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HE WOKE SUDDENLY IN the night and sat up. It had all been a dream. Surely it had all been a dream? His heart sank. No: It had not been a dream; he could still taste lipstick! It had slithered into his mouth like alien slime. How could girls stand it?
Quietly he wiped the inside of his mouth once again with the corner of his sheet (not his nose-wiping corner) and grimly contemplated his future. Tomorrow at four he was going into battle, dressed as a girl. Aye-yi-yi! What if someone recognised him? He’d have to leave town, forever! But what about Tammy? He’d have to leave her too.
Could he leave her?
Was there any way out of this mess?
Arrrrgh!
#
THE DAWN FINALLY CAME, but he didn’t get up. Beau came in to give him a stir up. “You can do it!” she said cheerfully, “I know you can!”
He buried his head under his pillow. “How can you do this to me?”
“It wasn’t my idea! You’re the genius who thought of it. Anyway, cheer up. You’ll look a lot better in the other wig, I promise.” Then she sat on the bed and gave him a kindly pat on the shoulder, “Actually, Randy, You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you make a much better girl that you do a boy...”
Randy rose up with a roar and hit her with his pillow. She just grinned, “Buck up, baby brother. It’s all for the cause! With this footage I’ll have the most brilliant doc... I mean: we’ll make a brilliant case for freeing those pigs!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” muttered Randy as he started hunting for his socks.
“And you know,” added Beau very nicely, pausing at his door, “Tammy’s so impressed with you.” Her voice dropped to a soft, confiding tone, “You know, she told me later, in private, that she thinks you’re simply the nicest little girl she’s ever met...”
He tried to pillow her again, but she slipped out the door, laughing all the way.
#
STRAIGHT AFTER SCHOOL Randy had to tell Piho he wasn’t going truffle hunting as usual, “This bloody pig-farm thing – can’t get out of it – y’know, you make a promise...”
“Yeah, yeah,” growled Piho, “I know – you’re trying to impress your girlfriend – say no more. So maybe tomorrow you can wash the dog all by yourself – to make it up?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. So... ah... I guess I’ll see you later, at the cookery class?”
“Sure – guess so. Oh – and bring those other pig-apples, okay?”
“Sure.” There was an uncomfortable silence,
“Cripes, look at the time! I’ve gotta go!”
“Have fun, Greenie!”
Randy biked away, feeling bad. It seemed like the more he got on with Tammy, the crabbier Piho got. Was he jealous or something? But he didn’t have much time to ponder this. Twenty minutes later he was wearing Tammy’s tights, a pleated tartan mini-skirt, the brunette wig that Beau had illegally acquisitioned from the school drama room and a old pair of Myra’s shoes (slightly too big). Then it was time for the camera harness.
“Ugh,” he complained as the weight went on, “glad I’m not a girl.” Oops! Myra scowled and Tammy pulled her lips tight over her teeth. Quickly he tried to say something to make up for it, “Uh, but I guess, like, that they’re not quite as heavy, eh?”
He should have just kept his trap shut.
Finally, at twenty minutes to zero-hour, Beau finished working on his face and Ponga held up the mirror. When Randy saw ‘Rhonda’ again his knees went weak and his brain sort of flushed away down a pipe. He couldn’t do it! He just couldn’t do it!
“Randy,” said Tammy just then, gazing into his eyes, “You are so brave. I’ll never forget the sacrifice you’re making today for those poor pigs.”
He smiled weakly and said, with all the bravery he could muster, “Let’s do this!”
“Right on, Rhonda!”
And so Rhonda strode forth, with her impressive chest and her slender thighs, and hastily clambered into the back seat of Myra’s car. They set off. Ponga and Justin went on Ponga’s motorbike. Halfway there Randy had the most terrible thought yet: what if Boyd recognised him?
At the last corner they stopped to turn on the camera. It was Show Time!
As the car moved again Tammy squeezed his hand tightly and gave him a quick kiss on his perfect perfumed cheek. “You’re wonderful,” she whispered.
