Saturday, July 7, 2007

You Need A Pig To Find Truffles

Note: I found this in my storage unit. From a college write assignment. What was I thinking?

You Need A Pig To Find Truffles

by Roland Denzel
January, 1988

Martin was hungry. And, he hadn't had any luck, either. He looked down at the tin bucket that he had hanging from his belt: No mushrooms. No truffles.

It was seven o'clock on the evening after Easter Sunday. It seemed a lot like summer to Martin, as it was still light out (Martin liked summer for just that reason). Everything was dry and not particularly good for hunting mushrooms. Martin hunted anyway, but as was stated before, he was having no luck.

He was surprised at himself for enjoying this chore so much. He liked it so well that he did it daily. It was, however, according to his Mother, a stiff punishment for being so naughty. No matter what his Mother thought, though, Martin loved it (perhaps because it got him away from his Mother).

It was starting to get dark. The sun had already set, and the only light was the still lighted sky remaining to show the way. Time to get home, chore or no chore. Too bad he had not found even one mushroom to bring home in his bucket.

He walked. He soon stopped in front of the most likely spot that he had seen that day--although still an unlikely spot--and started looking. He got down on hands and knees, almost cow-towing before the hill of not very damp leaves, praying for a mushroom or two. Something to appease his Mother's wrath toward his empty bucket. But, there was nothing.

He stood up. It was getting darker. There was no getting around it, he would have to go home empty handed (was getting beaten for nothing better or worse than getting beaten for having nothing?). He hoped his Mother would let him eat tonight.

It was dim as a prison when he arrived home empty-handed. Martin flinched as he caught himself starting to put his pig away for the night: He no longer had his pig. Too bad, the pig had been great company on his truffle hunts--better even, than Martin's dog.

Last night, Easter Sunday, the family truffle hunter had been enjoyed by Martin's family (Martin hadn't eaten).

Martin's Mother had been in a wonderful mood for Easter dinner (she had even been sweet to Martin). He was shocked that his Mother could take the death of his friend so lightly. His father, however, reminded him that he had been warned about getting attached to the livestock.

Martin knew better than to think that his Mother found his pain amusing, but sometimes he found himself crying anyway.

Once again, he didn't eat. And, his Mother only lightly scolded him for finding no mushrooms (then she smiled at him and might have chuckled lightly, too).

He didn't like mushrooms, anyhow.

So, my professor really like this thing. I think she thought it was deep and mysterious.

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