| Yoshi. |
[Sep. 30th, 2004|09:46 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sad | ] |
Yoshi died today.
She was over seven years old, has cysts, was blind and deaf and had been showing signs of heart failure over the last few days.
Slave 1 says she's over the Rainbow Bridge now, with Squeak, Scruffy, Dizzy and Woolly Bear, and that they're all causing mayhem together. She says that one day, we will all be together forever.
We love you Yo-yo. Rest in peace, precious old lady. |
|
|
| Welcome Bilbo! |
[Sep. 30th, 2004|09:36 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  happy | ] |
I have a new friend! He's tiny! He's so tiny he still has his umbilical cord stump. He's a pink eyed ginger satin piggy. He was so tiny, I had to teach him how to use the water bottle. He was 3 oz when he moved in, a week later he's a pudgy 9ozer! He squeals a lot but I love him. Even if he does sit in the middle of the dinner bowl.
I wash him a lot, but I think it annoys him because after a while he runs into his box. His box has a hole that's too small for me to get into, so if he wants to get away from me he can. But I don't bully him, which is why Slave 2 put it in here, in case I did.
Slave 2 named him after some character off a film. |
|
|
| Graffiti.......by Pig Slave 1 |
[Sep. 9th, 2004|09:09 pm] |
Mr Parrish was an intimidating man even when he was trying to be friendly, but now, as he stood on the stage before the school assembly, he was positively terrifying.
His voice boomed around the hall, drowning the students and vibrating through the trophy cabinet. Some said it even rattled the windows.
"Someone" he bellowed, "defaced the cubicle in the boys' toilets". Parrish paused for effect and gazed around the hall. "Offensive FILTH".
Suddenly he heard a snigger. Muted, but definitely a snigger. Parrish's eyes went instantly to the back left hand corner of the hall. Same kids every time. "Michaels - Johnson - care to enlighten the rest of us as to what is so amusing?" He eyed the two fifth formers disparagingly. They, to their credit, had the grace to look sheepish and avert their gaze to the floor.
The minute assembly was dismissed, the rumours began. Some said that the graffiti had implied Parrish was "friendly" with the new young Maths teacher. Others said it referred to Parrish's hair, or rather, lack of.
But one thing was for sure - it had certainly got old Parrish's back up.
That day, there had never been so many requests to leave class, as boy after boy after boy made his way to the toilets, hoping to determine for himself exactly what the graffiti said. They were disappointed, however, as there was nothing to be seen but a freshly sanded and painted area of cubicle wall.
The next day, Parrish was in an apoplectic rage. Little droplets of saliva splattered the first years as he howled with anger. From close range, the veins in his forehead were seen to bulge.
The pupils were stunned - they had never seen him so irate. This was far bigger than the smoking episode, and even outranked the defacing library books caper.
"When I catch" he raged "the hooligan responsible for this travesty - there will be HELL to pay."
Once more, all traces of the graffiti had been removed, as Matthews, a small first year student found out. "Might as well go while I'm here" he thought to himself, and sat down in a cubicle.
Suddenly, from the next cubicle, he heard a scratching noise.
"Anyone there?" he called out. No answer. The scratching noise stopped. Matthews went back to his daydream of playing centre-half for Chelsea and the scratching began again.
Matthews climbed onto the toilet, and peered over into the next cubicle. There was nobody there. Terrified, Matthews flew out of his cubicle and ran back to his classroom, flinging the classroom door open with a bang.
"Come in, Matthews", said his teacher sarcastically. The class collectively sniggered, glad of any opportunity to down pens.
"Sir" began Matthews.
"The floor is yours" replied the teacher.
"Sir" Matthews continued - "Sir, I think the toilets are haunted!!"
"Nonsense" said the teacher. "What on earth gives you that impression?"
Matthews described the scratching noises, emphasising that the cubicle was definitely empty, but the teacher just laughed. "Too many late night horror films" he said. "Probably nothing more than mice. It's an old school. Bound to be a few mice in the walls, under the floorboards and so on. Back to work, everyone."
