When she awoke, Alas found herself nose to snout with a big, fat pig.
An ugly creature whose wrinkled skin hung over its eyes, whiskers on its chin and drool
dangling from its lower lip as it stupidly chewed the apple cores that littered the cart that
Alas found herself in. Before she could blink the sleep from her eyes, another apple core
flew from somewhere near the front of the cart, landing squarely on Alas’ head. Wresting
with the blanket of hay, she flailed madly trying to get to her feet.
“Hey there are people in this pig pile” she shouted. “watch were you are throwing those
“Oh, you are awake. Finally.” came a familiar silky voice.
Alas recognized her as the angry gypsy from the night before. Her hand reached to her
throat and she froze, shocked. Then, that horrible nightmare hadn’t been a nightmare at
all, she thought to herself.
Tracing her fingers across the jeweled choker, she asked in a far off voice, “where am I?”
“in a pig pile,” for the first time, Alas heard joy in the gypsy’s voice.
Alas made a face, “well, where are we going?” the gypsy didn’t answer. As if Alas wasn’t
even there, she began to hum to herself. Giving up, Alas sunk back into the heap of straw
where she had awoken. The pig, whom Alas had dubbed, Oinkers, was a cuddler. The two
spent their day being jostled in the back of the cart. Together, they ignored the gypsy and
in turn she ignored them.