Another Children’s story

Peter Porker was having a rough day. The first thing he felt when he woke up was old, dry hay. It was rough. The farmer had not been taking care of Peter properly. The next thing Peter did was eat his grains and leftovers. There was a lot of dry bread and stuff. That was rough too.

Peter left his pen looking for something smooth to smooth out his rough day. He saw Rat and asked her “Hey Rat” Peter said, “I’m looking for something smooth.”

“Well, Porker ol’ buddy ol’ pal, I don’t have anything smooth, but I have things that are shiney.”
“Like what,” the porky one asked.
Rat rattled off an impressive list “Well I have coins from Canada, a Nigerian necklace, metal pretzels from Peru, odd-shaped jam jars from Detroit (my hood), and an unusually shiny jelly bean.”
“Oh. Well that’s not exactly what I’m looking for. Thanks for your help.”
“Porker, my friend, mi amigo, mein froind, wo pung yo, … take the coin. It’s my most precious item in my collection of shiny things, but I want you to have it.”
“Why thanks Rat,” said Peter. Rat scurried away and dissappeared into a dark hole in the floorboard.

Peter continued walking through the farm until he saw Rachel the Robin in an oak tree. “Hey Rache” Peter said, “I’m looking for something smooth. Can you help me?”
“Oh of course I can my round friend,” Rachel chirped.
“Oh yeah? That’s cool, what do you have.”
“I have nice worms,” the bird said, pulling a fresh worm from the dirt.
“That’s nice,” Peter replied, “but worms aren’t really my thing. I prefer potatoes.”
“Potatoes? What are potatoes?” Rachel asked between bites of her worm.
“You know, Po-ta-toes. Stir ’em, mash ’em, stick ’em in a stew. They’re quite yummy, you should try them sometime.”
“Nah,” Rachel said, “I like my food live-and wriggling. Anways, take one my feathers. It’s kind of smooth.”
“Oh thanks,” Peter replied, “Are you sure you don’t need it though?”
“Peter, I value our friendship more than my physical appearance and ability to fly.” Rachel flew away.

Just then Peter spotted Beatrix the Beagle. “Yo B,” Peter called out politely. He was about to call her a “dog,” but caught himself. “Hey Beatrix” Peter said, “I’m looking for something smooth. Got anything smooth.”
“Woof woof, I sure do my homie,” Beatirx said. “The fur on my back is smooth, so are my rhymes, I’m cooler that that cat over there,” Beatrix pointed at Calvin the Cat, “cuz I don’t sleep all the time.”
“Um, that’s cool. do you have to ‘flow’ right now?”
“I flow cuz thats what I do, Mommy-Daddy taught me how to, gotta keep it real and use rhythm and verse to make my spiel.”
“Whatever Beatrix, I just want something smooth. Today has been pretty rough.”
“Hey man, take my flow. It’s the smoothest thing you’ll ever get any more.”

Peter was tired of asking. He took his coin and feather to his bed of dry hay. He even used some of the flow Rachel gave him to write Farmer a note:

Dear Farmer
I can’t really flow, in fact I don’t understand what I’m doing anymore
today I tried to find something smooth or something to put me back in my groove
i thought i would find something, but I didn’t find anything
it was pretty terrible, but bearable. I thought I’d talk to you because it seemed sharable.
Can you please change my hay? It’s getting old, if I might be so bold
I would say that its uncomfortable, but maybe that’s all the hay you got for me. If so let it be. I just thought I should be real with you.
Thanks for the feed.
Peter Porker, the pig in your farm family.


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