The Twisted Tale of Oliver Dumfries (Part 2 of 2)

Oliver gulped. He didn't want to take something that belonged to someone else. But the clothes looked so beautiful, and he was the most civilized animal he knew.


So when it grew dark and all his family slept soundly, Oliver wiggled underneath the pig pen fence and headed for the chicken coop. Most of the hens were roosting high above the nestboxes, leaving their precious eggs unguarded. Oliver took a deep breath, then started gathering.




Everything went smoothly until Oliver headed toward the coop door. He was carrying so many eggs, he didn't see the chicken feeder on his right. He tripped and bumped right into Riley Rooster.


Riley took one look at Oliver and started bellowing at the top of his lungs, "Thief! Thief! Cock-a-doodle! Thief!"


In half a second, the whole coop exploded with a cacophony of clucking, pecking and scratching. Oliver sped through the coop entrance, but not without dropping a couple eggs and receiving several painful pecks on his tail.




After nursing his pride and aching backside, Oliver limped to the Farmer's front porch. The Farmer's wife always kept Fluffy's food dish well supplied with cream. But unfortunately, Fluffy now lay curled around it, snoring.

Oliver tiptoed up the stairs and slowly, ever so slowly, picked up the dish to pour its precious contents into the empty milk bottle nearby. Once he drained the dish, he carefully put it back against Fluffy's side.


But not carefully enough.


Fluffy's eyes shot open, his pupils narrowing in the bright moonlight. With a hiss most unpleasant, he swiped at Oliver's face, leaving a crimson scratch upon the pig's nose.

Oliver grabbed the cream and sprinted back toward the pigpen, running at top speed.



When he finally caught his breath, Oliver wiggled back under the fence to his beloved shed and clean hay. Jacob Foxworthy sat just outside the pen, waiting. He smiled at the disheveled pig.




"My, my!" He exclaimed. "You're quite a sight, little pig. Have any trouble?"




Oliver blushed and placed his loot on the ground. Mr. Foxworthy sniffed at the pile of eggs and half-filled bottle of cream. (Much of the cream had sloshed out of the bottle during Oliver's little dash back to the pen).



"This is not what I asked for," the fox said.


Oliver shot Mr. Foxworthy an exasperated glance. "If you only knew what I went through to get this, you would be satisfied," he grunted.





Mr. Foxworthy shrugged. "Very well," he yawned. "You need this outfit more than I do. Anything would improve your appearance tonight."And with a quick flick of his tail, the tailor trotted out of sight.





Oliver quickly donned his reward and headed for the water trough to see his reflection and wipe his aching nose. Despite the minor wound, Oliver felt pleased.





"How handsome I look," he thought as he stared into the water. "Tomorrow I shall go to town and show all these common farm animals just how civilized a pig can be."





The next morning, Oliver again stood in the far corner of the pig pen, careful not to get any mud on his new clothes. It didn't take long for all the other pigs to notice his new look.





"Oliver," his brother said, "is that you?"





"Why of course it's me. How do you like my clothes?" Oliver asked, beaming with pride.





"You... you don't even look like a pig anymore, Oliver!" Reginald stammered.





Oliver smiled a huge smile. His brother couldn't have paid him a greater compliment.





"Exactly," Oliver replied. "I'm finished with this pen. I'm going to town, and maybe I'll find an outfit for you too."





"How did you get the clothes? And where did that scratch on your nose come from?" his parents asked.





But Oliver had no time for questions. "Unlike you, I actually have places to be. So enjoy your dirt. I'm off to the town. Farewell!" And with that, he left the pen while his family and friends stared sadly after him.



Oliver didn't know exactly which way town was. But he'd seen the Farmer head north that morning and figured he could try that direction first. Some of the animals snickered as Oliver passed by, walking on his hind legs. But most were so stunned, they just gawked. Oliver loved the attention and stuck his snout higher in the air.



"They all wish they dressed as well as I," he thought to himself.



