Thir Franthith Thnake: An Unauthorithed Biography

By Piggy Trotters

Thir Franthith Thnake follows the hilarious adventures of our hero, overcoming childhood adversity to develop into a mature and confident young adult, and a hero to all. Solve the Pig’s puzzle, focus on the curious “visions” our hero has, the meaning of which is only revealed in the climax. It’s a story of overcoming adversity, mateship, good triumphs over evil, and there’s an ugly duckling story. And it’s very funny. You should read it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jul 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781925529036

Piggy Trotters

Piggy Trotters had a long career in the corporate world at senior levels. He holds six degrees (yes 6) ranging from finance and business administration to counter-terrorism and international security. Piggy is a long time reader of Australian history, military history, terrorism and counter-terrorism. As part of his Masters degree in counter-terrorism at Macquarie University, Piggy wrote an extensive paper on the financing of terrorism.Now retired, the child within Piggy is no longer restrained and has been unleashed with a vengeance. The concept of the book “Thir Franthith Thnake (an unauthorithed biography)” commenced with an idea from Piggy’s brother, Porky Trotters, some decades ago. That early idea has been expanded upon in more recent times by Piggy to create this complete story. If nothing else, it represents many hours of fun in putting it together and engaging others to participate in the process. Three cheers for Inma, the illustrator!

Book preview

This is an IndieMosh book

brought to you by MoshPit Publishing

an imprint of Mosher’s Business Support Pty Ltd

PO BOX 147

Hazelbrook NSW 2779

http://www.indiemosh.com.au/  

Copyright 2016 © Piggy Trotters

All rights reserved

Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author and publisher.

Cover art and book illustrations by Inma Vassar Cover layout by Piggy Trotters and Ally Mosher

This Book Is Rated PG

Parental Guidance Should Be Sought Prior To Reading It

WARNING!!

This Book Contains:-

Explicit references to a number of cute little animals

A number ofclichés

Severalalliterations

Frequentandgratuitoususeofhumour

A rat (maybe) with a goldtooth

A picture of a pig eating Swisscheese

A picture of a pig vomiting (no connection to thecheese)

The pig’s puzzle – see if you can work it out as you read

The ‘visions’ of Francis – very tricky but all will be revealed

This book is a salute to my brother, Porky Trotters, who first conceived the character Francis,

and of course, his mate Ralph.

I also acknowledge the love and support given during the book’s creation by my wife,

Prickly Trotters.

Chapter 1:

Growing Up

Suddenly, a terrifying shriek of pain and surprise pierces the air. They all stop, frozen in fear. Moments pass with the shriek hanging heavy in the air. Oh my goodness, despaired Sarah. It’s Francis. What’s happened to him?

Stanley had already rushed to him.

-oo0oo-

It all started a long, long time ago. That’s people time of course; it was much longer if you happen to be a snake. At the time Sarah Snake stood gazing down towards the riverbank, her heart bursting with pride. A smile of contentment swept across her face. There she could see her family, with the recent birth of two girls and three boys, being so outrageously indulged by their father, Stanley (who was affectionately known to all as ‘Tiger’).

Sarah’s life seemed so complete now, so filled with absolute contentment and joy. This was her family, her very reason for being, the meaning of everything, spread out across the riverbank lovingly observed by her. This was pure delight.

Apart from the fulfilment of life that the babies had brought, Sarah and Stanley had been challenged to find names for each of the girls and the remaining boys. Francis had been named first of course, as he was the first born and oldest of the boys. His name had been decided on ages ago and carefully nurtured until his birth.

They had been on the riverbank most of the morning, hissing and giggling with their father. Stanley was well known for his hiss, and now he wished to pass on his skills to his children. Carefully he explained everything there was to know about the hiss. They hung on his every word. Rapt in awe they listened to the ancient story, handed down from father to child throughout the millennia. Stanley told them the story of the origin of the hiss, and he told the story in the traditional snake method of verse. And here they were, each trying to outdo the other, each trying to do a bigger hiss than the other, using every technique and hint given by Stanley. Friendly and joyous in the competition with each other, they snorted and snickered and hissed away.

Trying to do the very biggest, longest hiss of the day, Francis misjudged the position of his tongue and thrust it forward onto his razor sharp fang. He had slashed his tongue!

Francis, cried Stanley. Are you all right?

Francis couldn’t reply at first. His lips were smacking and he swallowed repeatedly trying to get his tongue under control. After some little while Francis managed these first few words,

Oh for heaven’th thake, I’ve thlashed my tongue Daddy. It’th tho thore I can hardly thpeak. Francis paused momentarily and then attempted to hiss, Htht, htht, htht. Oh no, no hith!

His mother was at his side gently cradling his head to her bosom, rocking back and forth trying to comfort him. His brothers and sisters lay by silently, eyes wide and mouths agape like startled statues.

He’s scarred for life, wailed his mother. ‘He’s permanently disabled. He’ll never have a normal life. He’ll be the object of teasing and ridicule. What’s the use of a hissless snake? Oh my poor, poor scaly baby, what will become of you?" she sobbed.

