Saturday, 28 July 2012
Peppa Pig in the belly of Peppa Pig
Peppa Pig crouches in the shadowed damp of an underpass. This time, she tells the knife. This time.
Peppa Pig exhumes the remains of her grandmother. The demons will dance tonight, she thinks.
A sun explodes. A solar system is annihilated. Peppa Pig strokes the curved universe in ecstacy.
Peppa Pig cures Porky Pig of his stutter then suffocates him, saying "it wasn't meant to be like this".
When Christopher Robin yells "Piglet!" during coitus, Peppa Pig weeps and weeps until the camera's memory card is full.
Peppa Pig throws some grain onto the bedroom floor. It lands in the shape of a unicorn. She hides under her duvet, shivering with fear.
Peppa Pig looks at George's toy dinosaur, keeps looking at it, does nothing but look. Whispered incantations form solid blocks in her mind.
Millions of Peppa Pigs cascading into the mouth of Zoe Ball, their little limbs snapping on her yabbering tongue.
Richard Madeley pins Peppa Pig to the wall. "You snorting at my missus?" Thirty years of hate form clouds of blistering halitosis.
Peppa Pig draws chalk curly tails on alleyway walls to prepare us for Batpig's arrival. He doesn't come. The rain falls long and hard.
Peppa Pig gathers toys for playtime. A bouncy ball, a wooden yoyo, a coal-fired incinerator.
Peppa Pig at a job interview, crawling on the desk. Her laughter is violent. She is thanked for her time.
Peppa Pig bursts into a thousand colours, translucent, flowing, a pulsating memory of herself.
Rastamouse has a Peppa Pig dream. When he wakes, his mouth is dry. He says nothing. Goes about his day.
Balloons drift over trees. Bunting snaps in strong breezes. The party is over. Peppa Pig is dead.
Her brother George tries to think of a eulogy, a regret, anything. He's distracted by a fly in a spider's web. He never thinks of her again.
A stuttering pig of some repute. In the drawing room. With a butcher's knife.