piggy

Deserved or not, I was starting to get a reputation for tall tales that some found hard to believe. 

Unfortunately in life, some simply choose the path of least fun, they call it growing up. With it comes, a certain boring skepticism that means you can only see the world one way. Cast in a boring light. These poor folks so afflicted, deserve our pity. 

Now it so happens that many of these folks, once being so afflicted, devote what is left of their lives to ruining the joy of others. We call these people: teachers. 

So it was. 1986. Grade 2. Having miraculously survived Grade 1, I was back at Glen Cedar School for Children. It was a tiny school, perched way upon a hill surrounded by a cedar forest.  Now the best thing about Grade 2, was that our classroom had a door to the outside. Instant recess! 

Throw open the door and freedom! 

That winter Freedom  meant that every child lived for one thing, and one thing only; Tobogganing. When the bell would ring signaling the start recess, we would grab garbage bags, cardboard, GT snow races, and our crazy carpets. Throwing open the door, and caution to the wind,  we would hurl ourselves down the icy slopes. 

The hill was so large, and so steep, it only took about 30 seconds to get down! It took the other 14 minutes and 30 seconds to attempt to climb your way back up. Each recess was good for one slide down. If you were lucky, you made it all the way down. 

Remember that cedar forest I told you about? The hill was littered with trees. Each child would plan and plot a course through the twists and turns that hopefully landed them at the bottom of the hill alive. Alive and hopefully with all your teeth still in your mouth. 

Speaking of mouths, my friend Piggy was constantly filling his. He was rumored to have been Grade 8 age, but had been kept back in Grade 2 for a while. Piggy was a friendly guy, and between bites was always fun to talk to. I suppose Piggy had to always be eating, as he must have been at least 16. Teenage metabolism kicked in high. No matter how old he was, Piggy was beloved by everyone. 

One of the best things about Piggy was his sheer bulk. Bullies beware if Piggy was on your side.  There was no one bigger, stronger or more solid in all of Grade 2.

But it wasn't just proection from Bulliesthat Piggy offered. Tobogganing with Piggy provided his partner a certain amount of padding, insurance against those trees!

Piggy and I sat down on my crazy carpet. Piggy sat in the front, one hand on the handle, the other clutching a ham, tomato and cheese submarine sandwich. This was in the days before we had coined distracted driving. I didn’t even give it a thought, Piggy might not be in control of the sled if he was distracted by his sandwich.

We flew down the hill, ice pellets and sparks flying off our sled. The air was pierced by the exhilarated screams of other sled riders as we all shot down the icy embankment. Suddenly a scream would be cut short, as the rider would be hurled into a tree. Exhilarated children replaced in the blink of an eye with an explosion of mittens, blood and teeth. Not everyone would make it to the bottom in one piece.

As I watched three of the Jennifers meet their ends faces first in nature, I closed my eyes, and buried my face into Piggy’s parka. I screamed. Countless times the sled hit a bump, lifting us up into the air, to be deposited seconds later back on the cold hard ground. I held on tighter. The crazy carpet gained speed.

After what seemed like an eternity, I knew we must be getting close to the bottom of the hill. I glanced up, and there in front of us, stood a grand old cedar. It’s ancient bows arching out across the playground. Roots firmly planted in the earth. 

Piggy looked up, and saw the tree too. He grappled with his sandwich and the handle of the crazy carpet. He began to lean, trying to get us to turn, he put his gigantic boots down to slow the impact, nothing happened. 

The tree was coming right for us. 
 
I squealed. Closed my eyes, and tried to bury myself further into the protectiveness of Piggy’s down-filled coat. 

It wasn’t the speed of whipping down the hill at 200 km an hour that would kill you, it was the sudden stop. 

Piggy was big, but that tree was bigger. This is how I die. 

I felt the impact shatter both of our bodies. My teeth bit the side of my cheek so hard, I was sure there would be a hole. 

The sudden impact caused whiplash so hard that my scarf was around my knees. 

As I came to my senses, and vision slowly returned to my eyes, I saw there before me the ground, a piece of pink meaty flesh. My Grade 2 understanding of anatomy was such that I instantly recognized that meaty flesh as a lip. Feeling my own face, I quickly determined that this wasn’t MY lip. It was Piggy's! 

Piggy’s last heroic act was that of a meat shield. His body took most of the force of the tree.

Piggy’s lip was ripped right off! 

“Help” I began to frantically scream. Since I had both my lips, this was possible! Adrenaline kicked in, and I tore off up the hill. Screaming for help the entire way. “Help! I have his lip!” I waved the lip around as proof of our dire situation. 

My hope was that I would find an adult, and the situation would be under their control. Piggy and his lip would be reunited. 

As I crested  the hill, a crowd of children and adults had gathered round. I held out the lip, my own lips were quivering with shock. Tears streamed down my face. Poor disfigured, lipless Piggy. 

Suddenly, the crowd murmured and took a step back. Piggy stumbled into the middle. Blood pouring off his face into the white snow. Somehow he still clutched the remains of his sandwhich in one fist. His other hand covered what was left of his face. 

“There it is,” he mumbled through the blood on his face. “You found it”

With a thick knuckled hand, Piggy reached out, grabbing the lip away from my mittened hand. 

We watched on in horror. Piggy raised the lip back up to his face and inserted it into his mouth with a smile. 

“Mmmmm, ham!” The words passed over his blood covered, but two lipped face.