Oliver followed the road and sure enough, it led him right to the marketplace at the center of town. Oliver's eyes widened at the sight of tables with ripened cheeses, baskets of fresh sweet corn, carts filled with juicy apples, and more colors and sounds than he had ever known.

He was about to sample a ripe peach, when he heard an angry shout.

"William! William!" A bearded man with a red face pushed his way through the crowd and pointed right at Oliver. It was the Farmer!

"What on earth are you doing out of school, young man?" he demanded. "I ought to take you out to the woodshed right now!"

Oliver turned white. Apparently Mr. Foxworthy was more a theif than a tailor.

"Come here, lad. We're going home!" The Farmer reached for Oliver's hand, but Oliver turned and ran, bewildering the Farmer and everyone else.

The chase began. Oliver got on all fours and sprinted back to the road with the Farmer following like an angry tornado.

"William!" he kept shouting, "Stop at once! You'll not eat supper for a week! William, stop!"

Oliver ran for his life, dodging in and out of thickets, trying to lose his pursuer. Finally, he reached the pig pen. Oliver dove under the fence, but the clothes caught the wires. Wiggling feverishly, Oliver tore his way out of the outfit and dove into the mud puddle for cover.

Three seconds later, the Farmer saw his son's clothes hanging on the fence. He huffed and puffed, catching his breath. He looked this way and that, but couldn't find his son. All he saw were a bunch of muddy pigs staring back at him. Throwing his hands up in frustration, he stomped up the steps to his house.

Back at the pen, Oliver sat in the mu weeping. All the other pigs stared at his scratches and bruises. He was a miserable sight. After several minutes, Oliver's family wallowed toward him. His mother gave him a kiss and started applying more mud to his aching body. Oliver hated to admit it, but the mud did feel cool and soothing against his scraped skin.

"I'm sorry," Oliver said at length. "I'm sorry for making fun of everyone. I'm sorry for taking the eggs and cream. And I'm really, really sorry for shaming us all. I must have looked rediculous just now." Tears streamed down Oliver's face, making tiny pink streaks in his muddied countenence.


"We don't really care what the other animals think. We're just glad you're home, son," Oliver's dad grunted. Oliver looked at Reginald's smiling face, as well as the encouraging faces of all his cousins and friends. And for the first time in his life, Oliver was happy to be home too.

The Twisted Tale of Oliver Dumfries (Part 2 of 2)

Oliver was the most civilized swine he knew, and it would be a travesty for any other creature to wear the clothes.

The Twisted Tale of Oliver Dumfries (Part 1 of 2)

The Dumfries family lived on a damp piece of real estate enclosed by a barbed wire fence. Neither criminals nor prisoners, the Dumfries were, in fact, pigs. They didn't mind wallowing in swamp-like conditions or eating out of a cement trough. They enjoyed the cool, squishy mud and munching on dried sweet corn.

Mama and Papa Dumfries could often be found luxuriating in a communal mud bath with their hoggish neighbors in the far corner of the pen. There, they'd discuss pig politics while the piglets would alternate between tussling in the mud and napping in the hay. The Dumfries led a simple, happy existence and most of their friends led the same. However, there was one pig in the pen who was not content.

Oliver Claudio Dumfries hated the mud. He couldn't stand getting dirty. Every morning while his siblings and friends wrestled in the pen, Oliver would sit in the small shed on a pile of clean hay, grooming himself.

"Hey Oliver!" yelled one of his cousins. "Come on over for a game of 'steal the rutabaga'! You can be on my team."

"Humph!" Oliver replied with his snout in the air. "I don't have time for games. And besides, you all look so silly when you're filthy."

Another time, his older brother Reginald asked him to join in a mud bath. "You can't just sit in the shed for the rest of your life. Come on out with us! The mud is so soothing!"

"You don't see any other animals on the farm rolling around in the mud, do you?" Oliver snorted. "Take Fluffy the Cat, for example. He spends hours licking his fur till it shines with perfection. And he still has time to take naps in the sun. Then of course there's Riley the Rooster. Such class! Such strut! Very popular with the hens. The secret? Preening. Grooming. Poise. I'm sorry to say it, but your personal presentation needs serious work, Reginald."

