The Adventures of Higgledy Piggledy • BOOK 3
Text Copyright © 2025 David J. Tomlinson
All rights reserved.
Art Copyright © 2025 Loyola Press
All rights reserved.
Cover and interior illustrations: Janna Mattia
Additional illustrations by Julia Huby
ISBN: 978-0-8294-5800-8
Library of Congress Control Number: 2024952064
Published in Chicago, IL
Printed in China
25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 3 4 DC 10
One of the wonderful things about life—or, as Higgledy would say, one of the many wonderful things about life—is that we never know what tomorrow may bring. We make plans, but then tomorrow arrives and it’s not at all the tomorrow we planned. Life, it would seem, has a mind of its own, just like my bicycle: sometimes when I think I’m the boss, the chain comes off and I have to carry the bike instead of riding it. Then my bike is the boss. That’s an example of one of life’s little surprises
that I can do without, even though Higgledy is always telling me that if every surprise was a happy surprise, we’d forget to be grateful for them; therefore, Higgledy loves bad surprises because it means he’ll be all the happier when a good one comes along.
Of course, it is still helpful to make plans, even if we can’t guarantee that they’ll work out. Harem’s solution if his first plan fails is to make a second plan straightaway, and then a third plan if the second plan also fails, and then a fourth plan if the third plan fails, and then, well, he just keeps making new plans until he’s forgotten what he was planning in the first place. “No surprise there,” Snowy says.
And now you must be wondering what the big surprise is going to be in Higgledy’s new adventure. Okay, I’ll tell you. It’s—
No, I’m sorry. You’re just going to have to read the whole book to find out. Because the one thing I do know about surprises is this: it’s a shame to spoil t hem.
David J. Tomlinson
• Ch apter 1 •
The sun was shining on the town of Oinkers, and Mayor Crackling was feeling particularly light of heart. He was, in his own mind, a giant among pigs, which also made him the happiest of pigs.
Right now, all was well in the town. Pigs were at work and piglets were in school.
Mayor Crackling was proud of his town and proud of his position as mayor. He was the top dog, or rather, the top pig—the Kingpin of Oinkers.
Mayor Crackling especially liked to say, “kingpin” because it had “king” in it, which sounded even grander than “mayor.” He also liked to call himself “the big cheese,” probably because it made him
think of lunch. Mayor Crackling thought of lunch now. Such a happy thought—a large broccoli-stem burger with a side order of deep-fried carrot tops. Delicious. He deserved it, he told himself, because tomorrow would be an extra special day for him. What a happy mood he was in! What could possibly spoil it?
Higgledy Piggledy, the colorful, caring pig, and his best friends, Harem Scarem, the happy-hearted,
fleet-footed hare, and Snowy, the laid-back, jet-black sheep, suddenly appeared, walking slowly into town.
Mayor Crackling’s happy mood vanished.
The sight of Higgledy and his friends always meant trouble for the mayor. They didn’t share his sense of order. Mayor Crackling liked everything to be done in a very particular way and at a very particular time, whereas there was no telling which way Higgledy was going to do something or when he was likely to do it.
Just as Mayor Crackling was thinking of how annoying and unpredictable Higgledy could be, he saw that Higgledy was annoyingly and unpredictably NOT riding his red bicycle. He was also NOT towing Snowy behind him in his rickety, wooden cart, and Harem was NOT whizzing along on his skateboard. They were just walking. Why? They never just walked into town.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Mayor Crackling demanded. “Where is your bicycle and cart, Higgledy? Harem, where is your skateboard?”
Harem bounced his right foot up and down, unable to stay still. He looked ready to burst. His cheeks bulged, but his lips remained tightly shut. Snowy smiled her usual big smile, though it was perhaps even wider than usual. Higgledy answered quite casually, “Oh, we’re just minding our own business today.”
“We don’t want to attract any undue attention,” Harem said in one explosive breath.
“Why? What are you up to?” the mayor asked. “Nothing,” Snowy said. “What are you up to?”
