It Was The Year 2040…

It was the year 2040.

The Pig family had agreed to meet in a nearby wine bar. Peppa was there first. Finding a table, she ordered two double vodkas, which she had downed in quick succession before anyone else had even arrived.

Next to turn up was George. He nodded at his sister. “Alright?”

“No, not really, I am so fucking tired. You?”

“Shattered.” George rubbed his eyes and signalled to the barman. “Tequila?”

Peppa shrugged. “Why not. Even if I already know I’ll be regretting it when Sophia starts insisting on that awful bloody programme from 4.30am tomorrow morning.”

“Which one is that?”

“Oh, you’ve probably had to watch it with the boys. It’s about some precocious little brat called Sally and her whining dick of a brother. Sally Swine.”

George buried his head in his hands. “Yep, I know the one. Don’t you just want to bury them both under the patio?”

“Too bloody right,” said Peppa, as they clinked their glasses and submitted to the sweet release of tequila.

The doors opened and Mummy and Daddy Pig arrived. Unlike their children, who had stains of assorted bodily fluids around their persons, and bags you could have smuggled buried treasure in under their eyes, they looked wonderful. Mummy Pig had had a facelift and was wearing a new dress which Peppa had a nasty suspicion she’d seen on The Outnet just last week. Daddy Pig had lost five stone since Peppa and George had left home, and was sporting a rather dapper ‘tache in honour of Movember.

“Hello darlings,” said Mummy Pig. “How are you both?”

“Fucking dreadful,” said George gloomily, downing another shot of tequila. “Daniel and Anthony are both little fucking bastards. I haven’t slept past four in the morning since the year 2035. Their entire days seem to be spent shitting, smashing the hell out of each other, or crying their fucking eyes out because they can’t find those stupid sodding dinosaurs you two bought them.”

Mummy and Daddy Pig exchanged a knowing look.

“And,” began Peppa, not to be left out, “my life is just impossible. Sophia cannot be reasoned with. She is a spoilt brat who thinks the world revolves around her. All I want is one solitary day where I don’t have to watch Sally Sodding Swine from morning to night, can get to drink a cup of tea while it’s still hot and can actually read more than two words of my book without her demanding my attention and fragments of my soul. I mean, is that honestly too much to ask?”

Mummy and Daddy Pig exchanged another knowing look.

“Anyway, darlings, we can’t stay,” said Mummy Pig. “We’re off for drinks in town, and then we’ve been invited to the opening of that new nightclub at 2am.”

“You’re staying up until 2am?” said Peppa, open mouthed. That was quite often the time she got up for the day, if Sophia had her way.

“Why not?” smiled Daddy Pig. “We’ve got no plans tomorrow. Might just stay in bed all day.” He grabbed Mummy Pig round the waist and she shrieked in delight.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” groaned George. Whether from the tequila or from his parents antics was unclear. A sudden idea came to him. “Ooh, if you have no plans tomorrow… would you mind having the boys tomorrow?”

“Yes,” said Mummy Pig and Daddy Pig in unison. “Yes we bloody would.”

“But I’m so tired,” moaned George. “And they’re so fucking relentless, and my entire life has gone to shit.”

“We know,” said Mummy Pig, picking up her designer clutch bag and taking Daddy Pig’s hand. “And that, my darlings, is what we call… karma. Goodnight!”

The door closed behind them. Peppa and George looked at each other.

“Were we really that bad as children?” asked Peppa.

“Of course not,” said George, pouring out more tequila. “Typical parent exaggeration. Bottoms up.” They drank. Thank heavens for tequila to numb the pain.

In the back of a black cab, Mummy and Daddy Pig were laughing their heads off. “His face…when we said we wouldn’t have the boys.”

“Just priceless.”

“So, it was worth it in the end?”

Mummy Pig thought back for a moment, to the early years of George and Peppa’s lives. To the endless whinging, and complaining, and general dickish behaviour, all of which she’d only made it through with a healthy addiction to prescription drugs and an emergency gin supply in the larder.

“Well, I wouldn’t go quite that far,” said Mummy Pig. “But goodness me, karma is a wonderful thing.”

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