The Pigman:Addition to Ending

(As John)
After the ambulance had rolled down the street, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the key to the Pigman’s house. I turned it inbetween my fingers. It seemed different now, having the key. The Pigman is gone, like he was before when we had the party, but he’s gone in a different way. It felt strange, holding the key to a dead man’s house.

I noticed that Lorraine was looking at the key. “What should we do with it?” I asked.

She wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I want to clean the house.”

“Clean it? Why? He’s not going to be using it any more,” I said, and instantly regretted it. I didn’t mean to be defensive. I was mad at myself. Lorraine’s words kept ringing perfectly through my ears. We murdered him.

I really, truly thought she was going to bust with that statement. Instead, she let a few tears slide down her face. She looked up at me, and softly said, “Please, John.”

We walked slowly to the Pigman’s house. The walk seemed longer than it ever had before. My arm was draped around Lorraine’s shoulder, and she was leaning against my chest as we walked down the road. Leaves blew around in the street, and all of the snow on the street had melted.

I had thrown my cigarette on the ground and had stomped it out. Maybe I should have stopped smoking. Right then and there. Maybe I should have, that moment, told Lorraine to run home and get those pamphlets. But then what would I turn to? Who would I turn to? My parents were no help, that was for sure.

But then there was Lorraine.

As we neared the house, I looked over at the convent. A lone nun was outside on the porch reading the Bible. She looked up as we passed, but then turned back to her book.

We stood outside, just looking at the house for several minutes. The winter wind scraped against our legs as we made our way up the steps. I unlocked the door, although it took me awhile, since my fingers were shaking. I pushed the door open.

When the Pigman said he had cleaned up most of it, he must have been exaggerating. Either that, or he had only looked at the living room. The living room, the same room that Lorraine and I had drank wine with him, was cleared. There were a couple of wine stains on the carpet and furniture, though.

Lorraine and I went into the room with the pigs. She burst out in tears when she saw the shattered pieces of the white pig. Even then, she bent down and started to pick up the broken marble pieces one by one.

“Should I get a broom?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t want to throw it away.”

“What? It’s broken, might I remind you.” Again, I didn’t want to be defensive. I was just so mad at myself for getting involved that almost everything I said had come out angrily.

“I know… But it meant so much to him… I don’t want to throw it away, John,” she stammered. I sat down on the floor, and picked up a vase. I set the vase on the coffee table, and Lorraine began to put the pieces in the vase. I picked up some on the pigs that did not shatter, and put them back on the shelf.

Once we finished that room, we went into the kitchen. There was a broken wine bottle on the floor, and while Lorraine went to mop that mess up, I went towards a paper that was on the kitchen table. In shaky letters it read:
A. Pignati 1/22/64
If I should die, I leave my house, and all of my possessions to Mrs. Truman and Mr. Wandermeyer.
Signed, Angelo Pignati

“Lorraine, look at this,” I said, still stunned from the paper I held in my hands.

“What?” She looked over my shoulder and read.

“That’s us. He left us his house,” I said.

“So we own a house?” she said.

“This one, and everything in it.”

“I still want to clean it,” she said, as she led me upstairs. We organized everything. We put the clothes in the closet, we fixed the makeup that was on the bureau, we even organized all of his papers.

Then I put on the jacket, and she put on the dress. I was an actor, and she was beautiful. Then we kissed again.

Maybe his death wasn’t all bad. He taught me things, he showed me things that I would have never known.

He taught me that life is not something to waste, but you should enjoy your time here on Earth.

He showed me that you should not take anyone for granted.

He also made me realize that I love Lorraine.

I might have never learned these things if Lorraine hadn’t cheated on the phone game. If Lorraine hadn’t called him. If I hadn’t got her involved.

I will never forget what he taught me. I will never forget the Pigman.

Note: (you can believe this or not) My teacher came up to me after class and said that there was a lady who came in to see the schools "in action." My teacher showed the lady my story (this one) as an example of student work. The lady read it and said that this could not be a student's work. (i'm in 8th grade) My teacher explained that it was and the lady said, "Many adults would try for their whole life and would not be able to write this well." (just thought i'd share. I swear my teacher told me this. I'm not trying to brag, I just don't believe that it happened.)