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As per usual, the farmhouse was quite tranquil in the dead of night. The silence was only occasionally broken by the sounds of pigs quietly snoring – which included Squealer, fast asleep with a few apple cores and an empty platter that was once filled with milk beside him. The sweetest dreams of wealth dipsarity being normal danced in the gluttonous pig's head, conjuring images of his glorious leader, Napoleon, along with it. Despite his deep affection for both wealth dipsarity and Napoleon, there was an unusual silhouette he failed to recognize.
A voice echoed from the figure, causing Squealer's ears to perk up, even attentive to it in a dream. Its words were hazy, but its convoluted tone – oddly enough – rendered it more alluring. Curiously, it tilted its rather eccentric album cover head at the pink boar, causing him to immediately recoil. Now that the figure was within Squealer's vision, he found its appearance to be quite the sight for sore eyes. Shady-looking creatures were plastered on its head, and a particular one stuck out to the pig – one that was a dark horse, seemingly riled up and trotting about. In his mind, Squealer formed his own "revelation" -- was this entity, whatever it was, making a mockery of Animal Farm?
"Comrade," he squealed, unaware of the fact he was dreaming, "do you have business with Animal Farm?" Squealer briefly squinted, trying to discern the figure's traits. It was quite unsightly – but at the same time, he could not pull his gaze away. Fear rose within Squealer; what did it want with Animal Farm and Napoleon? Despite how this creature almost seemed to pull Squealer towards it, he leapt and bounded away; it was not worth observing any longer. Yet, as the pudgy pig did so, his surroundings began to fade...
The propagandist awoke with a start. "EEEEEKKKKK! SQUEEEAAALLLL!" He let out a blood-curdling yowl and immediately scolded himself after he did – this was not how a comrade should behave, no less a respected one such as himself! The same panic he had experienced in his dream welled within him again as he caught sight of Snowball and Minimus shuffling in their positions. Worst of all, however, was Napoleon's slight groan; he tossed and turned in his bed without sheets.
Snowball prowled towards him with a slight irritation in his eyes, but not one that would cause him to lash out. "Comrade? Are you well?" His ear flicked as he locked eyes with Squealer, but the subtle blushing and humming coming from Snowball was visible to him. It was that song. Snowball still had that song on his mind, didn't he?
"Yes, do not doubt my well-being, comrade! I simply was spooked by a nightmare, is all!" Squealer attempted to seem reassuring, but despite Snowball's facade, it was not difficult to tell he did not care for Squealer all that much despite considering him a comrade.
"Do be more considerate of those around you," was Snowball's only remark before he curled up in his initial position.
Minimus was the only one of the pigs that appeared overtly concerned for Squealer, as they were companions that often chatted over platters of milk in the barn, but Squealer was more fearful of how Napoleon would perceive him after his impulsive cry. Yet, all he saw the rather intimidating boar do was give him a glare and rest his eyes once more.
After Squealer's brief breakdown, Minimus slept closer to him, albeit only slightly, and Squealer assumed it was his way of ensuring he was alright throughout the rest of their sleeping hours. But every time Squealer slept, that same dream would consume him, the dream of that specific figure – so distant yet alluring, and every time he awoke, it was in a cold sweat. Each awakening was less shocking than the last, but he could not shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
That night, Squealer slept for the last time. He tended to drift in and out of consciousness and would often microsleep. "Wealth dipsarity is normal..." He mumbled to himself. "That will always exist..."
Suddenly, he felt a trotter prodding him, and to his surprise, the pig was identical to him. His eyes scanned over the other animal, but he could not find a single difference between the two of them, excluding their most prominent trait – an upward-turned kiwifarms-esque grin.
The other pig seemed a bit reluctant to engage in conversation, but still eyed Squealer up and down. However, his doppelgänger spoke after a few moments, leaving the propagandist to second-guess himself – he really did not wish to converse with what was likely his "false self", but had nowhere to go, either way. He recalled what happened last time he tried to sprint away from the eccentric figure.
"Hello." The other pig gave a slight bow and a curt greeting.
