Pink Piggy Tales
Episode 16 – Graduation Day
by Christopher Wisherwood
Sandy sat and looked at the Certificates on the table in front of him. He had issued them to himself, Leafy and Noddy as graduates of his course in being Obscenely Huge Liars. Du’Stan looked on in disappointment as his Certificate said that he was still only a Bigger Liar. The new Certificates allowed the letters PIG to be added to their names. (Promoter of Infantile Gobbledegook) Sandy clapped his podgy hands and slapped Leafy on the back causing him to drop his fag and spurt his breakfast cup of tea all over his clean T shirt and sparkly cod piece.
“It’s wonderful” sniggered Sandy. “With these certificates we can prove that we are big enough liars to become Lawyers”.
“Ive always wanted to be a lawyer. They ‘av big briefcases and I ‘av always wanted a big un” shouted Leafy jumping up and down with glee. It was the first Certificate he had ever received and he was going to frame it and send a copy to his Mum and Dad; if he ever found out where they were hiding. Leafy was not lucky with Mums they kept leaving him under bushes. He knew that lawyers earned lots of money whether they won or lost the case so his future was now secure. “Is there a graduation ceremony?” he asked hopefully. He knew that graduates wore caps and gowns and he had his new baseball cap ready and the frock that Bimboli had sewn for him when he was a bridesmaid at Noddy’s recent second wedding.
He wanted to rush to the shop in town that had a new bright red moped in the window. It had black flashes on it and had a big enough seat to fit a boy at the front and one at the back, what ecstasy. There was even room to write “Mafia” on the petrol tank. His pulling power would be doubled. Excitement got the better of him and he rushed to the bathroom to relieve the pressure on his damp tea stained cod piece. Du’Stan stole his packet of fags as soon as he was out of sight.
Sandy waited for Leafy to re-emerge and then, chewing his fingernails, mused for a while. “I have a more cunning plan. Perhaps we are now big enough liars to be Estate Agents. People might trust us and we can cheat them out of thousands. Just think of all the Government land or properties that are due for demolition that we can sell everyone”.
Noddy had just woken up on a pile of old clothes in the corner of the room. He had been sent back to Luxor from darkest Africa when the Mandingos got tired of his constant whining. No amount of ransom money was worth that. The pygmies had considered eating him but were afraid of food poisoning so they wrapped him in brown paper, stuck a stamp on him and sent him to the Post Office in Mahata Street. The staff there, on opening the package for custom’s inspection, quickly threw him into the street and then washed their hands a dozen times to cleanse themselves of his touch.
Noddy yawned then leapt up and clutched the Certificate with glee. Like Leafy, it was the first qualification he had ever had. He had once taken an NVQ is washing up while working at a hotel but had failed miserably when he could not get dried egg off the plates. Sandy had lots of qualifications. He just printed them off whenever he felt like it. He could boast that nobody in Luxor had as many PhD certificates from bogus Universities as he did. Du’Stan vowed to steal one of them and change the name on it so that he could be an Estate Agent too. A small tear of disappointment crept into the corner of his eye and he stifled a belch and scratched his arse.
Noddy pirouetted on the pointy shoes he loved so much that he wore them in his makeshift bed. Leafy, overcome with excitement at the thought of buying an even bigger moped wet himself. Sandy heaved his weight about and groaned while he raised his right buttock ready to let off one of his seismic farts. Noddy and Leafy blanched and took cover behind the settee. Du’Stan hid in the wardrobe. Sandy’s stomach rumbled and gurgled but then settled leaving our hapless trio safe for the time being.
“Premises. We need premises. If we are to be Estate Agents then we need a shop. Where will we find a shop?" queried Sandy.
“In an Estate Agents” offered Leafy timidly already seeing where the conversation would take him.
“But we are Estate Agents now” laughed Noddy. “How can one Estate Agent go to another Estate Agent to find somewhere to set up shop”?
“Easy” said Du’Stan having one of his cleverer moments. “We pretend to be lawyers”. Sandy slapped him on the back causing the stolen packet of fags to fall to the floor.
“Thems my fags” whined Leafy, desperately wanting to snatch up the packet but being afraid because Du’Stan was bigger than him. “Thems my fags. I sold myself five times at 50 piastas a go to buy them”. His bottom lip trembled and a lump came to his throat at the thought of it but he quickly recovered when he thought of the pleasure he got in that alley behind the Sheradon. One of the boat boys had even promised to come again if the price was right. "Do Estate Agents 'av big briefcases too?" he asked forlornly.
“That bitch Honey Grimsdale might have a shop we can steal. We can set her up and try and get her deported. I am sure I saw her buying groceries in Somar’s Market last week. That must be a criminal offence. If not we can say that she demanded sex from all of us and that we have six men to swear that she did. That should do the trick”.
“How will that work” asked Noddy. “We are gay and like boys. Who would believe us?”
“You daft buggers. This is Luxor” interjected Du’Stan. “She would have to be ninety-five years old, have leprosy and have been dead for a week before anyone would refuse to have sex with her and even then there would be at least one volunteer”.
“We know that but people outside of Luxor don’t,” reasoned Sandy. “I just have to flood the Internet with the lies. Hopefully that will depress her and drive her out of Luxor and then we can take over her flat and her business. Just think of all the money we can make”.
Leafy got excited again over the thought of having enough money to buy an imported Harley. He grabbed up the fallen packet of fags and lit three all at the same time. Stuffing two in his mouth and one up his left nostril. He coughed violently and wet himself again. He stepped out of the puddle and shook the yellow liquid from his furry slippers then vowed to buy some Pampas or some Tena Lady pads next time he was in a pharmacy.
Sandy, forgetting his physical inadequacies, tried to look sexy enough for a woman to demand sex from him. Noddy preened himself and pirouetted again. “Easy” he said copying Du’Stan. “Nobody could resist me” He wiggled his hips and tried out his most husky voice while searching in his new carrier-bag for a glossy lipstick. (Devoted readers you may weep here because Noddy almost went into terminal decline when the Pygmy kept his crocodile handbag and he could not afford a new one). He glossed his lips, fluffed up his hair and pouted. The flies on the wall were sick.
Leafy sat and cried at the thought of having sex with a woman of any age let alone a fat old woman like Honey Grimsdale. He did not even like grown up men. “Be brave lads” chivvied Sandy. “Off we go to the Police Station. Think of Queens and country. Be a mincing man not a mincing mouse. All we need to do is lie enough to get the old bat thrown own of Egypt then we’ll be rich.”
“Let’s open a bottle of Stella to celebrate” squeaked Du’Stan still eying Leafy’s packet of fags and staring lingeringly at Noddy’s lipstick.
And so the PIGgies went out into the sun to start their dastardly, devious, dodgy and deliciously depraved deals. Sandy farted which closed the front door automatically behind them and dried out Leafy’s wet clothes but unfortunately withered the surrounding trees that had only recently been planted. Leafy skipped along beside him making sure that he did not stand on the cracks in the pavement and Du'Stan tried to look as though he was not with him. Noddy carefully arranged his new carrier-bag over his arm and bent to tie the laces of his pointy shoes causing Leafy to have another accident. Just another day in paradise.
Sandy had not felt so happy since he robbed an Oxfam box in Paddington Night Shelter. If this failed he was sure he could find a charity box or a collection plate to rob somewhere. He knew from experience that they were seldom closely watched. Charity workers were trusting souls just ripe for him to pick.
Pink Piggy Tales are entirely fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
