The Pig Who Loved Mud Wrestling: A Fable

Long ago, a young boar named Bart went to a Swine Party. In villages and towns throughout the land, a Swine Party—usually held in a large barn—is where young single pigs went to meet.

As soon as Bart walked through the front door of the barn, one sow standing alone in the corner caught his eye. She had pink ears, a pink snout, a perky pink tail, and she was wearing a pretty pink dress. Her name was Wilma.

Bart walked up to her and asked, “Will you dance with me? You’re the prettiest pig I’ve ever seen!”

Her heart racing, Wilma blushed and said, “Sure I will!”

Then Bart walked her to the dance floor.

In the center of the barn, a three-boar band was playing hillbilly music with a banjo, fiddle, and drums. A dance floor encircled the band, and dozens of sows and boars were stomping and swinging to the beat.

After dancing for seven straight songs, Bart and Wilma were sweating from head to hoof.

“I need to take a break,” Bart said, out of breath.

“Okay,” Wilma laughed. “You sit down, but I’m just getting started!”

Bart sat on a bench beside several other boars, and watched Wilma dance, shaking her body and stomping her hooves on the dance floor.

After that night, nature took its course, and six months later, Bart and Wilma got married.

For their honeymoon, Bart took Wilma to a resort with hot springs and mud baths. On their first night, when they were sitting up to their necks in mud, Wilma said, “Ever since I was a little pig, I’ve wanted to be a mother.”

Bart smiled and said slyly, “Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted to make some little piggies!” And then he grabbed Wilma, carried her out of the mud bath, and took her to their mud hut.

When they returned from their honeymoon, Wilma and Bart bought a barn just outside their village. It was a small barn with four bedrooms and a loft, but big enough for them to start a family.

Bart had a job in a corn mill, grinding corn with his feet ten hours a day. Wilma stayed at home, made the meals and planted a garden. Three months after they were married, she gave birth to twelve healthy piglets.

Bart and Wilma were a happy family. Bart worked hard and was promoted to boss-hog. Five years went by, and their piglets became full-grown. And then, as all young pigs must eventually do, they moved out, got married, and lived in their own barns.

The day after the last pig left, Wilma said sadly, “Our barn feels so empty without our little piglets.”

“I know,” Bart sighed. “What’s life all about? What’s the meaning?”

Wilma thought for a moment and said, “We’ll both grow old together, go for long walks, and enjoy each other’s company.”

“Yes,” Bart said, forcing a smile. “Until death do a pig part.” But in his heart, that didn’t sound very exciting.

One Friday after work, Bart was walking home, when Fred, a boar he worked with, caught up with him. Fred was middle-aged and divorced.

“Hey, Bart! You want to go to mud wrestling tonight?”

Bart shook his head. “I don’t think Wilma would approve.”

“She doesn’t need to know. Just make up an excuse.”

Bart thought it over and grinned. “What the heck? Every boar deserves to have a little fun now and again.”

Fred slapped Bart on the back. “You got that right! You won’t be the same pig after tonight.”

Bart went home, and after supper, he told Wilma: “I’m going to play cards tonight with Fred and some of the boars from work.”

“Okay,” Wilma said. “But please be home by eleven. You know I get worried if you’re out too late.”

“I’ll be home on time,” Bart promised, and then he and Wilma rubbed their snouts together.

After dinner, Bart met up with Fred at a place called The Mud Pie. It was a sand pit with a large pool of mud in the center and stadium seating on one side. A hundred other boars were there, and most of them were drinking swill. Fred bought tickets for the front row, and Bart bought two bottles of hogwash from the canteen.

Not long after Fred and Bart sat down, a massive boar, holding a hammer, struck a bronze gong beside the pool of mud, and the first match began. Two young sows came out of separate tents in the corner of the pit. They were both very beautiful, had shaved bodies, and weren’t wearing any clothes.

Fred said excitedly, “Look at the ham on the short one! Oh, yeah!”

“I like the tall one better,” Bart blurted. “I love her thick shanks!”

The two sows walked around the pool of mud, taunting each other with angry stares, and when they wiggled their rumps, all the boars roared.

The two young sows pushed, slapped, and tried to trip each other until they both fell down and rolled around in the mud. Each sow scored a point when they pinned their opponent. The match lasted for a half an hour, and Bart enjoyed every minute of it. He felt like a young boar again, grunting and squealing at the top of his lungs.

After that, there were three more matches. When the wrestling was over, Bart thanked Fred for inviting him and hurried home to Wilma.

He found her sitting on the bench in the living room, pigging out on a bowl of buttered corn. “Did you have a good time with your boar friends?” she asked.

“I sure did!” Bart said, his face beaming.

Then he grabbed Wilma, and tried to pick her up, but she was too heavy. So, offering her his forearm, he walked her to the bedroom, and they made wild pig love.

The weeks went by, and every Friday, Bart went with Fred to mud wrestling. One night, after he got home, he said to Wilma: “I think we should start exercising.”

Wilma asked, “Why? Do you think I’m fat?”

Bart and Wilma’s jowls had tripled in size since they first met. They were both fat pigs.

“Not at all,” Bart replied. “But we’re getting older. If we don’t exercise, we might get — heart disease.”

Wilma exploded in anger. “I work hard in the garden, walk to the market every day, and you think I’m a fat, lazy pig! I hate you!”

