Pig Chef

Butter-yellow sun shone down on the baking hay of Chestnut Farm. Crackles, a flesh-pink pig, spent his time in a jagged, cosy, muddy pen. Opposite, dwelled Chick Pea; a feathered, comical hen with a fantastically razor-sharp beak. To her left was Gallon, an extremely proud black and white cow whose milk had a taste like gold.

Farmer Beefy was a middle aged man, of middling height and middling weight, who always slept in the middle of his bed. One night, after he had thrown his animals their nightly food, Crackles, Chick Pea and Gallon held an important gathering.

“ We’re all getting bored stiff of this food!” clucked Chick Pea

“I’ve had enough of these revolting meals!” mooed Gallon.

“What on earth can we do?” fluttered Chick Pea.

“It’s time we cooked for ourselves!” Oinked Crackles, with a forceful snort. “Follow me to the farmyard kitchen...”

Gallon plonked herself underneath the kitchen window. Crackles flopped his plump belly over the top. Chick Pea gracefully flew from Crackles hefty back through the kitchen window straight to the bulky pots and pans. Clattering noises came from the large, bone-dry kitchen as Chick Pea quickly pecked vegetables, barley and oats from the pantry into an iron pan.

From outside the window, Crackles hissed “Be hushed you blithering pot-monster!”

Chick Pea grabbed the pot handle in her beak and with a bit of a fuss, slid it onto Crackles bristly back.

Crackles slipped off Gallon and the two animals nudged the pot back to the barn while Chick Pea kept look out for Farmer Beefy.

Back in the Barn, Crackles cried; “But we have no fire! How will I cook?”

“Stand back” chirped Chick Pea.

With one lightening peck, she struck a flint and made a spark, lighting a pile of hay.

“Ta dah!” she cooed proudly.

Crackles got to work simmering, stirring and inventing the most incredible stew they had ever smelt.

A waft of delightful, deliciousness dived into Farmer Beefy’s nostrils as he lay in his lumpy bed.

“Good Gracious! I whiff something irresistible cooking...”

Putting on his rubbery Wellies, Beefy trod through sticky night-mud to the source of the astonishing smell. He flung open the crooked Barn doors and saw, with his pitch-black pupils, his star animals cooking a vegetable stew!

Had he gone mad?

Crackles, Gallon and Chick Pea froze.

“We’re done for!” Gallon whimpered. Well, that’s what she thought.

“It’s a miracle! I need to try this to believe it...” and then Beefy fainted and fell like a knocked down scarecrow into the hay.  When he woke he was back in his bed. Had it all been a farm-yard dream?