The ghost story spread. Tales of headless horsemen, Grey Ladies, and chain-wearing phantoms abounded. One wit went so far as to suggest "we should get that Derek Acorah bloke off the telly in" 'E'll sort it"
By the end of that day, there were so many tales, each more terrifying than the last, that no boy could be persuaded to use those toilets, preferring to walk all the way to the other side of school to the shower block.
As Matthews was about to go home, Mr Parrish stopped him. "I hear you've heard scratching noises in the lavatories" he said. "Y-yes sir" stammered Matthews.
"See anyone, did you?" enquired the headmaster. "Or were you too busy vandalising the cubicle wall to notice where the sound came from?" Matthews stared at Mr Parrish, aghast. "Sir" he said. "I haven't vandalised anything, Honest."
The headmaster eyed him. "Quite sure about that, are we Matthews?" he boomed.
Yes sir" said the scared Matthews. "I haven't written anything on the walls, I promise."
A strange look came over the headmasters face. He gazed at the boy for a couple of minutes. "Ok" said Mr Parrish. "On your way then David. But if I find you've been lying….." he trailed off, menacingly.
That night, Matthews had a nightmare. He was locked in the toilet, with scratching and wailing and banging coming from every angle. He woke, screaming, sweat pouring down his brow. He was still shaking when his dad, awoken by the shouting, came into his bedroom. "What's up son?" asked his dad. "Bit old for nightmares, aren't we?"
Matthews told his dad about the toilets and the strange scratching sound he had heard. Mr Matthews sat on the bed and looked at his son. "You know that I used to go to your school, when I was your age." he said. "Old Parrish was just as bad then. In fact, he bullied one young lad so much; the poor kid hanged himself in the toilet block."
His son stared at him, aghast. "What - really killed himself? Honestly?" His dad nodded. "Parrish's career nearly ended over that. He was lucky not to get fired, but the Education Authority couldn't prove anything. He was a nice young lad too" mused Mr Matthews. "Quiet. Name of Morris, if memory serves. Paul Morris"
Mr Matthews ruffled his son's hair. "Come on David, back to sleep" he said. "School tomorrow."
The following morning, Assembly was back to normal. Mundane, boring school stuff. School trips. Sweet wrappers in the playground. The talk of ghosts had died down, and gossip had been replaced by chatter of the forthcoming school trip.
In his third lesson, Matthews asked for permission to use the toilets. The teacher gave permission, but added that as the girls netball team were currently using the shower block, David would need to use the "haunted" toilets.
David chose a different cubicle from the one he had used the previous day, just to be on the safe side. Imagine his horror when he heard the familiar scratching sound. Cold sweat coursing down his back, he decided to brave the fear and leaving his cubicle, he approached the closed door from behind which the scratching emanated.
Bending down to look underneath the door, David was not surprised to see that the cubicle was again, empty. Yet still the scratching nose was heard.
Suddenly, the main door from the corridor opened and David spun around to see the formidable figure of Parrish. The headmaster opened his mouth, but not a word came out. He froze, his eyes transfixed upon the closed door. David knew he wasn't imagining the noise. The headmaster could hear it too.
Without warning, Parrish kicked the cubicle door open. There was nobody there. The scratching stopped instantly. Headmaster and pupil saw the graffiti at the same moment.
Carved roughly into the wall were the words "I hate Parri" followed by a half formed letter S. Evidently something - or someone - had been disturbed before they could finish the word.
Matthews and Mr Parrish saw the knife at the same time. Both bent down to pick it up, and Parrish got to it first. It was a Swiss Army knife, and, scratched into the blade were the words "property of Paul Morris." |
|
|
| YAY! |
[Sep. 7th, 2004|03:44 pm] |
I GOT A CARROT FOR SUPPER LAST NIGHT! YAY!
love,
Piglet. xx |
|
|
| Carrots. |
[Sep. 6th, 2004|11:14 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  gloomy | ] |
I want carrots. Not had carrots for days and days. I do hope we get carrots soon. Carrots *may* contribute towards liver disease if taken in excess. But I do love carrots. I don't care about liver disease - I just want a carrot.
