This Little Piggy

By Jody E.

"Creed, can you help me with somethin’?" Stanley asked in his deep drawl.

Creed smiled pleasantly, "Certainly."

"Somebody left these boxes of paper in front of my desk a week ago, and I’ve told Michael about it, twice, but of course, nobody has moved them and I’m getting’ fed up with the situation. Would you help me move them?"

"Of course," Creed smiled, but when he got up to help move the boxes, he winced, slightly.

"What’s the matter with you?" Stanley said.

"Oh, it must be going to rain. My foot always aches when the weather changes." Creed was noticeably wincing when he bent down to help move the heavy boxes of paper.

"Oh never mind, Creed," Stanly said irritably, "I can move the boxes myself. I forgot about your foot. How did you lose that toe anyway?"

"Actually, that’s quite a story. And one that you might find interesting."

"Really." Stanley said, "I doubt that, but you may as well tell me while I’m movin’ these boxes."

"Well, my parents were what you would call beatniks in the fifties and sixties. They were very into causes, especially civil rights. When I was ten years old, they took me to the March on Washington. Do you remember that?"

"Of course."

"Well, I was very excited…there were such crowds of people, all singing and waving banners. I got to see Martin Luther King Jr. speak too. It was incredible. Anyway, even though the march was mostly peaceful, there were policemen everywhere, on these big white horses. I loved horses and I snuck away from my folks and went up to one to pet it. Just then somebody must have waved a banner in the horse’s face and he reared up, and when he came down, his hoof landed right on my foot. I was wearing sneakers, and the weight of the horse plus the policeman, crushed my little toe. They rushed me to the hospital, but they couldn’t save it. The policeman was very upset. He was just a rookie. I still hear from him to this day."

"My goodness," exclaimed Stanley, impressed in spite of himself, "That was quite a story."

"Well, I am fine except on days like this. Sorry I couldn’t have been more help."

"Oh, that’s no problem. No problem at all."

****************************************************************

"Listen to the sound of that rain!" exclaimed Pam, taking a bite of her yogurt.

"Man, it’s really coming down. I hope it stops before five," Jim remarked opening a can of grape soda, a ham and cheese sandwich in front of him.

"Do you hear thunder?" asked Creed, who was in the break room brewing himself a cup of herbal tea, which smelled strongly of licorice, making Jim wrinkle his nose, and share a glance with Pam.

"It’s probably just one of those spring storms."

"A storm like this reminds me of the time The Grass Roots played an outdoor concert at Jones Beach in 1968."

"Jones Beach? Wow...all the biggest bands play there, even now." said Jim, impressed.

"Well, we were pretty big in our day. Anyway, even though the weather had been beautiful when the concert started, all of a sudden it began to pour, just like it’s doing now. We’d played in the rain before, of course, and it was okay as long as all the amplifiers were grounded, and our roadies were really good about that sort of thing.

But that night, one of the amps must have shorted out…the one right next to me, and suddenly I was frozen with electric shock. Everybody else in the band was wearing rubber soled shoes, but I was wearing buckskin moccasins, and they actually burst into flame."

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Pam.

"What happened?" asked Jim.

"Well, our roadies were incredible…nobody panicked. They unplugged the amp, and put out the fire within seconds. But my feet were pretty badly burned. They healed up fine, for the most part, but I did lose a toe."

"Wow! You know I had heard something about you having lost a toe, but I had no idea…"

"Well, it’s not something I like to talk about. It’s just the rain made me think of it, that’s all."

"Well, it’s an amazing story," said Pam.

"Yes, it certainly exemplified our biggest hit, ‘Live For Today.’ You’re the receptionist, aren’t you?"

Pam smiled, "Yes, my name is Pam."

"Of course," smiled Creed, "and you two are engaged, right?"

"Uh, no, " stammered Jim, "Pam’s engaged, but, uh, not to me."

"Oh. Well, have a nice day. Stay dry." Creed took his tea and left the breakroom.

Pam and Jim continued their lunch in silence.

*****************************************************************

Dwight was standing at the vending machine, trying to decide between a Snickers bar and a Milky Way.

"Hello. You’re Dwayne, aren’t you." Creed watched the vending machine thoughtfully, waiting for this young man to leave so that he could use his own special method of candy extraction.

"No. It is Dwight! Dwight Schrute!"

"Are you sure? I would swear that somebody told to call you Dwayne. He even gave me five dollars to help me remember."

"Jim!" Dwight growled, "That was months ago. You can stop now."

"Okay." Creed said pleasantly, "If you want to be called Dwight now, that’s fine with me."

"What do you want, old man?" Dwight snapped.

"You’re a hunter aren’t you?" Creed remarked, mildly.

"Why yes...how can you tell?"

"It’s in the eyes. Total focus and concentration. Oh by the way, do you happen to have a nail clipper? I have this hangnail that’s driving me crazy."

"Yes! I have one in my desk. I believe in always being prepared for every eventuality. I’ll get it." Dwight left the room, and while he was gone, Creed quickly reached into the machine and extracted a bag of M&Ms. He slipped it into his pocket before Dwight returned.