#
THEY ARRIVED EARLY. Too early for Boyd, it seemed. The front yard was empty except for Boyd’s Mercedes and one other vehicle, a old dirty ute. They all got out, to be instantly assailed by the stench of pig-poop. Justin looked around, puzzled, “He said he’d meet us right here.”
“Right,” said Myra with militaristic fervour, “Then let’s catch him at it!”
Randy wondered exactly what she hoped to catch him ‘at’.
The first building they came to looked like Boyd’s office and they peeked in. It was clean and ordered, with new furniture and an expensive looking computer. Fresh coffee waited in the coffee-maker and two plates of fancy biscuits were laid out on a low table.
Myra glanced around and growled, “Won’t fool us!”
She lead them on, between two ugly concrete buildings towards the back of the complex. Inside the buildings they heard the sound of pigs grunting and scuffling. Then, just as Myra had spotted some doorways, they heard Boyd’s angry voice.
“...I don’t care! I want it locked, now! This unit will have to do! Now get the straw down fast! Geez! Of all the excuses! A teething baby!”
“I’m sorry sir,” replied a grudgingly submissive voice, ‘but you didn’t tell me this afternoon was so important, and my wife can’t drive.”
“Well she’s gonna have to learn! If those bloody Greenies don’t go away smiling then she’ll be out looking for a job, ‘cos you won’t have one!” Moments later Boyd himself came stalking out of one of the doorways, saw them, and stopped dead. Suddenly his big politician’s smile switched on.
“Ah, here you are already! Excellent! Come back to the office for refreshments and I’ll start by explaining my business philosophy...” He strode towards them, shoo-ing them back as if they were sheep, “...You see, the essence of modern management is to...”
But Myra stood still, “No,” she said firmly, “I think we’ll look in there first.” She pointed to the other building, ‘Unit One’.
“Ah, no!” said Boyd anxiously, “That one is... unfortunately ... quarantined. Yes; you see we keep the piglets away from the others to isolate them from potential environmental factors. Now Unit Two...”
Myra ignored all this and headed resolutely for the door of Unit One, beckoning ‘Ronda’ along with her. Boyd moved to block the way. Myra sidestepped. Boyd blocked again. Ponga tried for the door, and then Tammy. Boyd backed up, still managing to guard the way. Then Randy felt two hands on his shoulders, propelling him straight at Boyd.
“Mr Boyd,” said Myra right behind him, “this is Rhonda, our official observer from the Auckland branch. And she is going in!” To Randy she whispered, “Chest out, Rhonda.”
The gap closed, with Rhonda’s impressive forward battlements leading the way. Boyd watched her advancing inexorably towards him with a mixture of interest and alarm, then, with only centimetres to go, he gave way. Randy suddenly found himself slithering into a gloomy space, nearly losing his footing on the mucky concrete floor. The smell was overwhelming.
The others poured in behind him, with Boyd in their midst shouting hastily, “This unit is kept in darkness deliberately, you know, to protect the piglets from ...”
“This is disgusting!” shouted Myra, the moment she could see into the pens.
“Filthy!” added Tammy, holding her nose.
“Where’re these piglets, anyway?” demanded Ponga.
Just beside him Randy heard Myra whisper to Justin, “Find the light switches.”
“It’s not normally this dirty,” Boyd was shouting above the din, “I’ve had a few staff problems - settling in period - actually it’s a good example of how it was when I took over - quite disgraceful! Now come across to Unit Two and I’ll show you the improvements I’ve made...”
Suddenly there was a burst of light as Justin found the switches. Instantly Randy found himself hoisted bodily up the side of the nearest pen. For several seconds he felt himself wobbling precariously on the edge as two large porkers shuffled towards him, grunting enthusiastically. The camera was running but he wasn’t sure it was seeing anything - the jacket was a bit twisted.
