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Nov. 8th, 2006 10:02 pmSnowball didn't know what possessed him to walk out of the bar when he did, but he blinked in the sunlight and glanced around.
The hedge he'd disappeared into had gone; replaced with a hard wooden fence. In the field ahead were sheep, working in silence to clear weeds from the crop of wheat.
When they saw Snowball, they stared at him for a moment, then with a look of guilty conscience ignored him in favour of their work. Not a sound was uttered as Snowball trotted down to the farm, as bold as brass.
Time, it seemed, was the ultimate weapon.
He remained unquestioned until he reached a paddock of horses manually sifting the grain from the straw of a harvest. There was a young pig nearby, wearing a T-shirt and shorts and chewing one of the straws idly as she supervised the animals. When she saw Snowball, she got up and bowed politely.
"The other candidates have gone through to the house to be suitably dressed." she said to the rather surprised Snowball. "But you're not too late. I'll show you the way."
Thanking his good luck, he followed her into the house where, to his utter and well hidden disgust, he was given a pair of shorts and a shirt to wear. A stout young pig appeared in a doorway and nodded to him.
"The grand president Napoleon the second will see you now."
Snowball entered, almost amused by the proceedings, and stood before what appeared to be an interview panel of three large pigs. He recognised the three immediately as sons of Napoleon; their father's features playing strongly on their faces. They looked up in unison and the middle one spoke.
"I am President Napoleon the second. I take it you are here for the post of chief engineer?"
"Yes." Snowball replied. Why not? Such designs were never Napoleon's strongpoint, but at least he was applying for a position he was capable of filling. Napoleon II nodded.
"Your name?"
Well he could hardly say Snowball. These pigs had probably learned about him at school.
"Wellington."
A raised eyebrow from the right hand pig. "An unusual name."
"Yes, I was born on top of one. My mother thought it appropriate."
"Very well." The pig clears his throat and looks back at Napoleon II, who nods.
"So, Mr Wellington, do you think you are capable of replacing the lost windmill design to provide electicity and lighting, heating, hot and cold running water?"
Snowball's eyes crinkled at the edge just slightly.
"Oh yes, I think I can manage that."
The hedge he'd disappeared into had gone; replaced with a hard wooden fence. In the field ahead were sheep, working in silence to clear weeds from the crop of wheat.
When they saw Snowball, they stared at him for a moment, then with a look of guilty conscience ignored him in favour of their work. Not a sound was uttered as Snowball trotted down to the farm, as bold as brass.
Time, it seemed, was the ultimate weapon.
He remained unquestioned until he reached a paddock of horses manually sifting the grain from the straw of a harvest. There was a young pig nearby, wearing a T-shirt and shorts and chewing one of the straws idly as she supervised the animals. When she saw Snowball, she got up and bowed politely.
"The other candidates have gone through to the house to be suitably dressed." she said to the rather surprised Snowball. "But you're not too late. I'll show you the way."
Thanking his good luck, he followed her into the house where, to his utter and well hidden disgust, he was given a pair of shorts and a shirt to wear. A stout young pig appeared in a doorway and nodded to him.
"The grand president Napoleon the second will see you now."
Snowball entered, almost amused by the proceedings, and stood before what appeared to be an interview panel of three large pigs. He recognised the three immediately as sons of Napoleon; their father's features playing strongly on their faces. They looked up in unison and the middle one spoke.
"I am President Napoleon the second. I take it you are here for the post of chief engineer?"
"Yes." Snowball replied. Why not? Such designs were never Napoleon's strongpoint, but at least he was applying for a position he was capable of filling. Napoleon II nodded.
"Your name?"
Well he could hardly say Snowball. These pigs had probably learned about him at school.
"Wellington."
A raised eyebrow from the right hand pig. "An unusual name."
"Yes, I was born on top of one. My mother thought it appropriate."
"Very well." The pig clears his throat and looks back at Napoleon II, who nods.
"So, Mr Wellington, do you think you are capable of replacing the lost windmill design to provide electicity and lighting, heating, hot and cold running water?"
Snowball's eyes crinkled at the edge just slightly.
"Oh yes, I think I can manage that."
