Starting to sounder like a bad time

It had all started as a bit of harmless fun really, chasing the little striped squealers across the sand, not a mother boar in sight... until the hellish screaming of enraged mothers filled his ears. They were almost bigger than he was, with mean hooked tusks and frothing spittle flying from their yellow toothed jowls.

The tables had well and truly turned and Rip tore back towards the ocean, screaming at the top of his lungs for someone, anyone to come and save him from a fate worse than death. He didn't want to be pig food, no siree, but the hogs on his heels seemed pretty intent to make him so.

"speech"