New Zealand, (b. 1959)
Case 2: Please Man
from Hands On: A Handbook
- 2a
- The first little pig thought he’d build a house. You
- mean a fort, said Dad – right you are little man (i.e., little pig).
- They got up early. Dad’s trotters clattered
- on Trade Me. Little Pig jigged in the monitor’s blue glow.
- They drove out to where a beautiful pink swamp
- met the highway. Dad inhaled deeply, reminds me
- of the farm mornings of my youth (urea). Some Saturdays
- he regretted the Wolf Studies Dept .They met the vendor
- and Dad asked him if he was the vendor.
- (He was a man.)
- If I’m the vendor you must be the vendee. Tee hee (this is true).
- The greedy car boot soon bristled. The man chewed straw
- and said I would’ve given you that gratis if you’d asked.
- Roaring off – Little Pig postmarked on the back seat –
- Dad said, Be careful about men you meet on the internet son.
- Dad built a twanging fort in the back yard. Little Pig did
- Game Piglet. Raping six miss piggies got you a fort.
- Around lunch-time a wolf flourished the gate. Ta da.
- Leaned his stalactites, his sly expression, on the air
- in the yard. Dad pumped wolf’s hand (i.e., paw). How can I help?
- Hey ho fatpork panfry, said the wolf. Good day to you, too,
- said Dad. Hey ho gristlechew cracklefat.
- Little Pig snouted out the window of the house (fort).
- The guy’s a prick, he said In Pig. Ethay uygay’s ahay ickpray.
- Mm, said Dad. He trottered his bristly chin. Excuse us a minute.
- Ducked inside the fort (house). Little Pig,
- use your tolerant words. If a pig were a man
- and a wolf were a man, we’d have much in common.
- I take off my hat, in a manner of speaking
- or grunting. Go out there and apologise to Mister Wolf.
- Little Pig saved his game. It took a while, a bus stop.
- Just then the fort shook and shook. Look son, said Dad,
- an example of huffing and puffing. We’re lucky indeed. Rarely
- have I seen such a display of traditional huff and puff behaviour,
- The wolf huffed and he puffed and he h. and he p.
- and he etc. etc.
- and he blew the house down (i.e., fort).
- Dad and Little Pig bucketed inside where Mum had
- warm swill waiting in the bath. The wolf slunk off with his tail
- between a broom and a boy’s pocket-knifed toetoe.
- 2b
- The next Friday Pig 2 said if houses were being handed out
- he should have one. Fair enough, said Dad, but four things:
- no straw no strange men no games, and it’s a fort.
- And no more wolves, said Little Pig. Goes without saying,
- said Dad, or grunting. Crack of dawn Saturday Dad bought
- wood from the cheery individual at the hardware store,
- came home and woke up Pig 2, or tried to.
- I’ll huff and I’ll puff, joked Dad. Seriously, this reminds me
- of the woodworking classes of my youth. He knocked up
- the fort (house) ruminating on how pigs had been
- unfairly treated in primary sources such as novels (or poems)
- e.g., portrayed as dogmatic farm animals even though
- they weren’t dogs. Get up Pig 2! I’ll huff and I’ll puff!
- Fuck off, said Pig 2. But he lolloped into the fort (house).
- Cool, he said, and lay down. His tail opened wine with each snore.
- Dad hammered on, explaining about secondary sources,
- articles and suchlike, which by and large, especially large,
- ignored pigs. You could drive a truck through, said Dad,
- the absence of pigs in critical theory. The field
- is wide open, son. Grasp it with both hands (i.e., trotters).
- Pig 2 slept on, the fort (house) forming around him until
- he heard the tell-tale plg-squeak of the gate and a cursory
- huff. He opened one eye (we think – hard to see).
- Hey ho sweetsour blittymeat. Hey ho flapskillet spittyfat.
- Dad drag-queened inside the fort (house), high up
- and dizzy on his trotters. Pig 2 reared up too,
- but like a man. I’ll get him Dad. No son, don’t succumb
- to stereotyping – that wily hairy toothy eat-your-grandmother
- stuff is about as true as pigs being fat greedy lazy victims,
- with victim mentalities. Son, we’re all the same,
- son, student pathologists first draw juice
- from an orange, then blood from a pig,
- then lastly yes lastly, the bluey blood of a human.
- What can we learn from that, son? Outside the wolf huffed
- and he puffed and he huffed and he puffed and he.
- That a man, said Pig 2, is sweet. There was then a maelstrom
- of huffing and puffing. Dad’s pudgy flesh pulsed
- in out, in out, and on Pig 2’s bristles, beads of sweat struggled
- determined like little snails getting on with it.
- Huff puff huff puff huff puff huff puff. Muffellous stuff,
- stuttered Dad. He cuffed his Ventolin. The walls shuddered
- like lungs. Run for it, son! They trotted for it
- as wood became like matches and like firewood
- and like pick-up sticks and like a French dessert and like
- the hands of a thinking person thinking up marvellous
- ideas. Inside Ma Pig made her famous warm bathtub or swill
- with Everything In It, which they liked. Outside the wolf slunk off
- thinking himself a clever sculptor. But he isn’t, said Pig 2.
