I trotted into the living room. She was on the phone again. We had finished playing and she’d made sure I was curled up for a nap. She didn’t hear me come in, she was intent on her conversation.
“No, I couldn’t give him up,” she was saying. “He’s too sweet!”
A moment passed and she seemed persuaded by the person on the other end. “Well,” she said. “He’s far too young for that. He needs to grow, gain some weight first.”
After another pause, she continued. “That does sound delicious, but there’s no way I could do it myself. I suppose you could…”
I sat down, waiting to hear the the conclusion of the conversation. “Fine. The luau this spring sounds like a perfect time. Of course,” she laughed. “I’ll bring the pineapple!”
She wrapped up the conversation and set down the phone, and when she got up to go to the other room, she spotted me sitting there in the doorway. “Oh! Were you listening in?” she gasped, looking guilty. I merely gave her a look that showed her my feelings of betrayal in one I had trusted so deeply. She stepped over and patted me on the head. “Let’s go have some nice lunch!”
My ears flopped as I followed her into the kitchen, but with less of a happy bounce in my step; for every pig knows the difference between when the word “lunch” means eating or being eaten.
It was from that moment that I began to plan my escape.
 |
| Writing Prompt #766 |
No comments:
Post a Comment