Under the rug

Two weeks passed, but then it happened again.

John Smith was enjoying his tea while sitting in his chair. The chair was placed close to the fireplace. Sometimes there was a spark that flew out of the flames into the chimney. He took a sip from his tea. The tea wasn’t too warm and it wasn’t too cold. It had the perfect heat. He felt a little bit stuffed.
‘I might have eaten a bit too much.’ He mumbled to himself. Talking to himself happened a lot these weeks. He had two explanations for it. One, he felt too lonely, which he actually was.
‘I just need some company.’ He thought. ‘Or is it because I’m going crazy? Am I just hallucinating the bumps under the rug, those last weeks?’
That was the other explanation, for talking to himself, because of the bumps. He looked to the rug. It hadn’t happened for more than two weeks. He turned to the fire, but while doing so he saw the rug moving again. And there it was, the bump in the rug, almost like it heard him thinking that it hadn’t happened for so long. And thought let’s scare that poor Mr. Smith.

John Smith got out of his chair as fast as he could, pulled the chair up and held it above it’s head. The bump moved closer to his feet. John shrieked and jumped it the air. That scared the bump so the bump started to make a noise. Then out of nowhere there came an another bump and an another. Ten seconds later there were six bumps under the rug. They all made the same noise as the first one. It sounded like a pig, but not a normal pig. More like a zombie-pig, like you see them in the movies.
He walked to the end of the rug. There was only one bump at the end. He started to wonder: Should I look under the rug or let the bumps stay there? He thought about it and made his mind up. Curiosity won over fear. He was going to look what was underneath the rug. He grabbed the rug and lifted it up, but instead of looking for what was under the rug he dropped the rug again. He tried a few more times, but every time he was just a little bit too scared to check what was underneath. He lifted it up once more. But before he could look or put the rug back on the ground something ran past him. It was pink. It made that same zombie-pig sound. It was one of them. And it was a piglet.
Though it was a special piglet because it had blood-red sparkling eyes and the teeth were horrifying, but they looked cute. He pulled the rest of the rug up and found more zombie-piglets. All of them looked identically the same and all looked really cute.
‘So you guys have been terrorising me and my home?’ He said while laughing a little bit. Was this what he was scared of those last weeks? Piglets?
‘I shall call you all the race Beezlebub Bandersnatch. Agreed?’ He asked the piglets. The zombie-piglets oinked in agreement.