Peppa Pig: Escapee

Chapter 1

Daddy Pig was hungover on the king canopy bed that he and Mommy Pig shared, on the second floor of their small two-story house. Or, at least, he would soon wake up hungover - he was still snoring like a pig under an enormous cotton-stuffed quilt. 

Peppa wasn't hungover, but she still had splitting headaches when she woke up. The wooden ladder leading down from the top bunk in her bunk bed was starting to chip, and it creaked under her weight as she climbed down and got dressed in jeans and a monotone blue shirt. 

The stairs creaked, too, as she walked down them. There were about 15 repairs Peppa could've named from the top of her head that should've been done years ago, but Daddy was always too drunk, and Mommy was always away from home. 

She didn't mind too much. Daddy was always sleeping, and when he was awake, he was always semi-coherent and stumbling. But the beer he got drunk off was cheap, and was sold at bulk for a cheap price at stores. Mommy was rarely ever home, but she still had a job, and that money plus the money Peppa got off of starring in her TV show was enough for them. 

Peppa walked into the dining room, and brushed by her brother, George, having breakfast.

"Good morning," George said to her as she walked by. He looked up at her face. "Someone's skipped their skincare routine last night."

Peppa flipped him off and grabbed a box of cornflakes off the kitchen counter. She grabbed a relatively clean, chipped bowl and a plastic spoon, and made herself a bowl of cornflakes. 

She sat down, across from George, who was scrolling through something on his phone - courtesy of an aunt they had never met before 2 Christmases ago. 

He wrinkled his nose at the sight of Peppa's breakfast. "You know cornflakes were invented to stop people from masturbating, right?"

Peppa stared up at him, incredulously, her spoon brimming with milk and cereal halfway to her mouth. "Then maybe you should eat some," she drawled. "The lotion is for your face, George. I can hear it from my bunk."

The tips of his ears turned a delicate shade of pink, which was hard to see, since they were pigs with pink skin. 

"Go back to stalking Instagram models and eating your white bread with jam, George," she sneered.

She scarfed down her bowl of cornflakes - she had no intention of spending any quality time with her brother. She poured a third of a glass of orange juice, and drank it in 5 seconds, setting the dirty glass and the milk-stained bowl in the sink. 

"Are you not going to wash the dishes?" George said, his tone as civil as he could muster. 

She shrugged. "Mom or Dad should be competent enough to wash them," she yawned. "It's a bowl and a glass, George."

"Dad? Being competent?" he snorted, looking up from his phone. "He's always either asleep, hungover, or drunk."

"Then Mom can do it," Peppa said, resigned, almost at the foot of the stairs. 

"Mom's either out working at the grocery store, with some boy toy that's still in college, or at some 'book club'. She barely has time to sleep, let alone wash your dishes."

"Fine. I'll wash them later," she grumbled, admitting defeat. George gave her an asymmetrical smile. 

George licked his lips. "You also have to act in another episode today," he said.

Peppa groaned, from the middle of the staircase. "Lovely."

"Mom isn't here and Dad isn't sober enough to drive, so you're going to have to drive without a license. Again," he added.

"Cool!" she half-shouted at George. "Enjoy your white bread with overly sweet strawberry jam, would you?"

"Just avoid the cops," he said, indifferently, but Peppa was already in her bathroom and didn't hear. "And anyone who knows that you don't have a license."

She read about a celebrity doing drugs, a girl going missing, and some movie producer's birthday while brushing her teeth - none of this happened in perfect little Peppa's world, though. 

She wanted to leave. She hated starring in her television show and she hated acting - she would've walked away years ago when her family fell apart, but they needed the money. 

Her phone buzzed with a text from Suzy. 

Episode @ 10 today. Need me to drive you there? 

Peppa breathed a sigh of relief. Suzy didn't have a license either, but she was definitely better behind the wheel than Peppa was - and Suzy could actually parallel park without getting sued. 

Sure, thanks, Peppa typed back. 

She gargled a bit of mouthwash and spit it out, which gave Suzy enough time to type a response. Madam Gazelle wants you to bring your boots. 

Peppa opened the purple closet in her room and pulled out her pair of yellow boots sitting at the bottom. Okay. 

Yea, Suzy said. See you there.