Smokey the Magnificent

Conversations with the snortlepig have entered the realm of the absurdist lately. Take this wee chat from yesterday.

Helpdesk Man: Come on, pig, we need to sort out your tiny toofpegs.

Me [in a fey and playful mood]: Shall we sort them out or pull them out? Which do you think?

The snortlepig: Tomatoes.

And then there was the night she woke up, shouted “RHINOS!” and went back to sleep. It makes me jumpy. She’s also developed the disconcerting habit of grabbing my face with both hands, enjoying a brief spasm of rage and saying in a slow, creepy and violent manner, “Heeellllooooo, mmummmmyyyy”. What does it mean? Maybe I should have followed my mother-in-law’s advice and had my milk tested after all.