Construction paper pigs are haunting my thoughts

I have another picturebook project due on Wednesday.

The assignment? Write a story (preferably a retelling) and create five pictures with five different emotions using only 4 colors (black and white were required).

I've spent over 20 hours on this project so I figured I might as well post pictures. It's too bad I drew way cuter pigs in my concept images than I could really manage with scissors and an exacto. Oh well, this is the best it's going to get.


Roscoe loved almost everything about being a pig. He loved to hunt truffles with his keen piggy nose, he loved to wallow in his splashy mud puddle, and he loved to snuggle down in his soft straw bed.

But Roscoe did not love being alone.

He tried to make friends with the other animals, but the rooster woke up too early, the mud made the sheep too messy, and the cow deemed the straw too itchy. Worst of all, nobody could tell a truffle from a turtle!

“If only finding a friend was as easy as finding a truffle,” cried Roscoe.


As rain began to beat down from the sky, Roscoe sought shelter in the barn. Suddenly a flash of lightning revealed a shadowy figure looming in the door. It was splattered with mud and did not look like any animal Roscoe had seen on his farm.

“Don’t you just love storms?” the figure asked him. “The downpour makes the most marvelous mud. Oh, is that straw? I do enjoy a nice straw bed. What a sweet place this is. My name is Rosie, by the way.”

Roscoe blinked. The figure was not shadowy after all, but covered in the must unusual black and white splotches. And she loved mud and straw. But could she hunt truffles?
“You can sleep in the straw if you’d like,” Roscoe told her.
“Oh that would be lovely,” Rosie said.

Roscoe slipped straight off to sleep, but Rosie lay awake for a long time.

The most wonderful smell kept tickling her nose. Finally she could not stand it. She rooted to the bottom of the straw pile until she uncovered . . .

Roscoe’s truffles.

They made a most satisfying midnight snack.

“How did you sleep, Rosie?” Roscoe asked the next morning.

“Not very well,” she yawned. “Did you know some silly left their truffles right at the bottom of the straw pile?”

“What a silly indeed,” Roscoe answered. “Though I know where we can find some more . . .”

And so Rosie stayed with Roscoe and together they loved everything about being pigs.