His brother's eyes narrowed. "Fluffy doesn't have any friends and Riley is a loudmouth. You're a pig, Oliver. And if you keep living like something else, you're gonna miss out on all the fun in life." With a flick of his spiraled tail, Reginald wallowed toward the other pigs.

Oliver stuck his snout in the air and sniffed. "What a boarish brother I have," he said to himself.

Weeks passed and soon all the other piglets got tired of asking Oliver to join them in their games. Oliver's disgust with his comrades grew more potent each day. "How dumb and dirty they are," he thought. "The other animals must think we're all crazy. But I don't act like that. My family is so embarrassing. Why am I the only one with principles?"

The next morning, an intriguing visitor came to the farm. He was tall, intelligent, perfectly groomed, and had a green waistcoat, plaid vest, and a bushy red tail. Oliver had never seen such a handsome creature. Catching the lone, pink pig's eye, the clever visitor sauntered toward the corner of the pigpen. All the other pigs were too occupied to notice.

"Good afternoon," said the clean-cut gentleman. "My, I've never seen such a handsome pig before."

Oliver blushed at the compliment. Finally, someone understood him! "My name is Oliver. Oliver Dumfries."

"My name is Foxworthy. Jacob Foxworthy. And you are just the kind of pig I've been looking for!"

"Really?" Oliver asked.

"Why yes! You see, I am a tailor, and I've designed several outfits for the more fashionable among animals. I have a suit here that would fit you quite nicely, I believe." Jacob Foxworthy produced a leather bag, out of which he drew a pair of blue trousers, a white collared shirt, red knee-high socks, brown shoes, and a leather cap.

"These are beautiful!" Oliver gasped. "How much will you sell them for?"

"Oh, not for much. Just a dozen eggs and a bottle of cream."

"You want me to steal from the other animals?!" exclaimed Oliver.

"I didn't say that. I just listed my price. If you want the outfit, I'll meet you here at midnight. But I'm a very busy person. I must be off after that. So if you're not ready, I'll offer these clothes to someone more civilized."

Oliver gulped. He didn't want to take something that belonged to someone else. But the clothes looked so beautiful...

Princess Lavender (Part 2 of 2)

Prince Ian knocked on the huge wooden door of the castle. A royal guard showed him to the throneroom to see Princess Lavender. The princess smiled a half-smile at his arrival. Although she was flattered to have yet another suitor, she knew too well that he probably wouldn't stick around for long.

"Good morning, sir," she said with a hint of sadness. "Have you journeyed from afar, young prince?"

Prince Ian bowed and yawned, "No, mylady. I am Prince Ian - Ian Somnia from the kingdom of Celere. It only took about two days of riding to get here."

The prince rubbed his eyes and Princess Lavender noticed that they were red. Although the prince's attire was regal enough, he appeared somewhat disheveled. It looked like he hadn't slept in days. Prince Ian noticed her gaze and bowed a second time.

"Pray, excuse my fatigued appearance this morning, Princess Lavender. As I mentioned, I am from the kingdom of Celere and we grow a very potent tea in that land. 'Celeri-tea,' we call it. Anyway, after years of drinking the stuff, I've developed an ineptitude for sleep that makes my mornings frightfully tiresome until I have another cup, that is. The whole thing forms a beastly cycle. I do apologize."

At this, Princess Lavender's eyes lit up. Perhaps this was the prince she'd been waiting for.

"Why don't we go for a walk in the royal garden?" she asked, and the two went out of the castle toward the walking path.

As you may have guessed, Princess Lavender and Prince Ian hit it off famously. They talked for hours amid the rose bushes and daffodils. They ate dinner together in the lavish hall. Prince Ian introduced himself to the King, and all in all things couldn't have gone better.

Eventually, it was time for the princess to go to bed and, as was the custom, she kissed the prince on the cheek before saying goodnight. Prince Ian smiled, closed his eyes and sunk to the floor. And, as was the custom, two guards came to hoist the snoring prince off to the guestroom.

