Charles the Snow Pig by Sam Neill
Charles The Snow Pig by Sam Neill
Read by Michael Patrick.
One dark snowy winter's eve, Charles the Pig was in his cosy log cabin sitting beside his warm fire.
Through the frosty window, Charles could just make out the human children playing in the snow. They were building a snowman and had dressed it head to toe in their parent's finest clothes - a red wooly hat, a blue shiny waistcoat and a green knitted scarf.
Charles put his snout against the glass and squinted. The snowman's eyes were sparkling like black diamonds in the moonlight, but what were they made of? Charles sniffed. Charles snorted. They were truffles! Glorious truffles!
With a squeal, Charles burst out of his cabin, leaving a pig sized hole where the door should be. His hooves crunched in the cold snow, leaving thousands of little hoofprints behind him.
The children looked up at the little pig who was charging towards them like a runaway train. Charles? Charles! Charles stop!!!
But it was too late. The children gathered round the pile of crumpled snow, sobbing and staring at Charles who was sitting in the middle, happily munching on the two black eyes.
Still chewing, Charles opened one eye and saw the scene of destruction that he had caused. Charles spoke with his mouth full - Oh no, your snowman... I seem to have done a whoopsie.
Charles felt terrible, but luckily he was quite handy with his snout. The children watched, amazed as he used it to roll snow into one ball, and then another before squashing them together with the side of his little head.
Charles! They cried. That's not a snowman. That's a snowpig! Everyone laughed and Charles snorted.
Charles darted back to his cabin and returned with two round pieces of coal. Here you go, he said. These ones aren't as tasty.