Stanley gathered him up from his weeping mother. He held him up so he could look into his mouth and at his tongue. It didn’t look good. It was a nasty slash and cut across his tongue at an odd angle. The family first aid kit would be of little use so he rushed Francis to the Snoctor (snake doctor).

Snoctor Yang was the son of Chinese immigrants, but had spent most of his life, and had all of his education, here in this small snake village. Whilst he was a general practitioner, in earlier times he had specialised in injuries connected with the fangs and still kept the motto, ‘Get your fangs into Snoctor Yang’s’.

The Snoctor spent quite some time examining Francis. He pushed and prodded and some of it hurt. Francis was not in a good frame of mind. His tongue hurt and his mouth ached from being wide open for so long. It was worse than being at the Fangtist!

When Snoctor Yang finished his examination he felt there was little that could be done. Surgery would be too difficult and the outcome uncertain. The Snoctor recommended regular exercise for the tongue and suggested several specific exercises, but he held out little hope for a significant improvement. He felt some improvement may be gained as Francis grew up, provided he practised regularly and that meant several hours a day.

Over time, and with no improvement obvious, a remedial massage nurse was engaged to assist Francis. Once a week she came to his home, and gently stretched, twisted and massaged his tongue. Whilst Francis found the process quite pleasant, there was still no improvement. Alternative methods were also tried, including acupuncture and Chinese herbal remedies, although his was quite a unique ailment and there was no specific remedy known for Francis’ condition.

And so it came to pass. Mother’s prediction saw poor Francis the object of ridicule and teasing. His early childhood years were fine. After a while his brothers and sisters barely noticed his lisp, and his parents never mentioned it. Visiting relatives would notice it, but say nothing in front of him. Once on their way, his relatives expressed concern for Sarah and Stanley, as they saw them burdened with such a tragic son. They felt nothing for Francis. Being so odd, it was hard for others to have affection for him. It was much easier to recoil from him and keep a distance. If it weren’t for the sake of Sarah and Stanley, the relatives would have nothing to do with him.

Eventually, although he took the Snoctor’s advice and practised every day, no improvement was apparent, so after several years Francis tired of it. The remedial massage nurse was discharged, the acupuncturist and Chinese herbalist were sent on their way, and Francis resigned himself to a life of htht, htht. It wasn’t such a problem anyway with his family all about him.

However, he couldn’t stay at home forever and the day came when he had to start school. He was excited about school and his first day at school was fine. Like all the others he was new at school and didn’t know many of the other snakes. Mostly they milled about, a bit shy to approach others. Some nervous conversations did progress and, whilst Francis was looked at oddly sometimes, nobody sought to taunt him. It was too early in the piece for the bullies, because until they had established their base of supportive goons, courage deserted them.

Soon enough, those at the school formed into their various factions; some good, some not so good. Once their goons were about them, the bullies wasted no time in targeting Francis. He was pushed and shoved, ordered to speak properly and jostled when he failed to do so. Sometimes he would push back, but this only invited more trouble. His brothers and sisters sometimes stood up for him, but this didn’t help his self-esteem, and they couldn’t be there all the time. The bullies were quite adept at finding Francis by himself.

Oooo, lithen to the thnake. He thoundth tho thcary with htht, htth, htht. Ha ah ha ha, oh man, what a loother! the bullies taunted.

Francis was initially determined to make his way in spite of the bullies and their taunts. He tried to do what the other snakes were doing, and to participate in life at the school. Various activities were available to the students beyond the core course subjects.

He tried out for the debating team, but was ridiculed.

Hey Franthith. Thay thomething theriouthly thenthible. Ha ha.

He tried out for some sports teams, but was met with similar ridicule.

He was driven to avoid anything with an ‘s’ in it.

Hey Franthith, want to play tennith? they chortled. How about thome thoccer thnake?

He also tried to mix in with others in their out of school hours, but he would not be left alone.

Want to go thwimming and thunning? Why don’t we all go thurfing or thailing? Let’th thee if the thnake ith a thea thnake – ah ha ha.

Relentless in their pursuit of him, other snakes couldn’t seem to accept that a simple speech impediment didn’t make Francis any less of a snake. Day in, day out they continued with their hurt. They rarely said anything original, just the same old insensitive barbs.

Francis found he was not included in anything like the others.

At first he was invited to the birthday parties of the others, but this often meant more teasing. Some of the parents of other snakes didn’t want him at the birthday parties, or even just call in after school, and so his invitations dwindled to pretty much none. He was different and the parents were unsure of him. Some of them were quite spiteful.

As time went by, Francis became more aloof, more shy and retiring. He grew more sensitive and withdrawn. He even joined the Chess Club! He didn’t need to speak much when playing chess, the Library Club he was positively ordered not to speak!

The Bridge Club was another of his pastimes. Little talk was tolerated there, particularly if it was in regard to the game. Concentration was essential, but some communication was required as this was a game involving two sets of partners. There were therefore, some tolerance for talking, but it was very limited.

