The Jabberwock

Snowball, Animal Hero: First Class
“Do you have a king?”
“No, go fish.”
Napoleon slammed the table in disbelief. “You have a king, I see it right there, Jones! You lying
buffoon!”
“Why were you looking at my cards, Napoleon?” Mr. Jones smirks “I may be a buffoon, as you
believe, but I am not a cheater. Keep cheating and see where that gets you.” Mr. Jones picks up
his bottle of alcohol and drinks it, staring deeply at Napoleon. “I thought you’d kick the bucket
by now, pig. Oh, excuse me, boar.”
“Comrades! Let us commence the game without this foolery! Jones is trying to distract us from
the reason we are here in the first place, to discuss how the farm will operate!” Squealer oinks. It
was a game of go fish and the tension rises each second. It is the pigs and the humans. Well,
except for Mr. Whymper, as he is on the pigs’ side but has some resentment for Napoleon. “That
does not matter, Squealer. He has a king!”
“Oh, quiet, boar. Keep barking up the wrong tree and you’ll end up-”
“I AM NOT A DOG, JONES.”
“Oh really? All you animals look and act the same, filthy, hungry, defenseless.” Napoleon leaped
out of his chair and onto the round, wooden table, ready to slaughter Mr. Jones the best he could.
“Comrades! Come on now, we are equal. Jones, you do have a king, it is the rules of go fish to
give up your card if you have it, making your opponents acquire more matches.” Squealer said
with the nine dogs behind his chair, growling “I thought you knew that.” Mr. Jones gave
Napoleon his king. Napoleon had another match. So far, in total, the pig side had seven matches
in total. Napoleon had three, Squealer had two, and Snowball was tied with Napoleon. “Do you

Snowball, Animal Hero: First Class
have a six?” Napoleon suspiciously asked. “No,” replied Mr. Jones. “I have a seven. Go fish.”
Napoleon picked up a card. “Snowball, do you have a two?”
“Go fish. Mr. Frederick, do you have a five?” Mr. Frederick handed over his five to Snowball.
Snowball was left with one card left. “Frederick, do you have a jack?”
“Yes.” Frederick said hesitantly.
“AH HAH! Comrades, we are triumphant!” Squealer shouted as Mr. Frederick gave his last card
to Snowball, which crowned the pigs victorious. Napoleon stared in disbelief. The pigs may have
won the battle, but Napoleon did not win the war. He was stricken with discontent. How could
Snowball, out of all people, win before me? Napoleon grabbed a glass of whiskey and toasted the
other pigs. “Comrade Napoleon, are you not riddled with joy over our victory? Because of
Snowball’s participation, we are now able to discuss expanding Manor Farm!”
“Yes, Snowball’s participation. Alright then, how will we broaden the farm?” Napoleon said
unenthusiastically. Snowball stepped onto the table, and stepped on Napoleon’s trotter. “First, we
rebuild the windmill, which will give us electricity.” Napoleon scoffed at Snowball’s words
“With electricity, we are able to use technology to better our comfort, performances, and
lifestyle.”
“Ah! Snowball, that is a fantastic idea. We should start now, what do you think, comrades?”
Squealer said. The humans and animals all nodded in agreement, even Napoleon. Secretly,
Napoleon was against this act, as it praised Snowball, but to gain their trust, he had to fake his
trust. “Well, Snowball, a great idea! But who will build this windmill?” Napoleon wondered.
“Seeing as some failed to rebuild it many years ago, the humans will build it. They did not
contribute to our pleasantful win of cards.” The humans looked at each other and then back at
Snowball. “Yes, comrade.” They said in unison.

