Snowball's Chance Read Online Free

minutes. When Snowball came to the part about a better way, the sheep could not contain themselves, and broke out into a mantra of “a better way,” which lasted for five minutes.
    It was not until the black cockerel was heard a-cock-a-doodle-dooing that the Shropshires finally hushed. The doodle-doo of that cockerel was a harbinging to heed with terror, as it could mean only one thing—
    “Minimus is coming,” whispered Norma the cat.
    Minimus, like the leaders who’d preceded him, was always led by a heraldic black cockerel, who served as a kind of trumpeter. Upon entering the barn, the cockerel, still doodle-dooing, was immediately followed by a pack of dogs—the most vicious on the farm. These were Minimus’s personal guard. Directly into the barnhouse marched the procession—and behind them, marched Minimus himself.
    In spite of the similarities, Minimus, unlike his predecessors, left a distinct impression that he wasn’t too happy with it all. Yes, like the others, he did wear a whip. But unlike Squealer or Napoleon, he never used it, and hadbeen overheard saying he didn’t much like the damnable thing and only carried it because all the other pigs carried them—and he didn’t feel like going around, amongst a lot like that, the only one without a whip.
    Minimus was an old fat pig with a scholarly disposition. Always in his smoking jacket, he gave off an exceedingly literary, if conservative air. The fact of the matter was that Minimus didn’t really enjoy running the show—he’d rather be reading Shakespeare.
    Minimus’s dogs, however, were not so indifferent. Nor were they so easily frightened as had been those dogs at the barn door. All the animals were aware, these dogs would attack if Minimus gave the order. Their commander, Minimus’s Top Dog, was an all-gray brute named, aptly, Brutus. It was known around that Brutus would not back down—that he was not scared of anything. Once, he had taken on a den of snakes. Nevertheless, Brutus, being a dog who believed profoundly in the chain of command, prided himself on an absolute loyalty. So, when Minimus raised his thick snout and uttered, “Stay,” Brutus, with his soldiers, stayed.
    The dogs under Brutus’s command had an instinctual hatred of Snowball. To them, he was simply an outsider—at the time of Snowball’s departure, few of these shepherds had even been born, and not a one remembered him, or his hog’s smell. Grimly, they grrrr-ed. Dogs didn’t like change.
    Brutus snarled at the upstart—
    “So you tell them you’re Snowball—and they believe you. That doesn’t make it so.”
    This, agreed the animals, was a point that warranted some serious consideration. After all, even if theypresently believed it was Snowball, why should they continue to believe it was Snowball? Why, without any evidence to the contrary, they could easily change their minds, and decide it wasn’t Snowball.
    Minimus, his jowls shaking as he vigorously nodded his head in agreement, redoubled the argument of his Top Dog—
    “And even if you are Snowball, just because you say Snowball wasn’t bad, that doesn’t make that so, either.”
    And this, again, was a point well taken. Logically—and it made two of the sheep pass out to have it all in their heads—whether or not this pig was Snowball, Snowball might have been no good.
    “You,” Minimus contemptuously deduced, “might be an imposter and a liar.”
    The duplicity of this—the highly sophisticated level of deception that was suggested—made another one of the sheep pass out. And two of the geese needed to step out of the barn for air. And yet, as much as everyone longed for clarity, Minimus, having cocked his head to one side, was still making up his mind—as to who and what this pig and his goat represented.
    Norma the cat was the first to realize the only way this issue might be incontrovertibly resolved—
    “You have to tell us, Benjamin.”
    And Benjamin the donkey lifted his head to a