“Me?” Mayor Crackling spluttered. He wasn’t used to being asked questions. It was his job to ask the questions. “Why I’m . . . I’m . . . it’s none of your business what I’m up to!”
“Well, then,” Higgledy said, “We’ll leave you to it.”
“That’s right. You just leave me to it,” Mayor Crackling said, as though he’d won a great victory. And Higgledy and his friends walked on.
Then Mayor Crackling realized he hadn’t gotten an answer to his question. Higgledy and his friends didn’t want to attract attention. Why? What were they up to?
• Ch apter 2 •
Mayor Crackling watched Higgledy and his friends walk toward Troughers, Willy “Ker-Ching” Snortem’s general store. Mayor Crackling was sure they would stop there for ice cream. Whenever they came to town, they always stopped at Troughers for ice cream. But Higgledy and his friends didn’t stop. They kept walking. Mayor Crackling was now more curious than ever. Something was definitely up. As the Kingpin in the town, he had to find out what it was. He had a responsibility to his fellow pigs and piglets.
Higgledy and his friends crossed the street and continued walking. Mayor Crackling followed them, hiding behind lampposts, mailboxes, and fire
hydrants. He was considerably wider than a lamppost, a mailbox, or a fire hydrant, so only a small amount of him actually remained hidden. But Higgledy and his friends didn’t appear to notice. They continued until they reached the town hall, which they entered.
Mayor Crackling crouched behind a fire hydrant with most of his rear end sticking out, blocking the sidewalk. He frowned quizzically. What could that troublesome pig want at the town hall?
“I bet he’s planning a concert,” Mayor Crackling thought. He didn’t like that thought at all. Concerts were noisy and made the piglets overexcited. They jiggled about, high-kicked their hoofs, and called it dancing. Afterward, they sang all the way home, tossing their hats and frilly bonnets into the air. This wasn’t the kind of wild behavior Mayor Crackling tolerated. Not in his town. Oinkers was for sensible pigs only.
Mayor Crackling waited patiently behind the fire hydrant (his rear end continuing to block the sidewalk) until Higgledy, Harem, and Snowy came out of the hall.
Once Higgledy and his friends were out of sight, Mayor Crackling strode quickly into the town hall where he confronted Streaky Perkins, the town’s head clerk. Streaky, never seen without a pencil
stuck behind an ear (sometimes both ears!), was a slender pig who looked as if he were shrinking inside his clothes.
“Perkins,” Mayor Crackling said, without even a hello. “What was Higgledy doing here?”
Streaky pretended to be busy with some paperwork, taking his pencil and scribbling random notes on several sheets of paper. “Oh, was Higgledy here?”
“You know he was,” Mayor Crackling said impatiently. “I saw him come in.”
“Oh, yes. You’re quite right,” Streaky said, scribbling more notes.
“Well? What did he want?”
“That’s a very good question. Thought you might ask it.”
“Well?” Mayor Crackling repeated, even more impatiently than before.
“Well,” Streaky said, “I can’t tell you.”
“What?” Mayor Crackling was “the big cheese.” He expected everyone to tell him everything. “Can’t tell me? Whyever not?”
“Because,” said Streaky, looking left then right as though he feared someone might be eavesdropping, “it’s a surprise.” Streaky tapped his snout with his pencil to emphasize the point.
Mayor Crackling gasped. “A surprise? In Oinkers? We don’t allow surprises in Oinkers. Oinkers is a town of well-ordered routine and predictable plans. I’m the mayor. I’ve decreed it.
I—” Mayor Crackling felt his chest expand with indignant rage.
Fortunately, the mayor’s chest was accustomed to expanding with indignant rage because it was something it was frequently asked to do. Unfortunately, his tight-fitting suit was nowhere
near as flexible as his chest. Any expansion of the mayor’s suit put more strain on its buttons than they were designed to take and PING, one of them would fly off at a dangerous speed, which is exactly what happened now. A rogue button ricocheted off Streaky’s snout and out the open window. Still, Streaky’s lips remained tightly sealed.
