The impossible has come to pass. And look — pigs are flying!
Writers responded to the prompt, and what follows is a collection of perspectives in 99-word stories arranged like literary anthropology.
Those published at Carrot Ranch are The Congress of Rough Writers.
Landing A Flight Of Pigs by Mr. Ohh!
Barnyard Air Four Three Niner this is Old MacDonald tower. Do you copy?
Oink Oink Here
Roger that. The winds are out of the north at two knots, we will be asking you to use runway one eight zero. That’s the one by the silo. Do you copy?
Oink Oink There?
Roger. The other runway is currently blocked by cows Frankly It’s just everywhere a moo moo, down here. Also be advised that Colonel Porker will want to see Captain Swine upon landing. The call letters are Epsilon, Indigo, Epsilon, Indigo, Oscar. Acknowledge
Here an Oink There an Oink
A Healthy Pork-Life Balance by Bill Engleson
It started when I built that house of brick. You remember that story, right? Made the social media rounds. Pretty soon every pig and his brother wanted to know how to build a brick house.
I kept on saying, read the book. That’s what I did. One hundred years old.
Lots of pressure from my brothers.
“You wanna be a one-brick piggie all your life?” they asked.
Anyways, soon I had to become a consultant.
Flying all around the country.
Showing porkers everywhere how to build brick pig houses.
Brought in a lot of bacon, let me tell ya.
The Pigs In Their Perfect World by Larry Trasciatti
The big Piggies chase
After the small Piggies
Their bacon supply is low
There is a flight
To freedom at midnight
Only available to those
Who have purchased tickets
Most local streets are vacant
Except for the ones
That lead to escape
The Large Piggies demand equality
‘Conform at all costs’ is
Their defiant battle cry
Equality is conformity for
All in their world
There are porcine gunmen
Always patrolling the streets
For some reason the
Road leading to the
Airport is much foggier
And icier than the
Other roads around here
Equality is the ultimate
Priority for pigs
Unexpected Cutoff by Rebecca Glaessner
“Apologies all, our project must end,” the speaker announced.
“One more day!” Someone stepped forward, “we’re so close. Their brain’s are simple. I can prove-“
“No. We leave now. It’s not safe anymore, they’re volatile.”
With a thought, doors opened and the nervous crowd filed out.
Their commotion grew as others joined.
“Hostile movement ahead.”
Someone triggered a different thought-command, halting the hostiles.
The speaker hesitated, shouted, “run!”
As a crowd of feathers, fur and wool flew by, armed humanoids watched, immobilised by their own neural-chips.
Headlines the following morning read: Intelligent Lab Pigs Plot Mass Breakout. Now Citizens.
Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad by Doug Jacquier
As he tentatively trottered onto the plane, Napoleon ticked off another first for an upright pig. Squealer followed close behind, as always, and when they settled into their first-class seats, the hostess brought them complimentary champagne. Both pig-men were excited to be attending the first international convention of animal farmers, where Napoleon would deliver the keynote speech and covertly lobby to become their President. The plane shuddered into the sky but, after leveling off, suddenly changed course and flew towards the ocean. At the controls, a revengeful Mr. Jones was ensuring the flight of pigs would remain a myth.
This Little Piggie Went… by Deborah A. Bowman
The little piggie that went to the store, while the other stayed home, are usually connected to a foot. Tiny little toes and big fat pigs. Go figure?
How did we get this size thing all switched around and upside down? Humor and fantasy are close knit friends.
I see a minuscule world on the tip of my tongue. The clouds are my cheeks; the sun my nose; the Universe is violent shades of color, depth, and rambling highways mimicked in arms and legs.
When I scream, the darkness in my throat is a black hole.
I am complete.
Head for the Hills by FloridaBorne
“Tell me again why your pigs fled for the hills?” Officer Benton asked.
Farmer Fred held a hiking staff, his backpack sporting a sleeping bag and supplies. “Granny says there’s an earthquake coming.”
“Where’s your granny?” Officer Benton asked the man of 70.
“Over there,” Fred said, pointing at the family graveyard.
“Your dead grandmother told you?”
“I was 30 when she said, They’ll be an earthquake here when pigs fly. You’d better tell folks to flee north.”
Fred walked away toward the hills. Benton drove away. A mile from town Earth shook; then the ground opened beneath Benton.
