The Miniature Laughing Pig

“Hey, you hear that noise? That strange grunting chortle, squealing sound,” asked Dave.

“I do hear it. It’s my miniature laughing pig,” said Andy.

Andy held out his left hand and roaming about his palm was the smallest pig Dave had ever seen. It wasn’t microscopic, but it was terribly tiny.

“A miniature laughing pig,” asked Dave, “where in the world did you get it?”

“The genie,” said Andy.

“The genie,” asked Dave.

Andy was carefully holding his breath over the miniature laughing pig in his palm. Dave looked at Andy, at Andy looking at the pig, and then back to Andy.

“Are you going to elaborate on the whole Genie thing,” asked Dave.

“Hmm?… Oh, right, the Genie. It was a guy over on 11^th street, you know, that weird homeless guy but he has a lot of gold rings on his fingers. Like every finger has a ring on it, but he looks like he’s been living out of a refrigerator box for the last 20 years? Yeah, that guy is a genie,” said Andy.

Dave ran his hands across his face, dragging them slowly down, pulling his mouth open into a silent sort of bored and confused scream.

“A homeless genie gave you a miniature laughing pig,” said Dave.

“Yup. Isn’t it the greatest,” asked Andy.

“Yeah, great,” said Dave, “I, uh…still have some questions.”

“Sure, sure, ask away,” said Andy.

The miniature laughing pig continued to root and snort its way across Andy’s open palm. Every so often it would emit a miniature squeal as if it had found something of great joy to behold.

“So remember when I asked you if you wanted to meet me out at the bar for a drink tonight and you said you would be happy to,” asked Dave.

“Yeah,” Said Andy.

“Why didn’t you mention then that you had come across a genie or had been given a miniature laughing pig,” asked Dave.

“I figured I’d tell you later,” said Andy, “Plus it seemed like you really needed to talk about something that was bothering you so I didn’t want to be a distraction.”

Dave took a sip from his bottle of beer. Andy carefully took a sip from his own and then poured a tiny drop into his palm, near the miniature laughing pig.

“Okay, I understand that. You’re a good friend, but, like… what did you wish for from the genie that you wound up with a miniature laughing pig,” asked Dave.

“I didn’t actually wish for anything. He just seemed down on his luck so I gave him like, the $1.86 I had in my pocket. He seemed really grateful when he grabbed my arm and then put this miniature laughing pig in my hand. He let me go, he smiled and he ran off. I’ve had the pig since then,” said Andy.

“So, when was that encounter,” asked Dave.

“I dunno, probably like, a month ago,” said Andy.

The miniature laughing pig did sound like it was laughing as it sipped from the small drop of beer in Andy’s palm. It sounded like a miniature version of joy.

“A month,” exclaimed Dave.

“Yeah, about a month,” said Andy.

“Have you seen the genie guy since then,” asked Dave.

“Naw. I think he got like, a job,” said Andy.

Dave watched the miniature laughing pig make little jumps from one part of Andy’s palm to the other.

“His little hooves tickle my hand,” smiled Andy.

“I imagine they would,” said Dave.

Andy and Dave watched the miniature pig leap and twist, turn and jump, stroll and roll, and heard his little laugh as it trotted up and down Andy’s palm.

“I mean, I guess it is pretty neat,” said Dave.

“Yeah, I’m pretty happy with him,” said Andy.

“He’s kinda cute and all,” said Dave.

“Yeah. So, what is it you wanted to talk about? What was bothering you,” asked Andy.

Dave looked away from the miniature laughing pig and up at the big neon lit back wall of the bar. He scratched his scruffy chin and took another sip from his beer bottle.

“You know what, I can’t remember at all. Your miniature laughing pig has made it all seem somehow…, better,” smiled Dave.

“Glad I could help,” said Andy.

They cheered their beer bottles and ordered another round as a miniature laughing pig frolicked in Andy’s open palm.