Commonly players would find other ways to communicate with their partners and tongue flicking was one method. However, most players knew of this and what the signals meant, so tongue flicking was really only used in the beginners’ classes. For the more advanced players, ‘under the table tail flicking’ was common, although this carried the risk of forfeiting the game. One also had to be careful given that there were four tails under the table. They had to ensure they flicked the correct tail or risk forfeiting the game, or giving their signals to the other team.

A school band was to be formed and Francis decided to try that. You didn’t need to speak when playing an instrument. However, the others didn’t really want him there so they insisted he try out for the woodwind section. With his impediment, it was just impossible for him to produce a good note. He begged to be allowed to try for the percussion section, but, as other students had taken up all those instruments, he was refused.

The band practised in the orchestra pit. It was immediately adjacent to, but lower, than the stage in the school auditorium. On his way to what was now going to be his final try out for the band, he was jostled in the usual way and he slipped off the stage and wedged tail first into a tuba. He was stuck fast as his tail had slipped into the curvatures of the instrument, and it took some time for the others to extract him. To get him out required a number of students pulling him from the front, whilst the student with the largest lungs, a Boa named Betty, blew into the tuba to try and blast him out. Eventually he popped out and again he was shamed away, never to participate in the band again.

He spent a lot of time in the library. He found bullies and libraries didn’t mix. It was not unlike vampires and holy water, or even garlic. He did a lot of reading and was thirsty for knowledge. Thirsty and sponge like. It was in the library where he first began to develop his idea; an idea that would be a long time in the making.

Although Francis was able to spend a lot of his time in the clubs and library, the teasing and ridicule continued. Rather than having less impact on him over time, the hurt seemed to increase with each new barb. He knew he was quite bright, and he could do well in chess and bridge. He thought he could be good at sport too, if he was given an opportunity. But he didn’t dare perform well at anything. That would draw attention to him and invite even more teasing and ridicule. He must stay very much Mr Average, very much a low profile. But he knew. He knew within himself what he was capable of.

More and more of his time was taken up with reading in the school library. He devoured books from across the world. Books about different lands and different cultures excited him the most. He would seek out beautiful places, exciting places, dangerous places, places by the sea and places in the mountains. He would daydream that he was there; travelling the world carefree and cavalier and no one taunted him; no one.

His favourite subjects were history and geography. These subjects brought other lands and other times to him; times of heroes, adventurers, explorers, famous ships’ Captains and navigators, the discovery of new worlds across vast seas and oceans, the exploration of these new worlds through deserts and rainforests, and remarkable feats of endurance and heroism.

He studied the Arctic and Antarctic. He could see himself skating along in a dog sled, and being cold blooded this meant rugging up in a woolly muffler, earmuffs and one thick woollen sock. He would need to wear a woolly hat and thick jacket too.

The ancient world of Asia would call him. On his ship he would trade spices and silks with the West and put down the Boxer rebellion single handedly. He would sail to Africa and discover Doctor Livingston and Mr Stanley of course. He would discover a cure for sleeping sickness, and develop anti-venoms.

In the Americas he dreamed of making peace between the Indians and the whites. He would smoke the peace pipe, cough a little, and never touch the weed again. Buffalo would be protected, and so would ‘rattlers’. He imagined himself to be one of the great gunslingers of the Wild West. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid would tremble at the mere mention of ‘The Silencer’, the slipperiest gun in the West.

He learned of Europe and Russia, and the great empires of the past. He would travel to Ireland and confront St Patrick. He wanted an explanation! He dreamed of leading the Romans to victory across Europe and North Africa. He would be feted by Cleopatra and it would be he, the asp, taken to her breast. Caesar would seek his advice, and he would be one of the few allowed to call Mark Antony, ‘Tony’.

He would join the Greeks and march to ancient Troy and fool them with a gigantic wooden snake. Persians would stitch great carpets for him, and he would fly a magic one to defeat the infidels.

He dreamed of being a great explorer, traversing lands of ice, of desert or lands thick with rainforest and jungle. Great mountains would be conquered and claimed by him. He could see himself Captaining a great ship as he navigated it across the immense seas and oceans of the world. He would see himself discovering new unknown lands, with creatures so different to the rest of the world.

He would daydream as one of the great generals of history. Conquering all and putting down the evil empires and freeing the enslaved. He saw himself leading a great cavalry charge, sword held high as he led his men to victory. Of course, having no legs he will have to ride sidesaddle.

It is the mastery of the environment that captured Francis’ imagination, to conquer these great lands and seas against unimaginable hardships. He would drift off into daydreams where his eyes would stare into nothing, and took on a glazed look. Whilst his mind was racing, he was oblivious to anything going on around him. He would dream of being a conquering hero, off in some distant land to return home to a hero’s welcome. Francis dreamed of being loved by his people. He dreamed of being respected and of being lifted shoulder high and paraded before his cheering people. In all his dreams he had no lisp, and it saddened him when he returned to reality.

How can I be a hero? How can I get rethpect when I talk like thith? Why can’t I be like the otherth? Why can’t they jutht leave me alone?

Sometimes he would be a little tearful, in private of course, and he ached with