Fear of Flying Course by Anne Goodwin
The registration desk is closing when I show the clerk my booking reference. After scanning my phone, she scans me. “You didn’t bring a pet?”
Hours searching for Marmaduke had made me late. “My cat had other plans.”
“No problem. You can pick one from the menagerie outside.”
I try to decline but she insists the treatment won’t work without an emotional support animal. I follow the direction of her thumb. The dogs, cats and hamsters are all taken. No way can I cuddle a rat. I board the plane with a piglet. Hoping pork can assuage my fears.
My Guardian Angel by Annette Rochelle Aben
Roxanne’s daughter, Tiffany, made a bed in the hay, right next to her pet. Angel. The young sow was ill and the Vet said they had done all they could. Kneeling down next Tiffany, Roxanne covered the crying child with a warm blanket. It seemed like the only comfort she could offer.
“Mama, tell me something. Will Angel go to Heaven when she dies?”
“Honey, I believe she will always be with you because she found Heaven in your heart.”
“So, she’ll be like an Angel, I mean one who watches over me, right?”
“Will she have wings?”
“That your girlfriend?”
Ignoring the two men beside them at the bar, Nard and Marge continued talking about Nard’s beer brewing projects. “I finish it in plastic 2 1/2 gallon dispensers, called pigs. I’ve got different kinds of beer going, Marge— a flight of pigs!”
“Your girlfriend looks like a pig.”
Just then Kristof arrived and kissed Nard.
What those two men said next needn’t be repeated.
They hadn’t seen Ernest also come in. Ernest lifted both those chauvinists off their barstools and tossed them squealing out the front door.
“Bravo, Ernest! Now that was a flight of pigs!”
Pigs Don’t Fly By Cara Stefano
Ava didn’t have one of those picture-perfect childhoods; her parents were either yelling or absent. The one thing they got right, however, was getting Ava a library card. Every day after school Ava walked to the library for her daily escape. When her parents got home, usually long after she should’ve been in bed, Ava tried to share her excitement. “What if I was strong like Superman, Mommy?” “Can I be an astronaut when I grow up?” “Can we go to Mars, Mommy?” All she ever heard back was, “When pigs fly, kid!”
The Time is Now By Cara Stefano
When Ava started reading books about animals she finally learned that pigs don’t fly. After so many years of hearing that her dreams might come true if ever she saw a pig fly, this was a particularly devastating revelation. Imagine her surprise when one day after reading a really great book about farm animals, she happened to look up at the sky; to her delight, there among the clouds Ava saw a flight, a flock, a swarm of pigs, all sporting tiny wings that held them aloft! Her mother stared, open-mouthed, amazed.
Family Shenanigans by Sue Spitulnik
Who said a forty-something shouldn’t feel like an excited young bride? The ladies in Tessa’s family invited her friends for a personal wedding shower. Michael’s and her sister oohed and aahed as she opened each special gift, but they held one box in reserve to be the last presented. Finally, the most elaborate paper and bow lay on the floor. Tessa held up a life-size felted pink piglet with curly tail and sparkly silver wings for all to see. She didn’t understand the present.
The sisters exclaimed, “Michael swore he wouldn’t get married till pigs could fly!”
Do Pigs Fly? by Myrna Migala
The day! An excellent turnout if Miss Suzi Qque had anything to do with arrangements. Everything flawless, decorations to the menu.
These ten women had something to celebrate! What was it? A party to rejoice after they worked hard to lose 50 lbs.
The mascot chosen for laughs and keep them on their guard. A pig!
Pigs were the center of the decor; a tasty treat to nibble on was pigs in a blanket, a dish consisting of sausages wrapped in pancakes.
These women also had a catchy slogan, “Do we miss those 50 pounds? Do pigs fly?” NO!
Drunkard by Jane Aguiar
A man used to come home drunk. One day he fell sick and was admitted to the hospital. He promised his wife that he would quit drinking. He then recovered and came back home.
When he woke up the next morning instead of drinking tea, he started running out of the house. Seeing him wearing sandals. His wife asked him, “Where are you going?” He replied, “I’ll be back soon.”
Wife understood his intention and she tried to stop him. He said, “I’m trying to quit drinking from tomorrow.” His wife ironically replied, “surely you’ll change, when pigs fly.”
Swine Song by Kerry E.B. Black
We lived outside of Gerasene, a land where the Chosen never harried us.
Or so we thought.