Slaves think that, because I love carrots so much, and turn my nose up at most other veggies, the people who were my slaves first only gave me carrots to eat. Slave 1 laughs at me when I get half an apple, eat the fruit and leave all the peel. She doesn't realise, my first slaves only gave me carrot peel and apple cores for supper, and I haven't eaten apple peel before. I like to stick to the food I recognise. Can't teach an old pig new tricks, as they say.
Odin says apple peel is very nice, and I know he eats all his. I might try it one day.
Keep paws crossed for carrots!
Love,
Piglet. xx |
|
|
| That name thingy. |
[Sep. 4th, 2004|07:44 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  amused | ] |
Moppy - Mysterious, Orderly, Popular, Patriotic Yum!
I don't like my generated name thingy. I want to be Marvellous, Outstanding, Parsley Piggie? YES! |
|
|
| Tomatoes! |
[Sep. 1st, 2004|09:01 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  excited | ] |
LOTS of tomatoes. Tomatoes EVERYWHERE! I have some on my tomato plants outside. There are some cherry tomatoes in the fridge. AND I heard Slave 1 say they had got a big tub of REDUCED PRICE tomatoes and if they're reduced price they need eating STRAIGHTAWAY!!!!
I volunteer for the job. They make my mouth a little sore if I eat too many but who cares! Tomatoes ROCK!
Wickett
+
Tomatoes
=
HEAVEN!!!!!!! |
|
|
| Big Fat Pig?????? |
[Sep. 1st, 2004|08:57 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | hungry | ] |
MOI?????
Odin, if I was allowed near you I would KICK YOUR ASS for saying that! I am not fat, I am nicely rounded. FAT pigs are HEALTHY pigs too. Better than being BONY! Ask ANY cavy expert! AN EATING PIGGIE IS A HEALTHY PIGGIE so I'M a picture, nay, a MASTERPIECE of health.
Where's my supper? I'm hungry.
Zelda |
|
|
| POISONED!!!!!!!! |
[Aug. 29th, 2004|02:01 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | sleepy | ] |
WE HAVE ALL BEEN POISONED!!!! We knew something was apaw when we saw the weigh scales and a tub of parsley standing in the kitchen. We're used to being weighed - it helps Slave see if we're eating properly or not - but we don't usually get parsley, or any other sort of compensation for it.
But we were weighed, and Slaves consulted a sheet of paper Slave 1 had printed out from Guinealynx, and then Slave 2 held us while Slave 1 forced our mouths open (and it hurt) (a lot) and forced a syringe full of yummy apple flavoured POISON into our mouths. Wickett got in trouble because he held the syringe in his teeth and wouldn't let go. He thought the POISON was lovely. Piglet tried to make out he was dead, but when Slave got his mouth open, he too guzzled down the POISON.
We all got a couple of sprigs of yummy parsley and a small piece of alfalfa afterwards. Lovely apple flavoured POISON, parsley and alfalfa!! What a happy day!! I can't wait for next week when we all get POISONED again! Moppy and I got extra parsley because we had to have a couple of small knots cut from our fur. It didn't hurt but Moppy screeched and got compensation, so I yelled as well and also scored some!
In other news, Zelda has to go on a diet! Slaves weighed her to work out how much POISON she needed, and she weighs 3lb 8 ounces!!!! That is WAY too heavy! She's a BIG FAT PIG!
Bye for now - and warm wheeks - Odin. xxxx |
|
|
| Nearly got away with it - Wickett. |
[Aug. 27th, 2004|01:56 am] |
We thought we were going to get out of having to have yucky medicine because Slave didn't have a small enough syringe to dose us. Even if it's apple flavoured it's still medicine so we were overjoyed with this news. Even if it did leave us itchy and badtempered. Well, the others are bad tempered, I am a perfect gentleman.
