Danny Ball “He could be the mascot for the football team. Chutneytown Squash School have a dog, but a pig would be so cool.”


“Certainly not” snapped Mrs Bumblebum. “ Grumbles! Get that pig out of here at once.”


Mr Grumbles grabbed my collar and did as he was ordered, taking me to the school wendy house to await Trotters' collection.


The children followed and watched as I lay on the little bed in the wendy house. How comfortable. There was no way I was going back to the tin sty..


 “Look how happy Jason is!” cried Danny Ball, peering through the wendy house window.


“The children really love him” said Mrs Actionpants.


“I know”, Mr Grumbles nodded “And old Mr Trotter reckons his farm’s not suitable for Jason. He needs a proper home. You know, I could build an extension on that wendy house. The children could look after him”


“What a great idea!” exclaimed Mrs Actionpants, “but we’ll have to persuade Mrs Bumblebum”


They stood in silence for a few moments, watching the excited children until Mrs Actionpants spoke. “I may have an idea…”


Later I  was dozing in the comfy wendy house bed. I did not realise but Mrs Bumblebum was also dozing in her comfy desk chair. We were both awoken by loud chanting.


“We want Jason! Let Jason stay! Give the pig a home!”


Mrs Bumblebum rushed outside to silence the noisy children but Mrs Actionpants and Mr Grumbles were waiting for her.


Will Jason have to go to the pig farm, or to market or is Mrs Bumblebum a big softee?





PART 4 of  4


The Pig Finally Finds A Home


“Think of all that the children could learn from having a real live pig in school.” Said Mrs Actionpants. “How to take care of animals. What to feed them. How they become food."


I didn't care for that bit!


“We’d be doing a good turn for Mrs Plumpkim too” said Mr Grumbles. “Remember all those costumes she knitted for the Christmas plays?”


Mrs Bumblebum looked at Mrs Actionpants and Mr Grumbles. She looked at all the children gazing hopefully at her.


She looked at my beautiful face.


“Oh go on then” she said, not very bossily at all.


While Mr Grumbles set to work on my new home, the children decided to feed me.


“I’ve looked on the internet what pigs like to eat.” said John. “Here’s a bucket of pig swill, Jason”.


I wanted to be polite so I started to eat the sloppy mixture, but it was horrible.


Danny Ball watched, thinking hard.


“I’ll be back in a minute, Miss” he said running towards the school kitchen.


Danny returned a few minutes later carrying a huge bowl of spaghetti bolognese and placed it in front of me.


I wolfed it down splashing my face with big orange spots of  tomato sauce. Deelicious!!! Superb!!!


 “Come along” said Emma, “It’s time to see your new home.”


I gasped at the rug on the floor, the fire place with the smell of burning logs and the pale blue trough standing in the corner. A television was showing soaps on the back wall and behind a yellow door stood a four poster bed covered with a Superpig duvet.


I bounced on my bed, and then ran outside, lay on the grass and kicked my four little trotters in the air. The children laughed and cheered at me. A home at last!



©2017 Phil Robinson

When I was a lad at school around 13 years old, our Maths teacher used to call me Wol. At the end of the year as we were moving up a class I plucked up courage to ask why he called me Wol. He told meit was thename of the deslexic owl in Winnie the Pooh. With my Harry Potter glasses he said I looked like the Wise Old Owl in the Winnie the Pooh stories.


Being the vain person I am I took it as a compliment

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