A man swathed in sunlight called to a madman chained in the nearby tombs. “What is your name?”
The darkness within the madman growled, “Legion.”
The glowing man sent Legion into our doylt.
Cold settled into our bones. Acid ate our flesh. Demonic whispers infiltrated our thoughts.
We acted before Legion controlled us as it had the madman of the tombs.
Together, we leaped from the cliff, truly flew, suspended in our divine act before gravity called us to the primordial sea.
Flying Pigs by Joanne Fisher
“Don’t those pigs have wings?” I asked looking up at the pigs in the laboratory.
“This is our research into flying pigs. We crossed them with bats. Unfortunately vampire bats, so not only do they fly, but they’ll swoop down and drain your blood. Hence the protective safety glass.” My guide tapped the barrier.
“Just one question: why?” He shrugged his shoulders.
“We thought there might be a market for it.”
“Flying vampiric pigs?”
“Well maybe not vampiric…” He conceded. “We’ll iron out the problems in the next trial. Hopefully they won’t escape the lab this time.”
Grafted Rethink by Connor Dickinson
Xenotransplantation Zoom Conference.
‘Germany flew twenty chimera-pigs secretly to Bavaria, high-tech laboratory professor Santiago.’
‘Swines. A scientific dew-claw. As FDA Argentinian Chair, I vote pannage for livestock, and no to human-pig trials Doctor Mateo.’
I’m hospitalised with sixty-degree, pig-iron burns, my flesh putrid, steaky, nauseating.
‘Sign consent form for xeno/pig skin graft? Most like human skin,’ says silhouette.
‘NO.’ I die from painful heart attack.
Yet a day later I live, with a new pig heart. German maverick doctor glares at me. ‘Now, ethics committee advisor will you say yes to human pig trials?’
Flying Pigs by Norah Colvin
Children’s squeals drew the principal to the window. Ms Irena’s children were running about the yard tossing bits of paper in the air. What were they up to this time?
“We read a book about a flying pig,” explained Ms Irena. “The children decided to make their own pigs and see if they could fly. Then they wanted to see whose would fly the farthest or highest. After, we’ll write stories about our pigs. So, it’s literacy, art, maths and science rolled into one — STEAM!”
The principal smiled. “A flight of pigs. With Irena, even the impossible seems possible.”
Indigo Wings by Nancy Brady
Aloysius loved to fly. Yet, he rarely stuck the feather behind his ear unless he found it absolutely necessary.
The day he wandered into farm country, a few pigs had escaped and were being chased by a dog. Squealing in fear, they ran. Aloysius wasn’t fond of dogs either, but he wanted to help.
Finding it absolutely necessary, the white cat put his feather on, grabbed the pigs, and tried to lift off. They were too heavy until the feather turned a deeper blue. Aloysius and the pigs rose, taking flight, sailing over the field back to their barnyard.
ALotta Piggies in Flight by JulesPaige
Me, be an editor?! When pigs fly. Apparently the pigs are flying. I can now list on my resume that I am a co-editor of a poetry book! I’ve done my part in spell checking, design, and general co-creator! That’s what you get when two people can work together (via the internet) and encourage each other.
like moths to a flame –
do pigs fly when the moon’s full?
maybe in autumn
I’ve zoomed, zigged and zagged. Now I can sit back and cheer. Thanking all the folks who counted syllables to create enchanting verses for ‘The Moons of Autumn’.
Sometimes a Miracle! by Liz Husebye Hartmann
Maximilian munched on his last MLT sandwich. The sun set over the mesa he lived atop. Years ago, it’d split away – like magic! – as the surrounding continent had sunk under the ocean. The sheep dwindled, while lettuce, tomatoes, and wheat thrived.
He knew it would be fish sandwiches from now on.
Max’s wife, Valerie, had known about his shameful craving for a BLT; pork was unlikely in their situation. On her death, tired of hearing him kvetch, she’d shrieked “When pigs fly!”
He sighed. And then heard the faint squealing and flapping of tiny wings, high above and circling.
Once Upon Impossible by Duane L Herrmann
“When pigs fly!” She said dismissively because, of course, pigs can’t fly. Generations pass. Chemical pollution generated mutations. Animals sprouted features they’d never had before. New shapes, unusual combinations, appeared. A form of bird lots its feathers, except for the wings, which expanded. It also grew two extra feet, out of its chest, and began to walk on all four. Being closer to the ground, it began to root around and the beak became blunted. It developed a pot belly. They became named: Schwein Vogel, and would fly in herds.
