Saturday · October 31, 2026 · The finale
The Golden Snout Awards
A fictional send-off from the pigs, built from a very real week. Best enjoyed while somebody else watches the luggage.
Saturday was travel day. Which meant the vacation was coming to an end.
The pigs had filed an objection.
Unfortunately, they had written it on a cocktail napkin, and Yellow had used the other side for a breakfast order.
“Before anybody leaves,” Rainbow announced, “we have official business.”
Blue opened the suitcase. Inside were three envelopes, several suspicious receipts, and a golden slipper.
“Where did you get that?”
“It was a regular slipper,” said Red. “I improved it.”
Blue looked at the gold paint on Red’s hooves.
“Please tell me you didn’t improve anything belonging to the hotel.”
Red quietly stood in front of a very shiny plant pot.
Angie: The Golden Slipper Award 🏆
Rainbow cleared his throat.
“Our first honoree began this vacation by inspecting the floor at extremely close range.”
“Thorough work,” Blue said. “No clipboard. All commitment.”
But Angie’s week had been much bigger than one fall. There had been the banana crown, the games, the beach shopping, the surprise $60 bird pictures, and an egg chair large enough to reconsider returning home.
She had even defeated a supposedly broken watch by taking off its case.
“Eight thousand, two hundred and seventy-two steps,” Blue read.
Yellow looked down at his own hooves. “Do trips to the buffet count separately on the way back?”
“Why?”
“Heavier load.”
Then Rainbow read Angie’s words about everyone experiencing a place like this at least once in their life.
For a moment, nobody made a joke.
That was what she had been doing all week. Taking it in. Sending pictures home. Finding something else to enjoy.
“For getting back up and making the most of every day,” Rainbow declared, “Angie receives the Golden Slipper Award for Outstanding Vacation Recovery.”
Her certificate came with honorary membership in the Snot Nose Pig Patrol and the title Queen Bug of the Oversized Egg.
Blue added a footnote: Technical support provided remotely by Jerry. Actual repair performed by Angie.
“Fair,” said Rainbow.
Mark: The Umbrella Survival Award ☂️
Red stepped forward carrying Mark’s trophy.
It was shaped like an umbrella.
Blue took it away.
“We talked about this.”
They substituted a small paper drink umbrella, mounted safely inside a box.
“Mark,” Rainbow began, “you faced an airborne beach accessory and continued vacationing. You also publicly described being photogenic as a gift.”
Yellow studied the pool-bar picture.
“Does the gift come with a receipt?”
“We’re being nice today,” Blue reminded him.
Mark had supplied his share of the running commentary, including confirmation that a giant turtle bug had been spotted on Jerry’s map. He had also established a dependable resort contact.
“Felix,” Blue read. “Preferred bartender.”
“Emergency contact?” asked Red.
“Different department.”
“For surviving the umbrella, keeping the jokes coming, and knowing who to see at the bar, Mark receives the Umbrella Survival Award.”
His honorary patrol title: Director of Shade Safety and Felix Relations.
“Does that come with responsibilities?” Yellow asked.
“One,” said Rainbow. “Keep Red away from the umbrellas.”
Blue frowned. “That’s a full-time job.”
Shanna: The Fifth Pig 🐷
Rainbow lifted the last envelope.
“And now, the applicant who has been with us all week without noticing.”
Blue unrolled her record. It hit the floor.
Birds. Monkey. A wave that nearly took her out. Dancing. Green ears. A suspicious interest in the bushes.
And finally, the message the committee had been waiting for:
“I actually have snot dripping out of my nose! Ur story is coming true!”
Red wiped a green drip from his own snout. “Natural talent.”
“She blamed airport bacon,” Yellow said.
“That explanation remains under review.”
Shanna had even submitted a membership question herself: Does the fifth pig get to stay?
Rainbow turned over the envelope.
MEMBERSHIP: APPROVED.
PERMISSION TO EXTEND VACATION: NOT WITHIN OUR BUDGET.
“We spent it on bird pictures,” Blue explained.
“And the arcade,” Red added.
“And a fruit basket,” said Yellow.
Everyone looked at him.
“It was a difficult week.”
Rainbow raised the certificate. “Shanna receives the Lifetime Achievement Award for Not Seeing What Is Right in Front of Her. And, effective immediately, she is our official fifth member.”
Blue held up a box of colored ribbons.
“Has she finally earned her colors?”
“She’s survived the week,” Rainbow said. “She’s earned the right to choose.”
Yellow peered into the box. “What did you give her?”
Rainbow held up absolutely nothing.
“Invisible. Custom order.”
“Looks great on her,” Blue said.
“I don’t see anything,” said Red.
“Exactly. Perfect fit.”
One last item of business
The ceremony was complete. Three vacation survivors. Three awards. Two honorary members. One official fifth pig.
Blue packed the certificates. Red packed the harmless little trophy. Yellow packed what remained of the fruit basket, which was the basket.
Then Blue found the receipt from the dream arcade.
Four passengers. Destination classified.
“We never settled this,” he said.
Rainbow attached a tag to the suitcase.
DESTINATION: JERRY.
REASON: HE STARTED IT.
“He’s already the emergency contact,” Red pointed out.
“And he answers technical questions,” Blue said.
Yellow climbed inside. “Does he have snacks?”
“We’ll put that in the arrival survey.”
Outside the pigs’ ridiculous ceremony, there was a real week worth remembering: time together, new friends, warm water, music, and all those little moments that kept arriving on Jerry’s phone.
Angie had said it best. Everybody should get to experience something like this at least once.
The pigs had tried to ruin a vacation.
Instead, they had helped turn it into a family story.
Rainbow lowered the suitcase lid.
“One last question,” whispered Red. “If Shanna is invisible, how do we know she isn’t in here?”
All four pigs froze.
From somewhere outside came a familiar voice.
“Jerry.”
Blue shut the suitcase.
“Send him the bill.”
On the luggage tag, beneath Jerry’s name, Rainbow had added one final line:
HANDLING FEE: $60.
The end. Please check your luggage for pigs.