That week was the longest week Princess Lavender could ever remember. She paced through the long corridors. She barely ate supper. Day in and day out her thoughts focused on one question: when he awoke, would Prince Ian ride off into the sunset with her or without?

Finally, the fateful day arrived. As a result of her nervous tossings and turnings during the night, Princess Lavender slept right through the morning breakfast bell. Her maid gently greeted her a few hours afterward.

"Princess, are you ill?" the white-aproned girl inquired.

"No! I mean, uh, what time is it?" the groggy princess asked.

"Why, it is half past ten mylady."

"Oh no," said the princess, her eyes growing wide. "Is Prince Ian still here? Did he go or did he stay?"she asked in near panic.

"I believe he left early this morning, mylady."

"REALLY?" the princess exclaimed in a voice louder than she'd anticipated. The maid froze in surprise at the outburst.

"Yes, mylady. Would you like your breakfast this morning?" she asked.

Princess Lavender tried to swallow back her tears. "No," she said flatly. "I don't have much of an appetite at the moment."

"Very well, your highness," said the maid as she left the room.

Princess Lavender burst into tears the second she was alone. She felt the sting of a hundred rejections afresh and could no longer control her emotion. "I really thought this one would stay," she lamented. "If I had known this, I wouldn't have wasted my time."

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Go away please, I don't feel like meeting any new princes today," the soggy princess answered.

"Well, what about an old one?" a familiar voice asked.

Princess Lavender gasped. There in the doorway stood Prince Ian looking remarkably rested and handsome. "I'm sorry to have worried you, princess. But I left this morning to pick you these," Prince Ian explained as he presented her with a bouquet of wildflowers.

Princess Lavender dabbed her eyes and smiled. "You mean, you didn't want to get as far away from me as your steed would carry you?"

"Are you joking? Last night I had the best sleep I've had in years!"

Princess Lavender's heart sank."That's only because the night lasted for a whole week. Haven't you heard about my curse? Everytime I kiss a prince, he sleeps for an entire week. You don't want to sleep the rest of your life away, do you?"

The prince thought for a few seconds, then said, "Princess, I haven't felt this rested in a long time. It's wonderful. And I would be willing to spend the rest of my life sleeping by your side if that's the only way I could receive your kiss."

Princess Lavender threw her arms around the prince (careful not to kiss him yet as this conversation wasn't finished). The prince smiled warmly and then released his embrace. "I've got it!" he nearly shouted.

"Got what?" the princess asked.

"Have you ever put the power of your curse up against the power of celeri-tea?"

"Why no!" Princess Lavender replied. "You know, that tea just might do the trick!"



Well, not too much time passed before the prince and princess were married. As the bishop pronounced the happy couple "man and wife," Prince Ian kissed his bride and fell happily asleep at her feet. Within minutes, a cup of steaming hot celeri-tea was brought to his lips. Sure enough, the prince was back on his feet in time for the first dance.

So thus it was that every night Princess Lavender would kiss her husband happily to sleep. And every morning she would wake him up with a cup of tea. And with such a cheerful schedule it's little wonder that the two of them lived happily ever after.

Princess Lavender (Part 1 of 2)

We've all heard the story of Sleeping Beauty. You know, that gal who got cursed by a witch and slept in a castle tower until Prince Charming woke her up with a kiss. What is little known, however, is that Sleeping Beauty actually had a cousin named Princess Lavender who had her own curse to reckon with.

In many regards these two princesses were very similar. They were both beautiful. They were both kind. And they both wanted to marry the prince of their dreams. But unlike Sleeping Beauty, Princess Lavender had a harder time finding her true love.

It wasn't because the princes weren't interested. Young men would come from miles around to court the princess and ask for her hand. Her Father, King Ferdinand, even offered half the gold in his treasury as a matrimonial inducement. But invariably, the princes would ride home in a huff without so much as a second date.

