The hog had the Mayor's chain. It
even sat on his velvet-cushioned chair.
'It doesn't suit you,' East said,
arms folded behind his back, 'Black matted fur or whatever it is you have over
your pork, it doesn't suit gold. Certainly not the chain of office.'
The boar snorted and padded its two
front hooves. East turned sharply.
'You're Christmas dinner, you
realise that! No, wait! You're not even that, you're Boxing Day leftovers! Ham
sandwiches! Pigs in a blanket! Now give me it back!'
He clawed at the pig's neck but its
tusks were out. East raised his hands and shifted over to the intercom near the
office door.
'Beatrice,' he spoke into it, 'How
could they do this to me? They deliberately sent a malevolent boar.'
It hummed and clicked before
responding. 'The farm people are on their way, sir. Traffic's bad on the M3 apparently.'
East sighed.
The hog snuffled one of the chair's
armrest.
'You better not get snot on that
lacquer! Foul beast!'
East collapsed in a guest chair.
'As far as power plays go, I have to
remark this is the longest I've ever experienced. So, well done in that respect.'
The boar gazed at him with its black
beady eyes.
'You wear that for much longer,
you'll be in the job, you know? Officially.'
The pig stood up again. East rubbed
his eyes. A clack, a rattle, another clack. The chain was now on the carpet.
Mayor East's laugh was delayed. 'Good
choice.'
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