The slovenly wub might well have said: Many men talk like philosophers and live like fools.
the long-legged Martian go-birds, into the ship. Franco watched him disappear. He was just starting up after him, up the plank toward the port, when he saw it.
"My God!" He stood staring, his hands on his hips. Peterson was walking along the path, his face red, leading it by a string.
"I'm sorry, Captain," he said, tugging at the string. Franco walked toward him.
"What is it?"
The wub stood sagging, its great body settling slowly. It was sitting down, its eyes half shut. A few flies buzzed about its flank, and it switched its tail.
It sat. There was silence.
"It's a wub," Peterson said. "I got it from a native for fifty cents. He said it was a very unusual animal. Very respected."
"This?" Franco poked the great sloping side of the wub. "It's a pig! A huge dirty pig!"
"Yes sir, it's a pig. The natives call it a wub."
"A huge pig. It must weigh four hundred pounds." Franco grabbed a tuft of the rough hai
Excellent short, highly recommend.
I liked this story very much. Hope you do, too.
The spacers have had food spoilage so they go hunting on a planet landfall and capture a "wub"; a sloppy appearing piglike animal that should be good for a pork loin dinner or 2. Here's the wub (sorry). It's intelligent and likes to talk philosophy. Not what the hungry crewmembers really want. So who gets the upper hand? Can the wub talk it's way out of the pot? What other talents might it have? You'll see...