What was wrong with the Princess to make her so undesirable? Well, no one could tell at first, but soon a pattern emerged that gave everyone in the royal family great alarm (which is probably why you never heard about it from Sleeping Beauty). Prince X would be shone to the throne room, introduce himself, and then take Princess Lavendar for a ride in the forest or a walk in the garden. Then came dinner, dessert, and the evening entertainment. Everything went just fine until the kiss goodnight.

You see, while Sleeping Beauty was cursed to a semi-eternal slumber until her true love's kiss, Princess Lavender's kiss invariably cursed its recipient to a week in bed.

"Royal Butler!" she'd call from the doorway, "It happened again!" At this, the butler, along with two or three guards (depending upon the size of the suitor) would hoist the sleeping prince to a large guest bedroom (that often housed other slumbering princes from the nights before). A week later, the prince would wake up, shake the cobwebs from his head, and run for the door as quickly as possible (without saying goodbye, this time).

Princess Lavender would sigh and then sit on her throne until another prince was shown in. As the months turned into years, the princes showed up less and less often. The little princess grew quite despondent for it seemed she would never get married, or if she did it would have to be to someone who was too respulsive to kiss.

But all that changed the day Prince Ian knocked on the door...

Dr. Hickerup (Part 3 of 3)

Billy peered into the room and soon his jaw dropped wide.
He stared and blinked in disbelief while Doctor gazed with pride.
Attached onto a cushioned chair was a monstrous machine
With pipes and dials everywhere, more than he’d ever seen!

Inside a globe upon the top, electric bolts were flashing.
And through the gears the boy could hear a generator crashing.
It filled the room with all its bulk of chords and coil unending.
Billy’s eyes then caught a sign that read: “It’s Patent Pending.”

The young boy turned to face the doc and said, “You must be nuts!
If you think I’m sitting in that chair, be sure I’ll raise a fuss!
I’ll tell my parents! Call a lawyer! File for malpractice!
And I’ll show them just how phony all your hiccup-healing act is!

I’ve opened doors, had all your cures, drank medicine, got scared,
Blew that crazy horn, got tickled… Boy, how I have fared!
And yet for all your promises, no miracle has happened.
That’s it! I quit! I’m going home! I’ll come back for my refund.”

The doctor stood there silently while Billy had his say.
But when the boy concluded then, he yelled, “Hip, Hip Hurray!
I am a genius! Yes I am! I knew Door Five would work.
When patients see that great machine, they tend to go berserk!
But happily, (now thanks to me), while you were prattling on,
You failed to notice one key thing! Your hiccups- They are gone!

Bill could scarce believe it. Could it honestly be true?
Could his unhappy hiccup problems finally be through?
He glanced back toward the doctor, and counted one to ten.
But as the doc predicted, the hiccups did not come again.

“You did it Doctor! Now I’m cured! You’re truly a magician!”
“All in a nine-to-five day’s work,” said the gratified physician.
“I’m glad you liked my fancy cures. So far, they’ve never failed.
“Don’t worry about thanking me- your bill will soon be mailed.”

Billy shook the Doctor’s hand and grinned from ear to ear.
It was so peaceful breathing now, with no hiccups to fear.
Now problem free, to home with glee the happy Billy ran.
All thanks to Dr. Hickerup, the hiccup-healing man.

Dr. Hickerup (Part 2 of 3)

The room behind the second door was not to Billy’s liking.
Inside stood a group of beasts with teeth and claws quite frightening.
Some had seven legs at least while others, none at all.
Some were just the size of cats, while others were quite tall.
“Boo!” a furry creature yelled mere inches from Bill’s ear.
“Hiccup! Hiccup!” the young boy cried. So much for using fear.
“I just don’t get it,” said the Doc. “That cure sure works for me.”
“I didn’t like that room a bit.” “That’s why we’ll try Door Three.”

Behind the third door on a stand an odd contraption sat.
It was a brass-like instrument with knobs for sharps and flats.
“This is my own invention- the Flimeyblimahphone.
I’m proud to say (for most, anyway) it cures when it is blown.
No music knowledge needed, just stand and take a breath.
And if we have a dash of luck, there’ll be no hiccups left.”

