“Percy, are you ready?”

Scrreeech!

“For the love of God, man, cut that out!”

“What is that hellacious racket?”

“Is everybody all right?”

“It’s Juliette’s gift.”

“What? What’s that?”

“I just brought her flowers, what did you do, rob an orphanage?”

“No, I traded a farmer a couple of hours mucking out stalls.”

“Is that a pig? Giles, you don’t think you’re bringing it inside the house, do you?”

“And he gave you his kid?”

“It’s a fair trade, isn’t it?”

“Aw, and it looks like you, too.”

“Shut up you guys. Everything’s fine, Mrs. Beales. I’m leaving. Let’s go, guys, we’re
going to be late.”

“Giles, did you even ask yourself how you’re going to get on a streetcar with a pig?”

“I’ll stick it under my coat. No one will see.”

“It won’t shut the hell up! Nobody has to see
it.”

“Well, I’ll…I’ll call a cab.”

“Hansom cab will cost you eight quid. Plus, you think the cabbie will take you?”

“You won’t even be able to get on a bus. Those old busybodies will have you strung
up for child abuse.”

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? Juliette said she was dying for ham.”

“Ham? Is that what she calls it?”

“She said, ‘Real ham, not that dreadful Spam everyone eats.’ What else could I do?”

“You stole it, didn’t you?”

“Oh, Giles, man, you are whipped.”

“I didn’t steal it, all right? I left the farmer a silver plated lighter, right on
his front porch. It’s worth more than the pig. It had a quarter carat diamond
on it.”

“Giles Hall, you’re a fool. A city fool, at that. Do you even know how to make ham?”

“Well, no. I figured one of you could…”

Sccrreeeal!

“Giles, for heaven’s sakes!”

“Dash it, Kenny, I don’t know what to do!”

“Well, now you’ve scared it. Watch out – it’s pissing down your trousers! Hold it out –
well not like that, I don’t want pig piss on me!”

“You should have brought it a nappy.”

“Kenny… if you’re not going to say anything sensible…”

“A nappy! Kenny, you’re brilliant. Pop round to Mrs. Beale’s parlor, would you,
and grab one of her tea towels. She won’t miss the one.”

“Giles, Giles, you’re weaving a tangled web…”

“Belt up, Percy. Now I’ll just shove the little blighter into my coat, and we’re off.”

“I’ve done you one better than that, Giles. I’ve gotten him his own coat!”

“Isn’t that the jacket from Mrs. Beale’s Churchill doll?”

“You’re a dead man. A dead man walking, you are.”

“She won’t ever know. It’s just a loan.”

She cleared her throat. “Mrs. Griswold?”

The old lady started, then turned and smiled. “I’m sorry dear, where was I?”

“They asked you to come outside to get your birthday gift?”

Mrs. Griswold smiled, her ancient, seamed skin smoothing for a moment as her face
changed. “Oh, yes. That crazy boy dragged me away from my other party guests,
all the way outside. He was standing on the back porch, his hair untidy,
wrestling with the most precious little piglet I’d ever seen. And he said, ‘Miss
Hahnke, I’ve brought you your ham.’ And I just caught my breath. ‘Giles Hall,’
I said, ‘you give her to me this instant!’” Mrs. Griswold smiled again at the
memory, and Adele nudge her tape recorder closer.

“They called me fickle, you know,” Mrs. Griswold went on, dimpling slightly. “Poppa
shouted at me when I refused to see Giles again. Just about everyone in
Marblehead had seen us wedded, bedded and buried; everyone but me, that is. I
took one look at him and I knew he wasn’t for me. Not the way he treated
Arabella.”

“Arabella?” Adele asked, amused at the addition of yet another character to the play.

Mrs. Griswold looked faintly incensed. “He buttoned her up in that awful coat, and poured
sherry down her throat to keep her quiet. And she, not six months old! I knew
he’d be an dreadful father Giles Hall would.”

“The piglet,” Adele said quickly. “Arabella’s the piglet.”

“Of course she is,” Mrs. Griswold blinked at her mildly.

“Right.” Adele smiled slightly and moved the tape recorder mic close to her lips. “Thank you so much for your time, Mrs. Juliette
Griswold. Marblehead High School values your contribution to our Time Capsule
1974 project. We look forward to opening this capsule in the year two thousand
and four and we know that your descendants, and the descendants of our mayor,
Giles Hall, will look back on this picture, and–” Adele swallowed and glanced
at the black and white photograph, shaking her head slightly, “and… get a
fuller picture of life in Marblehead, Maine in the last century. Thank-you.”

“That’s all right, young lady,” Mrs. Griswold smiled at her sweetly. “I only wish you
could have fit Arabella’s coat into your little box. I still have it.”

“That’s nice,” Adele muttered, packing up her recording kit hurriedly. She’d been
talking to the old lady for almost an hour. Kevin and Chris were probably
already sitting in Kevin’s basement, listening to records, and Chris was probably
making the moves on Kevin. She had to hurry.

“Even after we slaughtered her, I wouldn’t give it back. Giles Hall came to see me
every day for months, trying to get that coat back from me. Promised me he’d do
anything.” Mrs. Griswold laughed, her hazel eyes turning narrowing, catlike. “Anything,
he said.”

Adele glanced at the old woman, whose fingers were delicately threading through her silvery
blonde hair. Her smile was …disturbing. For a moment, Adele felt like this
little old lady might know something more interesting than stories about
piglets. Her finger hovered over the record button.

“Mrs. Griswold?”

The old lady started, then turned and smiled. “I’m sorry dear, where was I?”

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The images that inspired this little snippet of ficktion come from this blog, and you can find more experimental flights at Ficktion.ning.