The first thing Wing Commander Peregrine Oinks-Gruntington saw when he came into the Pigs in Planes common room was a huge, horrible face with great big eyes like two poached eggs staring right at him.
‘AAARGH!’ he cried. ‘Intruder in the HQ!’
‘It’s OK, Peregrine!’ laughed Captain Peter Porker from the sofa. ‘That’s just Brian’s latest masterpiece!’
Once his heart had stopped thudding and his moustache had relaxed to its usual shape, Peregrine saw it was true: the awful face was just a painting.
Curly McHoglet, the PiPs’ latest recruit, quickly explained that Brian had decided to take up art as a hobby. The medical officer now spent all his spare time ‘creating masterpieces’ (his words). He’d propped this one up near the door to dry while he moved on to his next work of art.
Peregrine studied the painting. He squinted in case that might help. ‘What’s it meant to be?’ he asked at last.
Brian was just coming back into the room behind him. He was wearing an artist’s smock, with a neat little black beret on his head, and carrying a bowl of fruit in his trotters. ‘It’s a self-portrait,’ he announced.
‘Of who?’ asked Curly.
‘Me, obviously!’ cried Brian. ‘The style is influenced by Pig Island’s greatest artist, Pigasso.’ He saw the blank look on the young trainee’s face and sighed. ‘Are you familiar with Pigasso’s portraits? They do look a bit weird.’
‘Oh …’ Curly was still confused. ‘Um … why?’
Pete jumped in to help. ‘Have you never seen a photo of Pigasso? He was one weird-looking pig himself.’
‘Really?’ asked Curly.
‘Let’s just say, he was no oil painting,’ said Pete.
Peregrine stomped off, muttering something about what the modern generation was coming to. Brian tried to ignore all of this. He knew artists had to suffer for their art, but surely there had to be limits. Anyway, he needed to concentrate on his next work, a still-life painting of a bowl of fruit. It took him ages to arrange the fruit on the table until it was just so.
Finally he stepped back to his easel and began to slap paint on. He was aware of his team-mates watching every brushstroke.
‘You’re doing the apple!’ cried Curly, recognizing the swirl of red on the canvas. ‘It looks like an apple, too!’
Brian nodded. ‘Yes, but I’m not just painting the outside of the apple … As an artist, I want to get INSIDE the apple.’
Curly blinked. ‘Like a maggot?’
‘No, no,’ Brian cried. ‘You see … when I paint the apple, it’s as if I AM the apple. Do you understand?’
‘Oh, we understand.’ Pete’s grin stretched across his snout. ‘But you’re not an apple, Brian – you’re a nut!’
The door slammed behind them and the PiPs mechanic, Tammy Snuffles, came into the common room. ‘Did someone mention food? I need a snack!’
She marched up to the bowl on the table and grabbed an apple from the top. Before anyone could stop her she chomped into it, sending a spray of juice and pips everywhere.
Brian couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘WHAT are you doing?’
Tammy took a second bite. ‘Just having one of my five a day,’ she replied through a mouthful of apple.
Brian threw down his brush. ‘Great! Now I’m going to have to get more fruit!’ He stomped off, complaining, ‘Why are artistic geniuses never understood?’
‘Sorry, Bri!’ Tammy called after him. She looked at the other pigs and shrugged. ‘Do you think he’d mind if I had a banana as well?’
But there was no time for anyone to reply. Just as Brian returned with a fresh supply of fruit, the Alarm Squeal sounded.
‘KWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!’
Somewhere in Animal Paradise there was a problem that only the Pigs in Planes could handle.
Brian immediately pulled off his beret and smock: he was no longer Brian Trotter, misunderstood artist; now he was Brian Trotter, medical officer in the world-famous crime-fighting, jet-flying Pigs in Planes!
As the PiPs ran for the exit, he glanced sideways at Tammy.
‘What’s that you’re eating?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Nothing,’ Tammy answered, quickly swallowing her mouthful of banana.
Minutes later three SkyHog jets were in the air, with trainee Curly in the passenger seat of Pete’s plane.
As usual, the PiPs radio operator, Lola Penn, detailed the mission over the radio. ‘Set your flight course for Monkey Island,’ she told them. ‘You’ll like this mission, Brian. You’re going to an art gallery.’
Lola explained that their destination was the world-famous National Primate Gallery, the home of the finest works of art in all of Animal Paradise.
‘Don’t they keep the Mona Fleasa there?’ asked Tammy.
The Mona Fleasa was the most famous painting in Animal Paradise. Painted more than four hundred years ago, it showed a young monkey with her hands calmly folded in front of her dark dress. But the most memorable thing about it was the smile on the monkey’s face.
‘Ooh, we learnt about the Mona Fleasa at school!’ Curly piped up. ‘I always wondered about that funny little smile on her face. What IS she smiling at anyway?’
Brian’s voice came over the radio. ‘The Mona Fleasa’s smile is the most famous in art history. It’s usually described as …’
‘Weird?’ cut in Tammy.
‘Toothy?’ guessed Pete. ‘Smug? Gappy? Creepy?’
‘… mysterious,’ said Brian. ‘No one really knows why she’s smiling. It’s art’s greatest unanswered question – hundreds of books have been written about it.’ Brian sounded suddenly nervous as an awful idea hit him. ‘Lola, please tell me nothing has happened to the Mona Fleasa!’
‘Nothing has happened to the Mona Fleasa …’ said Lola.
Brian let out a long breath. ‘Thank goodness!’ he said.
‘… except it isn’t there,’ the radio operator finished.
Brian was so surprised he jerked the controls and his SkyHog wobbled in midair. ‘What?’ he cried. ‘The greatest art treasure in all of Animal Paradise has been stolen? When?’
‘Let’s see. It happened –’ there was a rustle of papers as Lola checked the details – ‘three days ago.’
The SkyHogs were flying at top speed to Monkey Island, but suddenly their speed didn’t seem to matter so much.
‘Erm, they’ve waited a long time to call us, haven’t they?’ said Tammy. ‘I’m no expert on art theft, but the robbers could have stopped for a weekend city break and they’d still have had time to make a clean getaway!’
‘I agree it’s strange,’ said Lola. ‘You’d better get to the museum as soon as you can. The curator there is a colobus monkey called Robin Pedalbin. I’m sure he’ll explain everything. Good luck, PiPs!’