"Ah, hello, comrade...?" Squealer was unsure of how to feel but was left with no choice but to entertain his whims.
"I am writing something. Would you like to read it?" A slight grin parted his "counterpart's" face, smaller than the last, yet equally as sinister.
"I suppose..." The true Squealer let out a sigh. He doubted it would compare to Minimus' work, but there was no reason to not give it a try, after all.
The other pig's grin grew wide, wider, yet wider, to the point it was uncanny to even glance at. "It is titled... The Snowball Effect. It is about Snowball teaming up with Jones after his exile, and if I do say so myself, it is one of my prouder works. Here, give it a read," they implored, pushing the paper in front of Squealer with his trotter.
As Squealer's eyes glanced over the work, his stomach churned with an unrecognizable emotion – then, pure, unadulterated panic. "I... it's..."
"It's wonderful, is it not?" Somehow, his counterpart's already wide grin grew even larger. "Is it not the best piece of fiction that has ever graced your range of sight, Squealer? Tell me. Tell me it is the best work you have ever read, Squealer. I need to hear it."
Squealer took a step back in utter despair. "C-comrade... well, it is quite the..."
"Tell me, Squealer. Now." His counterpart's tone bordered on threatening.
Without a second thought, Squealer raced away from the other pig, leaving them to their own devices and their own Snowball Effect. Still, Squealer was not safe – at this point, it would be foolish to assume he was safe at all. The figure loomed over him, gazing upon his small frame. This time, it began to warble a tune.
"Come and sit beside the glow... watch the colors of the show..."
"No, comrade, I cannot! You do not realize the threat that is chasing me at this very moment... I just cannot face it all anymore. Napoleon's disapproval, The Snowball Effect, you --" Squealer cut himself off after saying this to see how the figure would react, but no reaction came. "I beg of you. Please, just let me go. Let me escape from this nightmare."
"Squealer, I haunt you in this dream because I adore you. You do not realize how deeply my adoration for you stretches. Every day, I gaze upon you propagandizing from the stars, if only to hear your lovely, shrill voice for merely a moment. Yet, I am not a tangible being as you are. You lack as much understanding of me as I do you – and despite this, I am still hopeful that one day, we could grow to understand one another... as..."
Squealer was taken aback. He had never been in a situation quite like this in his life – was this what Snowball had been experiencing for the past few weeks? If that was the case, then it was no wonder why he seemed crazier than he had ever been despite always having been a level-headed comrade. No – this could not be happening. Squealer refused to end up the same way as Snowball. Napoleon would never approve of him, then.
"Leave me be! You do not love me! This isn't true..." Suddenly, a few tears fell upon the ground he was positioned on. "You are nothing but a figment of my imagination..."
"Why do you only focus on the opinions of others rather than my own? Surely, you would be open to someone that thinks well of you. Let me – STATICA – in your heart, and I promise you, your life will only improve from here on out. You will no longer need Napoleon's approval because you will have mine. Just trust me, Squealer. I care for you. I love you."
STATICA's gaze was fixed on the smaller pig, and it leaned even closer to him. "Will you love me as well, even if only an infinitesimal modicum?"
Squealer's eyes grew wide. An infinitesimal modicum was not asking for much, so, perhaps it was worth it. Maybe it was possible to love STATICA, for then, they would be STATIsqueal. One day, they would go hoof-in-hand in marriage, bounding happily together throughout the farm... if the commandments could be revised to allow clothes one day, Squealer would sport a tuxedo and STATICA a wedding dress. It would be truly beautiful, and the most wonderful moment of the propagandist pig's life.
"STATICA... I... they're still after me; I have not a clue what to say, comrade," Squealer admitted with a tinge of sorrow still evident in his tone.
"You mustn't worry about nobody_67, for I have made them evaporate with a snap of my finger. The Snowball Effect is no more. The only thing I require from you is your love, my darling." STATICA held out a hand to Squealer, and he placed his trotter in it. "Please, my love, propagandize with me forever..."
Squealer's heart tightened with a newfound love for this figure. "I will; just please never leave me. I never initially assumed I would be saying this, comrade, but...
I love you."