8th Grade Essay: When Pigs Flew

The Day Pigs Flew

         It was bright clear day, upon the daily commuters. There were men in suits, going to the office, and hoping to get that big promotion. The women ventured to a park with their children or went around eating squab. The lay-about sauntered around doing their namesake. The police were walking around, unaware of the various pickpockets’ success. In several hours, when the cops stopped playing tiddlywinks, they would realize that their wallets’ would weigh substantially less than before that nice magician in the ski mask did a magic trick with them.

         The mother, when they had finished eating their duct tape, accompanied very small children through the large city, in which they would watch that violent movie… The one with the bullets and the children and the stabbing and beaten people.

The children rested; their Mother did not realize it until the Sounds started. Comprised of the squeals of the Banshee, the grunts of a Minotaur, the flapping of a Pegasus’s wing, and various other noises, it activated some primal fear deeply engraved in the human psyche.

Mass panic erupted, cars swerved out of control, destroying anything in their way. Fire erupted from seemingly nowhere.  The city hobo went into his infamous “the Rapture is now here and I’m Right this Time,” rant. This particular hobo, Desdemona Baka, had been prophesizing the Bible Code, and was sure the Secretary of State was both the leader of the Illuminati and was the stepsister, whose uncle’s cousin’s veterinarian was

Unfortunately, the Mother left her children, for the good of the family, she thought.

The ruckus seemed to be getting louder. Louder, louder, and, at the peak of its blare, flying flock of hogs stormed through the sky, their angelic wings no indication of their flight plan. They bumped into one another, crashed into skyscrapers. They did this at speed not incomparable to a pink, fat eagle. Their attack, though ill conceived, struck home, as the noisy creature aimed into the local pizza hut.

Moreover, in the dust raised by the coordinated assault on the beloved parlor, they disappeared. Of course, as is custom when a herd of pigs thunder through the sky, flying with all the skill of a chicken with its head cut off, the remaining members of the audience just strolled off casually. As if. A symptom of casual is commonly yelling, praying, and chaos. Casuallity is often practice during the apocalypse!

Fifty years later, there would be a conspiracy involving genetically engineered elephants and yeti abductions.