Wholesome Farm Boy heard the warning siren and scrambled out of bed.
His asparagus hair sprang straight up in alarm.
“What?!” he shrieked “Pigs in the corn! Oh, no!”
He ran out the door! (He didn’t have to stop to put on his clothes—he always
slept in them, because they grew out of his skin.)
He ran and ran, his attached flower tie whizzing gaily in the wind of his passage.
He ran and ran to the cornfields: Oh! What a horrid sight! Pigs rooting brutally
in the lovely green stalks, eating corn with nasty slobbery chomping jaws!
All the other wholesome farm boys were there—they joined together
and pelted the pigs with clods of mud and handy twigs.
Wholesome Farm Boy did his part by screaming like a girl—pigs hate that.*
Soon those pigs got tired of the clods and screaming and left,
muddy bottoms waggling away into the night.
The farm boys had won! Most of the corn was saved!
Wholesome Farm Boy wiped milky sweat from his brow.
 “Whew!” he exclaimed to his good friend Huckleberry Lad,
“That was close! What a victory!”
“Boy, I’ll say!” said Huckleberry Lad, wiping purple sweat from his own brow.
They shook hands solemnly and then Farm Boy went back home
and got back into bed, where he dreamed about pleasant picnics in the summer sun.
 

*At least, all the pigs I know do.
 
 
 

(Remember this story goes with the Wholesome Corn Farm Boy paper doll on my web-site.)

Gayle Broadbent-Ferris   May 11, 2000