Ferdinand's wet dream.

Hello. What’s this? Three pork chops are dancing a chorus line against a full moon sky. The more they dance the more they sweat. Perspiration drips sizzling aromatic drops to the ground.
Fifi appears juggling and dancing. She sprouts angel wings flies up, and joins the troop of performing pork.

I’m ravenous. My mother’s nipple is swollen and raw.
“Teeth Ferdinand, stop biting!” She grips me by the scruff her tongue warm and wet on the back of my neck.

Huge bare hands are tugging my tail. My mother is shouting, my brother is crying.

I’m yanked out and away.

“Ah e’s so sweet!”
“Savva a look, bloomin’ carrot with legs.”

“My mother is calling me.”
“Mum.” I cry.

I can hear my mother but her calls are fainter now.
“Mum.”
I’m annoyed and scared why doesn’t she come? Why doesn’t she carry me home held gently and firmly in her secure mouth?
She’s doesn’t answer me.
Why won’t she answer me?
“Muuuuuuuuuuuuuum.”

“Ouch that hurt that’s my ear you’re pulling. MUUUUUM.”

“You can’t take ‘im home.”
“I can.”
“Well if you do dad’ll drown ‘im.”
“What?”
“E’ll drown him in a bucket.”
“I’ll ‘ide ‘im.”

“MMMMUUUUUMM.”
“With the racket ‘e makes?”

“Look leave him in there; that telephone box. “
“MMMMUUUUUMM, MMMMUUUUUMM, MMMMUUUUUMM.”
“Ferdinand.”
“Ferdinand.”
“Ferdinand wake up. Ferdinand stop crying it wasn’t that bad was it? ...just a little blue pipette. How you can tell when you’re asleep.... honestly! Here’s a little pork scrap might cheer you up a bit. Honestly anybody would think it was the end of the world!”

Ferdinand: free from fleas