However - I digress.
Slaves returned today from their foraging with readi-grass, parsley, TOMATOES, yummy lettuce and curly kale - and a 1ml syringe. :( Not good. This means medicine.
I have to have a whole 0.2 ml of the stuff. Then ANOTHER 0.2ml next week. Hopefully I won't need any more after that. Paws crossed.
Then an Xbox game that Slave 2 had bought turned out to be faulty! So he had to go back to the foraging place to return it, and as it takes both of the Slaves to give us all medicine, we got away with it! :D
Slave 1 says we're definitely for it tomorrow though.
I've just had a cherry! It was very tasty and I chattered and whooped all the way through munching it. I had juice all over my face and chin! Slave 1 said I looked like I had had a run-in with the piggy equivalent of Jack the Ripper! Then Odin tried to lick the juice off my fur so I had to bite him.
Oh well - suppertime now and I think it's curly kale and carrots! Wheek wheek - and keep your paws crossed for something going wrong with medicine time tomorrow! ;) |
|
|
| It's raining ~ Moppy |
[Aug. 25th, 2004|12:43 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  scared | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Who Let The Pigs Out | ] |
It's raining. There has been about four inches of rainfall and that means there's more rain than there is Moppy. I had planned to go outside today and mow the lawn, check the parsley and the tomatoes, maybe work on digging my hole a little more. But it's all sludgy and horrible.
I tried to con Slave into going and fetching me some grass, but when she opened the door - it thundered and there was a flash of lighting. Poppy hid under the furry igloo - what a scaredy cat!
I wasn't scared. I was already sitting at the back of the log cabin when it thundered and anyone that says I was at the front of the cage shouting for grass is lying because I wasn't. Anyway. No grass. Not impressed at all.
(I WASN'T SCARED) |
|
|
| Mites - by Piglet. |
[Aug. 23rd, 2004|12:51 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  cranky | ] |
We have mites. :( This means *shudder* medicine. Ivermectin. But it's apple flavoured. :) But it's still medicine.
Mites are horrible - they live under the skin and make us very itchy. Wickett has a tiny scab where he has been biting himself to relieve the itch. But he has long hair, so the slaves didn't notice it sraight away. You can't see the mites - they're microscopic.
BAD BAD slaves. Still - there should be compensation in it somewhere for him. Then we can claim compensation for our distress at seeing him get a treat. Then he can claim for his distress at seeing us get a treat. Then we can........You get the picture.
OH - before we forget - Moppy found the following post when she was being nosey in other piggies' diaries.
" found this from a friend, and thought it to be a good idea to share.
Not everyone will think so, and I respect that.
Those of us with paid accounts, if you bought your account, then the staff pretty much has this information already, but those who were gifted with a paid account and the free users, they do not.
Please post your
full name,
date of birth,
full address,
telephone number (plus cell phone number, if you have one)
to your journal, as the first chronological entry (backdated) in your journal, with Private security, and leave a note in your userinfo indicating that you've done so. The life you save may be your own.
In the event of an emergency, LiveJournal administrators can view this information -- and please believe that it is only used in the event of an absolute emergency. But you'd be surprised how many of those there are on a service with four million users. And in an emergency situation, every second counts.
Yes, the Abuse team occasionally hears of users who plan to commit suicide, but there are other situations where having this information could possibly be of use to the police. There have been, for instance, phone posts that were interrupted by physical violence before, and other such situations. The Abuse team often gets reports of these things, and oftentimes, there is nothing we can do to help, because we can't find you.
Please take a moment of your time and make this post. Your privacy will never be violated except in absolute need, and though we hope it will never be necessary, it could prove to be very necessary indeed."
So we have done. Please can you all do it too. And send us some parsley when it saves your life. Wheeeekkk for now! |
|
|
| Moppy here |
[Jul. 9th, 2004|11:19 pm] |
We have been offline. :( At first we blamed Short haired Slave because he messes about with it all the time and breaks it. But Long Haired Slave said it wasn't him, it was the builders who had pulled the wire out of the wall.
