Pink Pigs on Formica

This is a piece I wrote a couple of weeks ago and have been tinkering with since.

I wrote it after having a meal with friends on a Monday night. I’d started the evening by walking into the locked side of the restaurant’s plate glass door. This caught startled glances from the people I was meeting, three of whom I’d met once, one who person who was new to me – and only one that I knew well. Only the person I knew well didn’t look up and notice.

After the meal we went to somebody’s flat and played a few games. One was a take on charades, lead by categorised prompts from a tablet, the other was one I remember playing at some point in the past, called pass the pig. I wasn’t particularly good at either, quizzes are more my forte when it comes to this sort of thing.

Pink Pigs on Formica

Phrases cuts shapes on the screen,
Tangled words tumble from
A pair of pink pigs slide and skid across formica,
and topple onto their backs.
A manhole cover gets lifted,
I try to demonstrate.
To no avail,
My comrades fail to decipher the circles I make with my hand,
And the attempt to mime at being a man.

When the next pigs land,
one snout first,
the screen’s strobing commands get worse
The other’s on it’s side, it’s
spot exposed.
And now we’re supposed,
To count up the numbers.
All the while stumped by another tablet conundrum
More flailing extremities,
This time mandrils and chimpanzees.


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