This little piggy

Who can resist...

Grabbing his big toe, you start. "This little piggy went to market..."

Silence. Hunh?

Looking in the rear view mirror, you can see Roger red-faced, both hands over his mouth.

Ah. Tough guy.

"This little piggy stayed home..." Grabbing his second toe, you add a little scratch to the wiggling.

A series of snorks and muffled snickers float up from behind you.

"This little piggy had roast beef..."

Snrrk-rrk-khh-khh-khh-snrk

"and this little piggy had..."

Wait. This little piggie only had three toes.

The tender feet wriggled in anticipation.

"um...this little piggy had 10 minutes left until we get to the hotel," you blurt, and attack both soles with gutso.

BAAAHAHAHAHAHA-HOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOO-WAAHHAAHAAHAAA!

You settle in to a pattern of figure-8s on each foot. Your fingertips leave momentary wakes as they slide across the pillow-soft soles.

WOO-HOO! WOOHOOHOOHOOHAHAHAHA.

Gloved fists pound on the back of your seat. The cabin walls reverberate with toonish laughter.

You hardly hear the small ding announcing your arrival at the hotel. You pull a still giggling Roger from the back seat.

"Hey, you're pretty good at that, pal," he says, "Thanks for the giggle." Planting a smooch that covers half your face on your cheek, he darts off like a bullet.

A sign ahead lead two places.

Written by an anonymous author

Game room

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