Bart tried to stay calm. “That’s not what I said, Wilma.”

“That’s what you’re thinking.” Then Wilma started crying, ran to the bedroom, and locked the door.

No matter what Bart said, Wilma wouldn’t change her mind. She didn’t want to exercise, and she got angry every time Bart suggested it.

So Bart exercised on his own. He lifted sacks of corn, lost a lot of weight, and became really buff.

The weeks went by, and Bart continued to go to mud wrestling with Fred. One Friday, after the final match, he was about to go home when Sally Strong—the number-one wrestler—sashayed up to him. She wore a beautiful red dress, and reminded him of Wilma when she was younger.

“Hi there,” Sally said. “I see you here every week.”

“I come to see you!” Bart said with a big grin. “You’re an amazing wrestler.”

“You should be a wrestler. You’ve got the muscles for it.”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” Bart said offhandedly, “but I’m happy doing what I’m doing.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a boss-hog at the corn mill.”

“I like a boar who can command other boars,” Sally said, fluttering her eyes.

“I am a powerful pig!” Bart boasted. “Look at these.” And then he flexed his muscles.

Sally giggled. “Ooh! My tail is wiggling!”

Bart and Sally talked for a while, and then she asked, “Do you want to get a glass of swill?”

“Sure I do!” Bart said with a big grin.

They went to the Wild Boar Inn, sat at the bar, and drank several glasses of swill. Then, at one in the morning, Bart realized how late it was.

“Whoa, I gotta go!”

“Oh,” Sally said, disappointed. “Will I see you again?”

“Maybe. Probably. I’m not sure.” And then Bart put money on the table and ran home.

When he unlocked the barn door, Wilma was sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in a blanket. “Where were you?!” she asked angrily.

“I—uh… Fred and I had a few glasses of swill at the Wild Boar.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes, what did you think I was doing?”

Wilma frowned. “You can sleep in the loft tonight.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what you deserve—for being so inconsiderate.”

Then Wilma trotted to the bedroom and locked the door.

The next morning, Bart and Wilma didn’t eat breakfast together, and when Bart came home after work, they barely talked to each other.

That night, he decided he would sleep again in the loft.

“I think I’ll sleep better tonight if I have my own bed,” he explained to Wilma. “I’m getting older, and I toss and turn from sore muscles.”

Wilma sighed. “Sleep wherever you want.”

For the rest of the week, Bart continued to sleep in the loft. Then on Friday, after the first wrestling match at The Mud Pie, he said to Fred: “I’ve got to be honest with Wilma.”

“Are you crazy? She’ll kick you out of the barn. That’s what my wife did.”

Bart shook his head. “I’m not going to tell her about mud wrestling.”

“What are you going to tell her?”

Bart didn’t answer Fred. He got up and left, and as soon as he got home, he went into Wilma’s bedroom. She was sitting on the bed in her pink pajamas, reading a book.

“You’re home early,” she said.

“Wilma, I’ve decided something.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“I want to live on my own.”

“What?!” Wilma said, her face stricken. “Why?”

“We’ve grown apart. I don’t love you anymore.”

“You’re seeing another sow!” Wilma yelled. “Who is she?”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Bart said, and then he left the room and packed his things in a sack.

Before Bart left, he went back to Wilma’s bedroom and said, “I’ll send you some money—until you can make it on your own.”

“I don’t need anything from you!” Wilma said with contempt, but after Bart was gone, she broke down and cried.

The next day, Bart rented a small barn; he started seeing Sally, and he soon discovered that she was totally different than Wilma.

Bart and Wilma often went for walks in the woods, but Sally liked to run through the fields and wrestle with him, and he got a sore back.

On weekends, Bart and Wilma went to bed at midnight, but Sally liked to drink swill until sunrise, and Bart felt exhausted when he went to work on Monday.

When Bart got home from work, Wilma always had a hot supper waiting for him—corn, potatoes, or onions—but Sally didn’t know how to cook, so they went to a cook-house to eat.

Although Sally earned a lot of money as a wrestler, she wasn’t a smart shopper like Wilma, and didn’t save anything. She often asked Bart if he could buy her new clothes.

The weeks went by, and Bart woke up one morning and realized how much he missed Wilma. So that same day after work, he went to see her and knocked on her door.

Wilma opened the door and said calmly, “Hello, Bart.”

“Hi, Wilma,” Bart replied, and then he just stood there, not knowing what to say.

“Is there something you want?” Wilma finally asked.

“Wilma, I made a mistake.” Bart said sadly. “I love you, and I’d like to come back. Will you forgive me?”

Wilma frowned. “It’s too late for that.”

An old boar with white hair came to the door and put his arm around Wilma.

“Bart,” Wilma said. “This is William.”

Bart was shocked. “You have a boar-friend?”

“Yes,” Wilma said with a smile. “We met a month ago.”

“At a Senior’s Swine Party,” William said.

“But he’s old,” Bart said, wide-eyed.

“Yes; and I’m fat,” Wilma said.

“She makes me feel young again,” William said with a big grin. “She’s full of energy and spunk.”

Bart couldn’t argue with that. So he left, went back to his barn, and asked Sally to move in with him. Day after day, he tried to change her, but she was who she was.

And six months later, Wilma married William, an old boar who loved her just as she was.

Published in The Donkey King and Other Stories