Billy sauntered toward the horn and filled his lungs with air.
He blew so loudly on it though, it frizzled all his hair.
“My, my,” the doctor then observed, “what powerful lungs you’ve got!
Perhaps the hiccups now are gone?” “HICCUP!” Bill sighed, “They’re not.”

“Now don’t you worry,” said the doc. “And don’t despair, dear child.
I’ve got cure behind door four that’s bound to make you smile.”
Billy nodded, but said nothing, having a sad hunch
That he’d have hiccups forever and he should go home for lunch.
“I’m hungry,” said the sickly boy, “and should be home by noon.”
“Never fear,” the doc said. “Here’s the cure! We’ll be done soon.”

Inside the forth door, what a sight! Four peacocks stood encircled
With feathers gleaming blue and bright and tails of green and purple.
“This cure just takes a minute, and I’ve got my watch right here.
Just stand inside the circle and prepare to laugh to tears!”
Billy stood amid the flock, looked toward the Doc and nodded.
The doctor started his wrist clock as peacocks’ feathers prodded.

They poked, they stroked, they tickled Bill and drove the young lad silly.
He laughed, he cried, he split his sides. They all had fun- but Billy.
At the end of sixty seconds when the feathers finally stopped,
Doctor Hickerup then strode to where the boy had flopped.
“Well, did it work?” the doctor asked. “Have they finally gone away?”
“Perhaps…(HICCUP). Oh, never mind,” was all the child could say.

“I have one final cure, dear boy, when hiccups are their worst.
It’s never failed a patient (though your case may be the first).
Years of ingenuity made this dream come alive.
So come my son, don’t dally now. Let’s go behind Door Five.”

Dr. Hickerup (Part 1 of 3)

Billy got the hiccups on one dull and dreary day,
And try although he might they simply would not go away.
The hiccups made poor Billy bleat like some sad little goat.
Passersby would stare and pry, “You got frogs in that throat?”

When the hiccups grew so mighty that the boy could hardly stand,
Billy went to Dr. Hickerup- the hiccup healing man.
The doc was famous in the town for all his fancy cures.
Eccentric, yes, but patients found they got hiccups no more.

Billy stood upon tiptoe to ring the office bell.
“Step inside,” the doc replied. “We’re going to get you well.”
Dr. Hickerup was lean and stood about six feet.
He saw the child, waved and smiled and said, “Have a seat.”

“Are you allergic?” asked the doc. The boy then hiccupped, “Nope.”
“Great,” said Dr. Hickerup as he grabbed the stethoscope.
“HICCUP” the sad, sick child hicked before the doc could start.
He listened to the young boy’s chest and sighed, “You’re off the chart.”
“What shall I do?” poor Billy cried. “Well now, are you insured?”
“I think I am,” the lad replied. “Then soon you shall be cured!”

The doctor took the child’s hand and led him cross the floor
Beyond the tiled waiting room to a hall with five big doors.
“Behind these doors,” the doctor said as he waved a latexed hand,
“Are my best cures. Some strange, scary, simple, silly, and grand.
As it’s your first time visiting, let’s start with something fun.”
Billy took a big deep breath as the doc opened Door One.

And what a scene met Billy’s eyes as the door now stood ajar:
A giraffe of quite enormous size was on some monkey bars!
“Hiccup!” the young lad hicked again. “Now how will this help me?”
“Why don’t you go and play?” Doc said. “And then drink this and see?”

So Billy swung on monkey bars and hung upon the neck
Of the most obliging giraffe at hand, the nicest one he’d met.
Eventually, he got thirsty and hanging upside down
He sipped and sipped the watery mix while trying not to drown.
The medicine poured down his throat but failed to cure the youth.
“It didn’t (HICCUP) work,” he said. The doctor sighed, “Door Two.”

TUNE IN NEXT MONDAY FOR PART TWO