ROKK I

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I always wanted my father's approval, though I never got it

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I always wanted my father's approval, though I never got it. Instead, I settled for a third pig snout.

"Look at you," Father said, licking a bore hoof clean. "In four months it'll be your seventeenth fall - your last chance at manhood - and all you've done is stuffed your face with jowls and rhines."

"And snouts," I smirked, swallowing warm, greasy pig fat. I looked down at my third plate of golden-charred meat; each piece glistened, giving off a smokey-fleshy smell. I snagged a piece of skin and bit in. 'Father, don't you worry,' I smacked my lips, 'I won't let you down this time.'

Father dropped a bone cleaned with the prowess of a wolf. "That's what you said on your fifteenth fall, and your sixteenth fall ... but look at you now ... fat, pathetic, and just as ugly."

I snorted, drooling.

"Do I amuse you?"

I shook my head. "Have you seen yourself, Father?" I bit into a thick, black piece of meat and tugged. It gave with a sharp tear, whipping my head back violently. I snorted and chewed, trying to keep the grease from spilling through my lips. "You've seen better days."

'Truly ... and you've seen none at all.' Father spat. 'You've been fat and ugly since the day you burdened your mother's cunt.' He rubbed a fat digit on his chin. 'In my day, I was built like a boartaur; strong, confident, and ruthless.' He looked at me and his eyes blazed with intolerance. 'Not like you - a worthless piglet.'

A snicker rose from the four hooflings sitting at the table.

I swallowed and wiped the grease off my face. 'Not true, father,' I said, waving a piece of meat. 'Piglets make great company.'

'No,' father glared. 'Piglets make pigs - and you've outdone yourself. Hand me the liver basket!'

The eyes of my siblings fell upon me.

I placed a snout in my mouth, grabbed the basket, and grunted to my feet. Each of my siblings watched with sick fascination. I waddled over and placed the basket down, smirking. 'Enjoy, father.' His lips sunk.

I hurried back to my seat.

'And the biscuits...'

My siblings chuckled.

Clutching my chair, I looked back at him. Father's elbows sat on the table. His rounded chin plopped in his palms while his black eyes twinkled with delight. The basket sat just out of reach. All he had to do was stand. 'Come on, boy, I grow hungry.'

I narrowed my eyes. This time I waddled quickly, placing the basket down, and waddling back before my stomach had time to growl.

Father guffawed. "It's good to see you can make haste when you're hungry."

That did it. Around the table, the four equally rounded hooflings lifted their chins and howled with laughter. Food chunks flew. Glasses spilt. And the table rocked like there was a colossi outside.

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