Snowball, Animal Hero: First Class
“Why us?” Mr. Jones asked.
“Snowball just said it, did he not, Jones?” Squealer sayid intimidatingly. Four out of nine dogs
growled at Mr. Jones. Snowball stepped down from the table and the other five dogs growled.
“Jones, my dogs would be more than happy to show you why you are building the windmill.
Unless of course, you do not need directions?”
“I-” Mr. Jones said with fear in his voice “I do not need directions. Thank you leader, Snowball.”
The humans walked out of Mr. Jones’ house, went to the back of the barn, and gathered materials
for the Windmill. With three humans, it could take a little less than a year at least. Napoleon was
baffled at how easily they listen to Snowball. He desired that manipulation and respect. The
humans were ready, for the most part. Ready to improve the farm, just as Snowball told them to.
Twelve hours later, at 9am, as the humans worked on the windmill, Mr. Whymper tripped over
something hard. Not rock hard but stiff. He bent over and blankly stared. Squealer noticed Jones
had stopped working. “Jones, what is happening over here?” Squealer looked down “AH!
Comrade, Snowball!” Snowball was dead. He had dark red cuts all over his body. The cuts
spelled out “SNOWBALL, ANIMAL HERO: FIRST CLASS” in bold red blood. He looked like
a cutting board. “WHO HAS COMMITTED SUCH TREACHERY?! ALL OF YOU, LINE UP
AGAINST THE BARN IMMEDIATELY!” Squealer yelled so loud that Napoleon jumped up
from his bed, and rushed out the house. The humans, lined up against the barn, were terrified.
They started blaming each other. “Comrade Napoleon, our good friend Snowball was massacred
by these… IDIOTS!” Squealer stuttered, “We must find out who did it.”
“COMRADE SNOWBALL?! No! It can’t be!” Napoleon said unconvincingly.

Snowball, Animal Hero: First Class
“Squealer, if I may, Napoleon does not seem too sorrowful over our leader’s passing. Yes, I am a
human, but I was working on the windmill. You saw it! Did you not?” Mr. Jones said
desperately, trying to stay alive. “You know what, Jones? I actually agree with you.”
“WHAT?! Squealer, my right hand, you know how much I value our population of pigs! I would
never murder my own comrade.”
“You lie, Napoleon. No, I don’t know how much you value us because you fail to!” Squealer
intimidatingly pointed at Napoleon. Nine ferocious dogs appeared behind Napoleon, they barked
savagely, like they already knew what to do to him. Napoleon was scared out of his mind. The
dogs began to chase him and Napoleon ran in a circle. As he ran, the ground felt as though it was
breaking. Barely making it out, he ran into Mr. Jones’ house, the walls were wavy, like a mirage.
Napoleon rushed upstairs, dogs on his tail, and ran into the master bedroom. The bed was as tiny
as an atom, everything else differed in size. He jumped out of the tall, huge window into the
other side of the farm. Before Napoleon fell to his death, he noticed how the other side of the
farm was red and bloody. He saw hallucinations of Snowball and Mr. Jones, mouths wide open
staring at him. Squealer hurried behind the nine dogs, he smirked. That smirk then turned to
mush, mushy like oatmeal, him and the nine dogs melted.
“AHH!” Napoleon screamed as he woke up. He felt a rush of adrenaline. He was shaken and
looked around. The nine dogs slept in the room with him. He got up, and accidentally tipped over
a bottle of whiskey, it was mostly empty. Napoleon picked the bottle up and stared at it for
almost a minute. He broke it on the wall and looked around the room, nervously. Nobody will
cross me. He proceeded to brutally murder his nine dogs one by one, some of them got up,
yelped and tried to run or fight back. But the broken bottle was so sharp that the dogs could not
bear it. He stabbed them one by one, making sure they were dead. Napoleon stumbled and

Snowball, Animal Hero: First Class
looked under the outside of the window, painted on the wall of the barn was “ALL ANIMALS
ARE EQUAL BUT SOME ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS”. He slowed down his
breathing, remembering that he had control. Control of himself and control of the farm. He did
not die. He did not die. Did he kill the dogs? He did not kill the dogs. They were never a threat.
Snowball is gone. Snowball is gone. Jones is gone. Manor Farm is his.