"Ah thank you. This will just take a second." He took the clippers and clipped off the offending nail, and returned the clippers to Dwight who put them in his pocket and went back to considering candy. "It takes a hunter to know one."

"You’ve hunted?" Dwight turned to Creed, interested.

"My dear boy, once I lived entirely on what I could hunt or trap."

"Really?"

"After my wife died, I didn’t want to be around people anymore. So I went up into the mountains in Vermont and lived all alone in a cabin for two years, hunting and fishing for my food."

"Were you…a hermit?" asked Dwight, eyes wide.

"Yes. I suppose I was. I had a beard and everything."

"I’ve always wanted to meet a hermit. Sometimes I think I’d like to be one. People can be so annoying, don’t you think?"

Oh, I used to think that. But one incident changed my mind. One day I was chopping wood for my fire, and the axe slipped and chopped through my boot like it was made of paper."

"My God! An axe can be a dangerous tool if not handled properly. What did you do?"

"There I was all alone, miles from civilization. So what could I do? I bound up my bleeding foot with a handkerchief and hiked eight miles down that mountain. I was about ready to pass out from pain and loss of blood, when some nice people picked me up in a Chevy and brought me to the hospital. All I lost was my little toe, thank goodness. But after that I moved to Pennsylvania and got my job here."

"That is amazing. You were so brave! Let me buy you a candy bar."

"Why thank you. That’s very kind."

************************************************************************

"Excuse me, young lady, but what do you call those shoes you’re wearing?"

"These? Oh my goodness. These are flip-flops. I got them at the mall yesterday. I really like the way they sparkle. Of course I wouldn’t be wearing them at work if it wasn’t casual Friday. I really like casual Friday, but so many of the people don’t seem to get into the spirit of it, you know? Like Dwight always wears a suit, no matter what. And Angela always looks like she’s working in a library. Which is funny because she always talks really quietly too. Even when she’s being mean, which, I hate to say is kind of often."

"Well, those shoes are very attractive, but I hope you don’t wear them to the Mall."

"Why not? But, by the way, thank you for saying that they are attractive. I think what makes the whole look work is that I painted my toenails hot pink, which is the exact same color as the sequins on my shoes. And would you believe that Ryan didn’t even notice?"

"Well, I wanted to give you a word of warning about wearing shoes like that on the escalator. In 1974 I got my sandal caught in the teeth of an escalator and it tore up my foot and I lost my toe."

"Oh you poor man. That is truly tragic. Here, have some cookies. I made them for Ryan, but he only ate three of them. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost a toe. Do you think they would charge me the full amount for a pedicure if I only had nine toes? I always wonder about that. I mean, what about people who only have one foot? Do they get a special rate? And what about buying shoes?"

"Excuse me, I believe that my phone is ringing. Thank you for the cookies."

****************************************************************

"Creed, do you really think you should be eating that?" Phyllis’ motherly face showed true concern, when she saw Creed eating a cookie at his desk.

"That young Hindu girl gave it to me. She made them herself. They’re quite tasty."

"Creed. You know perfectly well what I mean. It’s not good for your," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "diabetes."

"It’s perfectly fine. My doctor says that as long as I test my blood every morning, and take my medication, an occasional cookie won’t hurt me."

"But…you lost your toe."

"Oh that was back when I was still drinking. My diabetes was totally out of control. But now I am clean and sober, and I haven’t had any problems with my feet for years. I am fine, Florence."

"Phyllis."

"Phyllis. Forgive me. You know my memory for names is shot…it was all those years of drugs and drinking."

"Oh I know. I just get concerned about you, living all alone."

"But I take very good care of myself. And you are very kind to be so worried."

"We’ve worked together for many years. I consider you a friend."

"And I consider you one as well." Creed turned off his computer, "Have a good evening…Phyllis."

Phyllis smiled and gathered up her things.

****************************************************************

When Creed got back to his rented room, he had his Friday night fifth of Bourbon from the liquor store down the street where he had an account, and his dinner in a bag from The House of Chow. Mr. Chow liked Creed because he could speak Mandarin, and always gave him free egg rolls. He opened the Bourbon and took a drink, but put the bag on top of the television to keep warm, even though he was hungry, because first he had something urgent to take care of.

He emptied out his pockets. He had several cookies from Kelly, 4 candy bars from the vending machine, all of which would come in very handy for later in the evening when he got "the munchies," and one last item, the nail clippers he had picked from Dwight's pocket. Finally. He had been meaning to pick up a pair of these for the longest time, since his last ones had broken.

He sat down in his ancient recliner and removed his socks and shoes. Tsk, tsk, tsk. This job was way overdue. Carefully he leaned over and clipped his toenails…all ten of them.

Creed enjoyed lying almost as much as he enjoyed stealing.

The end

Historical note: The March on Washington took place in 1963. If Creed Bratton had actually gone, he would have been 20 years old, not 10.