“Stand back, Piggy,” Rooster warned as sparks flew between the clamps in his claws and the acrid stench of ozone began to fill the morning air. “The Rooster’s got no desire to be makin’ bacon this morning.”

“Just be careful, huh? That’s my wife’s Bunny,” Piggy responded as he shuffled backwards.

Rooster dropped the Bunny ear he was holding and glanced back at Piggy.

“This is not your ride, Pork-chop?”

“No, the Bunny belongs to my wife. I ride a Jag.”

“And where is your Kitty now?”

Piggy shrugged. “She must’ve taken it this morning when the Bunny didn’t start.”

Rooster stood up and settled the goggles back on his comb. He stared skyward, pondering this new development.

“That just don’ fly with the Rooster. Sticks in my craw, it does,” he proclaimed. “Ain’t no way to treat the Pig.”

Rooster turned to Piggy, the jumpers sending a steady stream of sparks into the grass and open mouth of the Bunny.

“Where,” he asked slowly, “can we find the Mrs. Piggy?”

Piggy gulped nervously.

“Get in the truck, Pig.”