Howard R. Garis Curly and Floppy Twistytail the Funny Piggie Boys, Chapter 2: Floppy Gets His Name Lyrics

STORY II

FLOPPY GETS HIS NAME

One day, oh, I guess it must have been about a week after Curly
Twistytail, the little pig boy, had the adventure with the bear, and
his brother rescued him, as I told you in the story before this
one,--one day Curly's brother, who hadn't any name as yet, said:

"Oh, Curly, let's go out for another walk, and maybe something will
happen to us."

"All right," agreed Curly, "only I hope a bear doesn't happen. It's
no fun to think you're going to be turned into roast pork and eaten
with apple sauce," for that is what the bear was going to do, you
know.

So off the two little pig brothers started, and their mamma called
after them:

"Now, stay together. Don't go one on one path, and one on another,
as you did before, and have trouble. Stay together, and help one
another."

"We will!" they answered, and really they meant to, but, you see,
little pigs sometimes forget, just as real children do.

On they went together. Curly and his brother who hadn't any name,
except that sometimes people called him "Bub," or maybe "Son," or
even "Hey, Johnnie!" though that wasn't his real name at all.

Pretty soon, in about as long as it takes to eat a lollypop if you
don't hurry to get down to the stick part of it--pretty soon the two
piggie boys met Grandfather Squealer, who was the grandpapa of all
the pigs in that part of the country.

"Oh, ho!" exclaimed the old gentleman pig, "Oh, ho! How are you
today, Curly?"

"Very well, sir, thank you," replied the pig boy politely, and he
looked around to see if the curly kink had come out of his tail
where the bear had tied him to the round fence rail, but the curl
was still there.

"And how is this other little chap?" went on Grandpa Squealer, as he
took a pinch of snuff, and then looked in his vest pocket to see if
he had any spare pennies. "How are you, Bub?" he asked. "You haven't
any name yet, have you?"

"No sir," answered the brother of Curly. "I wish I had, though," and
he also wished that Grandpa Squealer would find a penny so that he
and his brother could buy a lollypop, and that wish came true, if
you will kindly believe me. For the old gentleman pig did find two
pennies.

"There now, boys," he said, "run along to the candy store. And maybe
you can buy a name for yourself," and he playfully pulled the ears
of Curly's brother. Then Grandpa Squealer sneezed again and walked
on, and so did the two boy pigs.

"I'm going to buy a corn lollypop," said Curly.

"I think I'll buy a sour-milk one," said his brother, for you know
little pigs, and big ones, too, like sour milk as much as you like
yours sweet. Isn't that funny?

So they walked on together, talking of different things, and pretty
soon they came to a place where there were two stores. One was
painted red and the other was painted blue.

"I'm going in the red store for my lollypop," said Curly.

"Oh, let's go in the blue one," suggested his brother. "Maybe I can
buy a name for myself in there. I am tired of being called 'Bub' and
'Johnny,' and names like that."

But the two brothers couldn't agree, so Curly went in the red store
and his brother in the blue one. The blue store was kept by an old
lady dog, and when the little pig, who, as yet, had no name,
entered, the old lady dog storekeeper looked over the counter and
asked:

"Well, little pig boy, what do you want?"

"If you please," he answered, "do you keep names to sell?"

"Why, what a funny question!" barked the dog lady. "The only names I
have are names of candy, and I'm sure you don't want any of those,
do you? There is peppermint and spearmint and cinnamon and lemon
drops and cocoanut kisses and lollypops and jaw-breakers and tootsie
rolls and chocolate--do you want any of those names?"

"No," replied the little pig boy, "I don't think I like any of those
names for myself. I wouldn't want to be called Cocoanut Kisses, nor
yet Lollypops, nor even Tootsie Rolls. Oh dear! I wish I could get a
name such as my brother Curly has. But maybe I will some day. And
now, if you please, I'll have a sour-milk lollypop."

So the old lady dog storekeeper gave it to the little pig boy, and
he handed her his penny. He was just taking the paper off the
lollypop, and was going to eat it--the lollypop, not the paper, you
understand--and go out and see if his brother had come out of the
red store, when, all of a sudden, a little puppy dog boy who had
just come in from school saw the pig boy in the store, and right at
him he sprang with a bow wow bark.

"Here! Come back!" cried the lady storekeeper who was the mother of
the puppy dog boy. "Let that little pig alone."

"I'm only going to play tag with him," answered the puppy dog, and
with that he sprang at the piggie and caught him by the ear. He
really didn't mean to, but his teeth closed fast on poor piggie's
ear, and there they stuck.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" howled piggie. "I'm caught! Oh let me go. Please let
me go!"

"Yes, let go of him at once, you naughty boy!" cried the doggie's
mamma, as she made a grab for his tail. But just then piggie began
to run, squealing as hard as he could, and as the doggie did not let
go of his ear, the little barking chap was dragged along too. And
then out from the red store ran Curly and he squealed and his
brother squealed, also, and the boy dog barked, and so did the
storekeeper lady dog, and such a time you never heard in all your
life! Oh! such a racket!

"Let go my ear! Let go my ear!" squealed the pig, and the doggie boy
tried to let go but he couldn't, until Curly got hold of him by the
left leg and pulled him loose.

"Oh dear! Oh dear!" cried the piggie who had bought the sour milk
lollypop. "Is my ear pulled off, Curly?"

"No, but it is hanging down like anything," said his brother. "I
guess its broken!"

"Oh, I am so sorry!" exclaimed the little boy dog. "I didn't mean to
do it. I was only going to tag you, but I slipped. Come in the house
and my mamma will put some salve on your ear, and I'll give you an
ice cream cone."

And just then Grandfather Squealer came past, and he saw Curly's
little brother, with his ear hanging down, going flippity-flop, and
the old gentleman said:

"Oh ho! I think I will call you Flopear, or Floppy for short. That
is a good name, and it just fits you." And so after that the second
little pig was always called Floppy for his ear never stood up again
but always hung down like a bell clapper. But the salve soon made it
well, and the storekeeper lady gave Floppy and Curly each an ice
cream cone.

So that's all now, if you please, but in case the butcherman doesn't
throw the loaf of bread at the candlestick and scare the lamp
chimney I'll tell you in the story after this about Pinky
Twistytail's rubber ball.