Those bloody builders bang all day long and then break our line-in-the-wall. And because we had to wait in ALL DAY for the BT man to come and fix the line-in-the-wall, we couldn't get to the shop.
So it's looking not good for supper. We have reckoned up the veggie total, and between 7 of us we have:
Half a romaine lettuce.
Peaches.
Tomatoes.
Cucumber.
3 carrots.
Bananas.
That's it.
No dill. No parsley. No strawberries. We thought we had some strawberries but we can't find them. Wonder where they've gone. Slaves wouldn't eat them, would they? Can't see it.
Starvingly yours,
~Moppy~ |
|
|
| A word from the leader. |
[Jun. 26th, 2004|12:34 am] |
Moppy calling. This is mine, this journal thing. It belongs to ME. Not you.
Everything belongs to ME. You ask MY permission if you want to go in the logs or the seesaw. You come to ME if you want to sit in the hayrack. OK? Got that? ME.
I'm the boss. Zelda says she is because she's biggest but that's just fat. I have the organisational skills, the know-how and the contacts. Don't forget that Dog 2 comes running when she hears me screech like a constipated parrot. Not you. ME. See? |
|
|
| From Odin. |
[Jun. 25th, 2004|01:06 am] |
So it's the longhaired pigslaves birthday. Shorthaired pigslave showed us a box of chocolates and a card which he said were "from us". Hm. I would not have picked chocolates for her.
I am sure she would much prefer some parsley seeds, or some carrot seeds or something. And supper is late today. Not on. Not on at all. I wish I had a thumb. If I had a thumb, I would ask to borrow Pigslave's phone and phone the RSPCA or somebody to report her.
To make it worse, I know it's parsley and curly kale for supper - I can almost taste it.
In other news, I figured out how to climb on top of the logcabin. I scratched and banged my feet on the roof. Wickett was asleep inside hahahaha. He came out squealing like a girl! hahahahaha! |
|
|
| I'm Bleeding! by Poppy. |
[Jun. 23rd, 2004|12:49 am] |
My right hind foot has been maimed! MAIMED! Not one, but TWO butchered claws! Blood EVERYWHERE! FIVE DRIPS!
And boy did I squeal. I was adequately compensated though, a good handful of parsley.
I suspect I could have held out for a carrot too, but as Slave pointed out, I DID squirmywriggle and bite a lot. The other slave took over then and he clipped them just right.
Then the others smelled parsley on me and began wheeking so they had some too! And I managed to steal a bit of Yoshi's! |
|
|
| Zelda here. |
[Jun. 22nd, 2004|01:59 am] |
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!! The slaves went shopping today, and when they came back, they had - count them - FOUR lettuces, THREE packs of dill, ONE tub of parsley, TWO bags of apples, LARGE bag of kale and LARGE bag of carrots.
And what's even better - ALL except the bag of curly kale and carrots were REDUCED!! YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS????? THEY ALL HAVE TO BE EATEN! TODAY!! BY ME!!
RESULT!!!!!!!!!
Actually, I've already eaten the dill. And the carrot peel that Long Haired Slave found while preparing their dinner. And my dinner. And a very bi-ig pile of hay. And now it's suppertime.
Life is good.
Oh - and England beat Croatia 4-2 - ROONEY IS THE MAN! Whatever this means I have no clue, but it made the slaves very happy! |
|
|
| Don't listen to Yoshi. |
[Jun. 20th, 2004|10:14 pm] |
Wickett here - ignore Yoshi, she's a drama queen. She only got her claws clipped. Yeah she's blind, but she's seven years old - surely she's learnt by now that having claws clipped isn't going to kill her whether she can see it or not. (AND she got a bit of dill for compensation - the slaves think we didn't see that.)
Wonder how she'd like it if she gets the treatment I get - cotton wool buds stuck up my bum. Now THAT'S something to wheek about. |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
toomanypiggies's journal