Marvel and the Tiny Intruder
by Marvel
Come set a spell and enjoy a few quiet minutes in the Meadow...
The morning started like most mornings do — dew on the grass, the sweet smell of hay in the air, and me, Marvel, tending to business.
Being the man of the Meadow comes with responsibilities, ya know. I reckon somebody has to keep an eye on things. Every morning I make my rounds up at the Snack House, making sure everybody is where they ought to be and nothing suspicious has wandered in.
Most days, there ain’t much to report.
This particular morning, however...
Well.
Just as the sun was peeking over the trees, I caught sight of something moving beside the round bale — something tiny and pink and squeaky. It zipped by so fast I thought it might be a booger haint!
What’s a booger haint, you ask?
A spook. A spectre. A ghost of sorts.
Appalachia is crawling with ‘em.
This particular haint was beside the round bale, not moving a muscle.
As I moved closer, I figured it might be a misplaced snack — which would’ve been odd, but stranger things have happened around here.
Then it moved.
It was alive.
A little piglet came trotting straight toward me, bold as brass, nose twitching like he owned the place.
You’re not welcome in my domain, little piglet! Nosiree! Not on my watch!
I gave him my best bull stare.
He squeaked.
I snorted and stomped.
He squeaked again — louder.
Well, that wouldn’t do.
So I put on the full show — pawed dirt with my front hooves, gave a proper bellow, and made it plain whose Meadow this was.
That little piglet never even blinked.
The Snack Lady laughed and said, “Looks like you’ve got company, Marvel.”
Company?!
Ma’am, that is a security breach.
Still... I reckon the little feller didn’t look too dangerous. Mostly, he seemed interested in a warm patch of straw in the sunshine — and maybe a little company.
So I did what any good leader would do.
I let him stay.
(That’s leadership, ya know — firm, but compassionate.)
By the time the sun got up high, he’d tucked himself beside the hay bale among the ladies and was snoring away like he belonged there.
And me?
I kept watch.
On account of something that bold ought not be left unsupervised.
Every barnyard needs a guardian, after all — even if his newest assistant squeals instead of moos.