Boyd, meanwhile, was hurrying towards the light switches shouting crossly, ‘I will please ask you not to play with my systems!”
Off went the lights. But they had seen enough.
Myra relented and let Boyd take them on his planned tour of ‘Unit Two’ where cleaner looking pigs gambolled happily in clean concrete pens on fresh straw, dining on the perfect vegetables that Boyd merrily tossed to them. In the background, Boyd’s solitary worker, Keith, moodily finished tossing down new straw. The smell wasn’t nearly as bad.
Then they were led on to what Boyd obviously regarded as his piece-de-triumph; the new methane digester. “This is one of only five of its kind in the country,” he said enthusiastically, “I had it installed because I believe so much in the environment! You see, despite your idealism, it’s going to be practical business decisions like this that will actually save the environment...”
Meanwhile Randy studied the digester with interest, leaning back to let the camera see it all. Then he turned his chest towards Boyd, thinking it was time to get a good shot of the guy blathering on. Boyd noticed this and flashed him a particularly friendly smile.
– Oh my gosh! –
The camera quickly went back to the methane digester.
“Tell me, Mr Boyd,” Ponga finally interrupted, “if you’re so keen on methane production, how come this thing isn’t even turned on?”
“Sorry?” asked Boyd, taken by surprise.
“From what I can see, this machine isn’t running.”
“And what would you know about it?” asked Boyd sneeringly.
“Oh,” said Ponga calmly, “I just happen to have a Diploma in Agricultural Technology.”
“Well,” spluttered Boyd, “then you will see...” he quickly glanced at the computerised controls, “...that it is simply in stand-by mode, and that is exactly how I want it because as it just so happens that I was about to set the...” he quickly poked at some buttons and peered at the screen, “...Production Cycle into action. There!”
“Is you hopper full?” asked Ponga, “If it’s not completely full your cycle will cost you more in inputs than in outputs.”
Boyd glared at him but answered smoothly, “I was just going to top it up.” He hurried to a little tractor parked nearby and started it up. It had a big scoop on the front. It was obvious that Boyd liked driving it, but wasn't very good. He rammed the bucket into a heap of pig manure and scooped some up. Then he swung it around and lifted the scoop up to the big hopper that was built directly over the methane holding tanks.
But Randy did not get to see the operation completed. Beau suddenly whispered into his ear, “Rhonda, come on!” She and Myra hurried him back between the buildings to the first building they had been in, only to discover it was now locked.
Keith the piggery worker was standing in the doorway opposite. “Sorry, girls,” he said, “Mr Boyd’s instructions. All locked now, ‘cept this one.”
“You’re covering up!” said Beau, “Come on, unlock this door for us!”
“Sorry, miss, Mr Boyd's orders,” repeated Keith. He didn’t look too comfortable about it. Randy kept the camera on him while Myra tried arguing, but to no avail.
Then Boyd arrived with the others. “Right, excellent,” he said, seeing the locked door and Keith on guard, “now come back to the office for some refreshments and I’ll tell you how my personal business philosophy is going to turn this facility into...”
“No!” interrupted Myra (much to Randy’s disappointment – those biscuits looked good), “We’ve had quite enough of your pseudo-environmentalist babble! We’ve seen exactly what we expected to see and nothing you say will change our minds! Not even you silly biscuits!”
Boyd just smiled and pulled some tickets from his pocket, “Well I’m glad I could help, and I hope to see you all at the Environmental Arts Festival this Saturday? Should be a great day! Here’s your complimentary tickets.” At first Myra refused to take them but Justin murmured something to her and she reluctantly nodded. Justin pocketed the tickets.
“Right,” said Myra, “let’s go!”
Randy was relieved to get back to the car and take some weight off his shoulders. As soon as they had driven away Beau lunged at Randy's chest extensions, unbuttoned his blouse and started checking the results in the view-finder.
“We got it!” she announced triumphantly, “Beautiful!”
Randy finally relaxed. It was over, and nobody had recognised him. Phew!