I woke up to someone
banging on my door and Pocket barking. Transitioning to the mortal side
has not curbed her from doing so every time she heard a knock. We both
got out of bed, opened the door, and saw Geordie, with a rope over his
shoulder, and Sabrina and Tango were standing behind him. I welcomed
them inside and offered them some bacon cereal, but Geordie said there
was no time.
"Have you heard the legend of Franklin T. Pig?" he asked. I replied that I had not. He ceded the floor to Sabrina, the investigator.
"There was a tribe in Africa that lived in the shadow of a volcano," Sabrina explained. "To make sure it stayed dormant, they would sacrifice a pig every month. It worked until Franklin, who, when he was sacrificed, caused the volcano to erupt. There was no record of Franklin ever reaching the Bridge. But, there is a legend."
Tango picked up the story. "We know everything that passes from the mortal world comes to the Bridge," Tango said. "But, no one had ever thought about dormant volcanoes resurfacing here. I think that Mount Dog Leg, in the Angel Mountains, is actually Franklin's volcano, and he is still down there."
I admitted it was a fascinating story but asked why it concerned me.
"Franklin is a pig at the bottom of a volcano," Sabrina explained, "with all that heat and fire. He's roasting down there."
"It's the sacred mountain of bacon," Geordie said excitedly.
I had heard the legend of a volcano filled with bacon, but I thought it was a myth. Now that Sabrina had a location, I knew we had to look for it.
We set off towards the mountain at noon-time. It was a lengthy journey, and we split up the travel between flying and walking. It was 3:00 when we arrived. Since my three friends had found the volcano, I took it upon myself to figure out how to get the bacon from inside. I had a simple plan. I was throwing Pocket into it.
I hadn't told her my plan, and when I told her to jump in the crater, she barked that she balked. I was furious and said to her that she was letting the team down. Geordie stood between us and played peacemaker. He was willing to get lowered into the volcano.
We put Geordie in a basket and lowered him. We were almost out of rope when it hit bottom. We had told Geordie to tug twice when he wanted to come up. A minute after we lowered him, we felt the tension and brought what we thought was Geordie to the surface. But, instead of it being our friend, it was Francis the Pig.
He was relieved to be out of the mountain finally. He had become trapped down there, and, just as the legend said, he kept burning. Luckily, he got a new body every time it happened, but he had to live with his former body's remains for decards.
"You mean, it's true?" I asked.
"Yes, it's a volcano full of bacon." We asked where Geordie was. "He said he wanted to stay and eat it all, and I replied it was okay as long as he doesn't light a match. That will ignite the volcano."
Then the ground began to shake. I asked if Francis was sure he told Geordie. The pig said he couldn't remember. Swine are so unreliable.
Suddenly, there was a great rumble down under, and the volcano erupted. A thousand pounds of bacon shot into the air, with Geordie riding the top like a cowboy. When the eruption ceased, it eased him down. There was nothing but crispy bacon for miles, and we could only get home by eating our way out. It took us about 20 minutes.
When we finally got home, we removed our fat, swollen, bacon-filled bodies for ones not so bloated. Then we slept soundly, with satisfied bellies.
Without Francis to guard the volcano, we hope it will erupt again because bacon from a volcano is the best.