I met Piggy on the beach. He came crashing out of the trees, breathing heavy because of his ass-mar. He told me about his previous life. About his auntie, and about his parents, and how they were both dead deceased. He then told me confided in me that he did not want to be called Piggy as that was what they used to call him at school. I didn’t did not care as the name ‘Piggy’ was a funny one to me. But now, I know realise that I do not know any other name for him. I never bothered to ask.
And at the time, he did not seem like someone who could do much. He was handicapped by his ass-mar and blind without his specs. He couldn’t help with hunting, or help with the shelters. But Piggy had something the rest of us