The Professor Sits In On A Game Of Porker

 

The professor knew some guys who knew some guys who were pigs.

Turns out these pigs liked to play a form of poker. One of these guys was a chick. Her name was Peggy. She did not dig being called Miss Piggy. So, just don’t do that. The others were the Hogg brothers, Gerhardt and Marvin.

One of the D&D guys that the prof knew said the pigs would be glad to have him sit in for a couple of games with them. If I get this right, it was Rooster’s big idea.

Pigs are notoriously gregarious, you remember. Though somewhat dubious, Prof. F. said “ok.” After all, he liked pigs and pigs liked him!

The appointed place, well their regular place, was the dank back room at a place called the Frisky Trotter, Bar and Grill. Cheap drinks and questionable grub. You know how pigs are.

It was a late Friday night at the Frisky Trotter. Prof. F. strolled in at about 10 pm. When he pushed the door open a scent of fried onions blew past him. It might have been better if he had turned around right then. It was dark in there and he had to ask where the back room was located. Several hopeful young piglets gave him come hither glances, but he ignored them. "Huzzies!" 

The back room smelled of damp carpet and inexpensive beer.

Three figures were hunched together down at the end of a long cafeteria type table. Seeing him, one shaggy figure who turned out to be Gerhardt rose to his feet and beckoned with a front trotter in which was clamped a sinister looking black cigarette. “Come on down, Prof,” he chortled. I must admit he snorted a couple of times too. Marvin shoved his visor up so he could get a good look at our Prof. He put both fore trotters on the tabletop and didn’t speak.

Miss Piggy, I mean Peggy, had the cards. She was kinda cute, if a little past her prime. She had a pile of golden curls on top of her head and wore a lot of jangly cheap jewelry.

“We heard you were coming,” said Peggy. “Take a seat!” Her little hooves scrabbled with delight under the table.

Professor Farns took a seat and faced the group. “Howdy” says he. His sense of the absurd was really kicking up now. In for a piggy out for a hog, or something came to mind.

“We got a cooler here. They let us bring our own beers” said Gerhardt, indicating the cooler behind Peggy’s chair. It was half full of melted ice and about a dozen cans of Sleazy Regret brand ale. “Oh well,” thinks the Prof and pulls one out for himself.

He wondered if there was something wrong with the lights. Things seemed to be getting vague. Dark. Little hard to get your cloven hoof on...

“Play porker, your squeal,” said Miss P… uh, Peggy to Prof. F, who was rather horrified, really. He couldn’t seem to get his hands to work right! They seemed to look somewhat like trotters!

A sort of dim mist filled the room and drowned out the sound of the porky voices. They all seemed further and further away as the seconds ticked over.

***

There was an awful ringing sound in his ears. He rolled over in bed and sat up. Mr. Gigi had something to say from the other room. “Gigi, Gigi,” he said!