DESCRIPTION
There were a certain number of set rules when you were a “guest” at Miles’. One was that you had to have your morning shower outside, in the garden. Miles would administer the shower himself, while enjoying his first cigar of the day. The lanky Scotsman never seemed to feel the cold, even when Spring was late in arriving, as was the case that year. But for the “guests”, it was quite another matter, of course. This fat one, whose name Miles couldn’t even bother to remember, was squealing like a hairy little pink pig.
“Piglet might be a good name for him,” Miles thought as he splashed more water on his helpless “guest”.