Thursday September 3rd, 2015

The exercise:

Write about: Hellpig.

I was at the park with Max this afternoon and overheard a woman telling someone else the name of her dog. It took me a minute to realize I'd misheard her, but Hellpig stuck with me anyway. So now... uh, do with it as a writing prompt what you can!

Oh, I'm thinking Sunday for this month's visit to The Colony. I've got a few vague ideas running around my head about what I want to do with my portion. We'll see what sticks come the weekend.

Mine:

"I'm sorry, what did you say her name is?"

"I think you heard me, madam."

"Oh! Oh. Well... that is quite the name!"

"Isn't it?"

"However did you come up with it?"

"Oh, I had nothing to do with it."

"Then how...?"

"We let the kids name her."

2 Comments:

Greg said...

But... but... you've not told us what the actual name of the dog was! My Canadian's not good enough to work out homophones, and the misheard name is too appealing so it keeps distracting me :) I wouldn't dare name a chihuahua Hell(anything) because they're only a short instructional video away from believing they're Hellhounds at any given moment anyway. Ah! Was the dog's real name "Balrog" then?
Ha, your story rings remarkably true.

Hellpig
"Mavis? Is that you? Is that really you?"
"Yes Derek, it's really me. My, it smells – no, it stinks of bacon in here. Quite strongly cured too, I'd say. What have you been eating, Derek?"
"I–"
"And how did you get it? You've been surplussed, I don't think we feed surplus. And I know you can't get out of here by yourself because you left one hundred and eighty-seven whiny messages on my voicemail. I've had to hire an assistant to delete them all."
"I–"
"Look, Derek, no-one feels badly about you. I mean, no-one feels bad for you. No, that's not quite I mean either. I think I mean, no-one intends to treat you badly. Yes, that sounds better. But you were a problem for a long time, and the company wants to see a little justice done. Just stay in here, stop eating bacon, and stop calling me. You'll be in here for about two weeks, not long enough to starve to death. I don't want that, whatever the memoes might say."
"Mavis!"
"Derek? You sound almost like the Derek who hired me!"
"Mavis, there's a damnable Hellpig down here! That's the smell. I'm not eating it, it's trying to eat me!"
"You look shorter, somehow..."
"Yes! Yes! It ate my feet already, see!"
"... Don't wave bloody stumps in my face, Derek. I'm not squeamish, but that kind of thing isn't nice."
"Sorry Mavis."
"Fine, well, I'll get the basement fumigated then."
"Thank-you Mavis."
"You might want to practice holding your breath, Derek."
"Oh. How long for, do you think?"
"Longer than the Hellpig can should do it."

Marc said...

Greg - ah, I see I managed to leave you in suspense until now. I'd say I'm sorry... but I wouldn't mean it :P

If I recall correctly I think it was either Hedwig or... hmm. Something else that seemed almost as unlikely as Hellpig. Hellbig maybe?

Ah, poor Derek. I see being surplussed isn't going particularly well. Not that I was expecting it to, mind.