- 2c
- The biggest little pig was Big Pig. He said ditto to Dad
- re: the house, and Dad said ditto to you too, Big Pig,
- but seven things: no straw no strange men no games no wood
- no sleeping on the job no bad grunting, and it’s a fort.
- And no wolves, chorused Little Pig and Pig 2.
- Oh we’ve seen the last of Mister Wolf said Dad,
- if I know anything about wolf behaviour.
- Big Pig drove and Dad held his heart and his tongue
- out to a doll’s concrete jungle in perpetual sunset, pink,
- red, terracotta, and on a miniature street corner
- a giant spruiker bounced and Dad, who knew what to say, said
- Please man, and man’s eyebrows indicated a bundle of bricks.
- In the car Big Pig lollygagged. Oh pu-lease man!
- Back home Big Pig’s rusty trowel flapped like autumn.
- Dad slapped on fixer and a red wall grew and in the intervaIs
- between slopping Dad started a conversation about
- the men and the women. I know, said Big Pig, I know all this.
- Big Pig had been rutting since puberty, but still he blushed.
- This is why pigs are pink. all the sex conversations.
- To recover Big Pig went for smoko on the side path.
- Trottinq back- butt squished under hoof – his little jaw dropped.
- Dad was leaning against the bright brick wall puffing a joint
- with the wolf. Dad made a joke about shitting bricks which
- was so funny the wolf huffed and puffed. Big Pig
- went inside the house (fort) to think. Dad followed.
- You have to understand the wolf’s worldview, said Dad.
- Was it mentioned that Dad had a PhD from the University
- of Warwick, Wolf Stoodies Dept. He stood wolves.
- Hey ho chopspit fattycake, the wolf giggled. He half-huffed
- and half-puffed. Hey ho flatbake bristcrisp. Big Pig called
- out the window, Not so hot yourself. Ignore him, said Dad.
- Hey ho pokepork spattyfat, said the wolf. Big Pig sniggered.
- Why I oughta, he said. Hey ho panspat porkyflap, said the wolf,
- and he huffed and he puffed. Why I oughta, said Big Pig.
- Oughta what? said the wolf. Oughta, said Big Pig.
- Don’t tease Mister Wolf, said Dad. Hey no meatpat qristletoe.
- The wolf was huffing and puffing. Why I oughta, said Big Pig.
- The wolf paused. Oughta what? Just oughta, said Big Pig.
- The wolf scaled the roof. He huffed and he puffed
- and he huffed and he stopped. Hey ho snoutmouth appleface.
- Don’t answer, son, said Dad. I said hey ho snoutface applegob.
- Son! said Dad. Why I oughta, said Big Pig. Hey ho
- hamsam mustysauce. / Why I oughta. / Hey ho spittypan
- bacyrind. / Why I oughta. / Son, this is getting out of hand
- or trotter. / Hey ho porkfried sweetysour. / Why I oughta. / Hey ho
- schnitzelfunken gebriskenmuffin. / Get woughta! yelled Big Pig.
- Little Pig and Pig 2, in the kitchen with Ma, had
- just raped some piqlettes. Pig 2 looked up. We gotta
- get woughta. Their games went all to hell.
- Hey ho chippydust snackbag. / Why I oughta. / Enough!
- said Dad. He barrelled outside. Mister Wolf!
- Dad clonked up on the roof. Ignore my rude son,
- continue with your huffing and puffing ceremony.
- Hey ho pukubun spicychops. / Why I oughta. / Hey ho
- poakasmoke hangipani. / Got the woughta? shouted Big Pig.
- Little Pig and Pig 2 had got the woughta. BoiI it,
- said Big Pig. On the roof, Dad’s trotters dinged the rivets.
- Mister Wolf, my apologies, take no notice.
- Hey ho kunekune puhaface. / Why I oughta. / Mister Wolf! /
- Hey ho pokopoko piggyfritter. / Why I oughta. / Mister Wolf!
- Dad fell down the chimney, plosh into the water.
- Hey ho. / Oughta. / Hey ho. / Woughta. Everything
- went silent. Good job Little Pig and Pig 2 didn’t know
- how to do anything including build a fire.
About the Poet:
Anne Kennedy, New Zealand, (b. 1959) is a poet, novelist, and freelance film writer. Kennedy initially worked was as a piano teacher and music librarian after graduating with a Bachelor of Music in Composition from Victoria University of Wellington.
For many years Kennedy worked in the film industry as a screenwriter and script consultant. Her screen credits include Crush, with director Alison Maclean and The Monkey’s Mask, directed by Samantha Lang, an adaptation of the verse novel by Dorothy Porter.
Kennedy has taught creative writing since 2000. She first taught at the University of Hawaii at Mānoa, then at Massey University at Albany, then at Manukau Institute of Technology in South Auckland.
Anne Kennedy is the author of three novels, a novella, three books of poetry, and many anthologized short stories. She has co-edited, with Robert Sullivan, Ika, the literary and arts journal of Manukau Institute of Technology. She is a past editor of online journalTrout and has guest edited the Best New Zealand Poems series. [DES-03/18]
Additional information:
- Anne Kennedy’s website
- Twitter:@annekennedee
- New Zealand Book Council profile page