The wooden shed stood near the farmhouse, on a couple of acres of land. I didn't know anything about farms, being a city kid until then, but I was very curious about this shed because to me, at three and a half years old, it looked just like a little house. The idea of a little house built to my scale was very appealing.

I didn't know who owned the land, or the house, or the shed. That didn't matter. All that mattered was that I check out this little shed without getting caught. So early one morning, seeing no activity, I furtively walked over to the shed. There was one window, but it was too high for me to see through. There was one door, but the door was padlocked. The door had a knothole in it that I could reach, though, so I put one eye to it to see what I could see. I couldn't see anything.

I walked around the shed a couple of times looking for any other possible way of seeing what was inside of it. There were no other openings I could make use of. So I went back to the knothole and tried again. Still couldn't see anything.

Then I spotted a branch laying on the ground.
Aha! Put branch in knothole. I don't know what I thought that would accomplish, but it fit and that seemed like a good start.
I put the branch into the knothole and wiggled it around.
It touched something.
And the something made a sound.
I couldn't identify that sound, so I wiggled the branch some more.

Bang! The door shook.
I stepped back.

Bang! The door shook again.
I stepped back a little further.

BANG! The door gave way on it's hinges and fell to the ground.

I was looking at what seemed to be a 500 pound pig who stood about as tall as I did.

She was not happy. Not at all. I was certain of that.

I started running. The pig ran after me. We ran around and around the garden, me screaming at the top of my lungs, the pig in hot pursuit.

I'd probably have been trampled, but for the sudden appearance of the farmer, who scooped me up under his arm and gave the pig some sort of signal. The pig stopped dead, looked at him inquisitively and walked away in resignation.

I was carried to the farm house and fed potato salad by his wife.

Then I went home. And pondered pigs and sticks and knotholes and potato salad.

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.