Soon, impossible things occurred, now that pigs could fly!
Sometimes, You Don’t Need What You Wish For by Frank James
Herbert the guinea pig escaped a cardboard box, scurrying outdoors. Boom! Talons snagged him, and up he went. An eagle found dinner, but Herbert writhed in air. He squealed as the bird swooped into a nest where chicks squawked.
Herbert struggled harder, but the bird squeezed his neck harder. He flipped him into the center of nest. Herbert saw an opening in the nest wall, dashing for it. A hungry chick grabbed his back, but Herbert yanked free into the hole. He hopped down limb-by-limb, except the last one. He had to jump.
“Whee!” He squealed, landing his master’s arms.
Campout: A Mini-Memoir by Michael Fishman
I dated a farm girl who loved camping. Me? My farm knowledge was the words to Old McDonald, and camping was a room at the Holiday Inn.
You do things when you’re in love and that’s how I found myself camping in her brother’s yard one July Saturday night. The bathroom was close, and all things considered, it wasn’t so bad.
Early Sunday morning I woke to a shove. I opened the tent flap and was face-to-face with a very large pig. The pig snorted. Molly reacted with some deep-seated farm knowledge. The pig ran.
I didn’t scream.
When Pigs Fly by Colleen M. Chesebro
“Come one, come all, the circus is in town,” bellowed the bearded lady.
Me and Jude stood at the side of the road and gawked at the circus wagons. The calliope played with such fervor we had to cover our ears from the noise. We’d never smelled so many smells at the same time.
When the wagon of monkeys stopped, the critters screeched and pointed, like we were the funny ones.
“What do you think, Jude? Is your ma gonna let you go?”
“I hope so. Last year when I asked her all she said was, “When pigs fly!””
The Fair Opens Early by Charli Mills
For three days, diesel engines have geared low to turn at Satori’s Corner halfway up Quincy Hill. Carnies arrive, hauling chunks of amusement rides and galley games. Trucks towing hot dog shacks, popcorn houses, and ramshackle campers follow. Carnie food and homes. Perpetual travelers from across the nation bring fun and excitement to rural counties on a continuous loop. The Houghton County Fair opens on Thursday. When a trailer full of 4H pigs escape and the Ferris Wheel operator leaves popcorn in a seat before the test ride, a flight of pigs launches the first attraction a day early.
Sure Enough, I Saw by Artie Camenzind
A herd of roller-skating tortoises by the pond. A beaver family dancing salsa atop their dam. A rookery of herons singing Cosi Fan Tutte. A patch of hazel-nut trees debating souffle’ recipes. A group of teens with mobile phones off. A dog talking about irrigation flow efficiency. A yoga class of cats in downward dog. A stroller pushed by love bright as sun. A flight of pigs, none named Bacon Sandwich.
On Geisel’s Ferry Boulevard, I sure enough saw all this and more; sure enough I did do not say I did not – you were there, you saw.
Pig Aloft (Part I) by D. Avery
“Kid? Kid, where ya at?”
“Psst! Pal. I’m up here in the hay loft.”
“Ya sure flew the coop at this prompt. What’re ya doin’ up there?”
“This’s a cruel an’ unusual prompt. Figgered I’d put Curly in hidin’.”
“How in heck’d ya git yer dang pig up there?”
“The hay elevator. ‘Cept I had it runnin’ too fast. Poor Curly went flyin’ across the mow. Now she won’t come near it.”
“Hmmf. How now d’ya pr’pose ta git thet pig down outta thet hay loft? She’s too big ta carry anymore.”
“I’ll figger somethin’ out.”
“When pigs fly.”
Pig Aloft (Part II) by D. Avery
“Kid, kin ya mebbe lower her down? There’s a block an’ tackle over the hayloft doors.”
“Poor Curly’s so upset from her elevator ride I cain’t git near her.”
“Now whut’s all thet squealin’? Did ya catch her?”
“No, but she’s all caught up in somethin’. Some sorta sign. Her hooves’ve gone through, she’s wearin’ this thing like a… a wing! Look out below! She’s skidded inta the wild blue! Curly’s flyin’!”
*When pigs fly
Aloft on good grace
“Landed at the Poet Tree. Hep her outta that wing.”
“Thet wing was Shorty’s rodeo banner.”