How the Porcupines got their quills Short Story

A long time ago, when the world was young, there lived a young rodent. He was a pudgy thing, with small feet and coarse brown hair. He was bigger than his parents, Ratatouille and Rina, and was named Porky because he ate like a pig. Porky lived a pleasant life in a large forest. The lush green vegetation provided plenty of food and the gigantic trees were fun to climb and made excellent hiding places. From the top, Porky once saw a rabbit dive into a bunch of bramble below to escape from the jaws of a hungry wolf. The wolf tried to grab it and gnashed its fangs into the bramble but the thorns kept pricking into it and eventually, it gave up and dashed away. Porky was amazed by this and it was just one of the many exciting sights he witnesses on his daily adventures.

            Like any young animal, Porky was naturally adventurous, which made his parents very wary of letting him out of their sight.

            “Son, you must be careful. We are not the strongest animals in this forest, nor are we the fastest. For that reason, you must be careful that no predator ever catches you because you’ll become his prey,” Ratatouille told his son.

            “You must also never show your belly. It’s so soft, one small swipe of a claw could mean your life,” his mother, Rina, warned.

            Yet, like any child, Porky never took his parents’ concerns seriously. He continued to play and live a carefree life in the forest and was hardly ever on the lookout for danger. One day, Porky woke up from a long slumber with an enormous appetite. He wanted berries but he knew that the best berries were on the other side of the creek, an area he was never permitted to go to. He remembered an ominous warning his father once gave him about the dangers that were present on the other side of the creek when Porky asked what was there.

            “Dad, why won’t you let me play on that side?” Porky had asked. “It’s very pretty over there and I bet I could have just as much fun over there as I do over here.”

            “No Porky! You can never cross the creek to that side,” Ratatouille said. “It’s very dangerous over there and there are animals that can cause a lot of harm to you and can possible eat you. I don’t think you want to be eaten, right Porky?”

            “No dad. I guess not,” Porky reluctantly admitted.

            At the time when the conversation took place, Porky was much younger than what he was now. An eight month old rodent was much stronger than a 3 year old rodent, right? He contemplated whether or not to cross the creek but his ravenous and growling stomach soon convinced him.

            “If anything should try to eat me, I’ll just climb a tree. No big deal,” Porky reasoned to himself as he waded across the creek, the water splashing and drenching his fur up to his nostrils. He quickly spotted a thick brush heavy with the juicy crimson berries he longed for. He started eating them straight from the branches when he suddenly heard soft footsteps. He slowly turned around and saw a wolf stalking him, its long white fangs bared in a snarl dripping with saliva. Its fur bristled with every step and Porky could hear the faintest savage snarl emitting from it. Porky was terrified; he knew that the wolf would soon be close enough to pounce upon him and he’d be nothing but its next meal. Then he felt something prickly above his head: the bush’s needles. Porky remembered the incident with the rabbit and bramble and quickly started grabbing the needles and sticking them into his fur. In a few seconds, his whole body was covered with sharp, pointy needles.

            Confident but still nervous of his plan, Porky eyed the wolf warily but stood his ground. The wolf lunged at him but Porky instantly curled into a ball, protecting his belly and exposing his quills. The wolf yelped as it got a mouthful of needles and ran away coughing and crying in shame and anger. Porky was so astonished that he was safe that he darted back home to his parents.

            “Mom! Dad! Look I have thorns!” Porky proudly announced.

            “Thorns? Quick come here and let me take them out. Oh, Porky, what did you get yourself into this time?” growled Rina.

            “No, go get some too. They saved me from being eaten by a wolf. I stuck some pine needles into my fur and when that dumb canine came at me, all it got was a mouthful of needles!” Porky boated. From then on, all the rodents in Porky’s family used pine needles to protect them from predators. Over time they were called porcupines, after Porky, and they began to be born with the quills. So if you ever see a porcupine, try not to touch its quills.