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PESKY PUNKY PIGS ( DAY 13, LETTER P)

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SANGEETHA KAMATH

 


                            CHAPTER 12

                    PESKY PUNKY PIGS 

Wait! Footsteps trampled heavily down the path. Goldwynn leaned out but couldn't make out much.

The three little pigs sauntered down the twilight-dusted road, exuding an air of menace. Swinedell , the self-appointed kingpin, led the pack, his slicked-back scalp gleaming like polished onyx in the fading light. A black leather jacket with silver spikes seemed to swallow his frame, and ripped jeans added an air of dishevelment to his ruffian looks.

A chunky gold chain swung from his neck, proclaiming his turf dominance.

Baconne , the behemoth, rolled his massive shoulders, his sleeveless and shredded denim vest straining to contain the tattooed chaos beneath. His tree-trunk arms were a roadmap of pig-centric graffiti, each inked swirl – formidable. His heavy boots pulverized the gravel, sending pebbles skittering like panicked prey.

Porrkinn, the feral youngest, darted nervous glances left and right, his wiry frame coiled like a switchblade. A hoodie shrouded his bony shoulders, and skinny jeans made him look like a stray cat ready to bolt. His mohawk was a jagged, messy crown, his eyes perpetually scanning the horizon for the next score, the next score, the next score.

The trio glared at the bears' cottage

 The colourful facade seemed laughable, an insult to their tough-guy cred. Swinedell curled his lip, a sneer twisting his features. "Bit... wee for bears, innit?" Baconne snorted, cracking his knuckles like a predator flexing its claws. Porrkinn sniffed the air, a rat on high alert.

They swaggered up to the door, a hurricane of malice. Swinedell raised a boot, and the door swung open with a splintering crash. The cottage opened to a gathering of a young girl and three woodland critters.

The merriment seemed to mock them. "Intruders! Trespassers!" Swinedell growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble. Dapper, Chipper and Hopper ran helter skelter. Goldwynn jumped up and overturned the chair she was sitting on.

“Sit Down!” He barked. “Nobody moved! Get back here, you thieving imps! What are you doing in our house, hmmmm? He snarled.          

Baconne and Porrkinn prowled into the cottage, their footsteps heavy on the floorboards. Swinedell slammed the door shut and the cottage trembled like a child's playhouse . He snorted in disgust, sending a spray of trinkets tumbling off a shelf. 

Baconne chuckled, a low rumble, as he insolently plopped onto the sunflower-yellow couch. 

Porrkinn darted around, snatching bits of food the trio had brought, sniffing corners, his eyes gleaming like a scavenger's.

In the kitchen, he yanked open cupboards, revealing jars of preserves and spices. He sniffed a jar of "Bears' Special Blend", his face twisting in distaste. "What kinda bears are these?" he growled. He strode into the pantry, emerging with a triumphant grin and a stash of raisin cookies. He devoured those, his fingers sticky with crumbs.

Suddenly, he froze, his gaze locked on the half-written note on the wooden desk. "Yo, Bac! Checkit!" he yelled, his voice pitched high. 

Baconne snatched the note, his eyes scanning the scribbled words. "Beneath the oak where shadows eat the light..." He grinned, a nasty glint in his eye. "Looks like we just found the clues to the Locke Jewel." 

Swinedell growled, his face a mask of excitement. "Who needs the Bears now." 

Goldwyn rolled her eyes. "Oh, great. The local thugs have pea sized brains! That's a clue, you twopence? That's a poem I just wrote before you goons burst in here.” She scoffed.

Baconne sneered, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Whatever you've got. And info on the bears."

Dapper, the sleek Dormouse, flipped his fluffy tail. "Bears aren't here, goonies. Maybe try the honey shop?"

Swinedell charged, his massive frame barreling towards Dapper. He dodged, nimble as a whip, and landed a cheeky nip on Swinedell's ear. The big pig yelled, stumbling back.

Chipper, the feisty Chipmunk, launched himself at Porkinn, squeaking like a banshee. Hopper the hare kicked Baconne’s shin, sending him hopping on one foot.

Goldwynn jumped into the fray, her hair flying as she tangled with Porrkinn, dodging his clumsy swings.

To Be Continued...

This post is part of the Blogchatter A2Z Challenge 2026.

https://www.theblogchatter.com/blogrolls/pesky-punky-pigs-day-13-letter-p


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