"I don't know. It was like a piece of driftwood, or perhaps a wooden sword... I really don't want to talk abou

"I don't know. It was like a piece of driftwood, or perhaps a wooden sword... I really don't want to talk about it, forgive me. But in a nutshell, the pig invited me to another romantic dinner, snuck up on me from behind and poked me in the back with this stick. I don't know what he expected, but it didn't work. I immediately realized he was trying to put a spell on me, and I was consumed by such rage as I've never felt in my whole life. I'm ashamed to recall the scene I made — I screamed, flipped over the table, splashed him with wine... Ha-ha, you know what? I'm not ashamed at all! The look of his unshaven snout dripping wine — it's my only pleasant memory of the whole evening!"