Call Pig Dog I’m called a tomboy since primary school. At that time, like those naughty boys in my class, I was so fond of playing tricks on others. From taping paper tortoises to our friends’ backs to soaking the most disagreeable teacher using water guns from an upstairs window, my friends and I tried all those seemingly interesting things to enjoy our carefree childhood. Nowadays, when retrospecting those bad little tricks, we would just laugh and joke. It seems that no one really cares about what children do and all those wrong doings should be forgiven. But still there is one thing that we regret till these days. It started from an April spring noon. Still in a daze after the long nap, I shuffled in the hallway and directly bumped into a man around the corner. I looked up to find who he was and immediately recognized him as the water bearer of our school. This unamiable middle-aged man lived in our school’s small warehouse with his wife and two sons. Looking hairy and unkempt, he always had a gloomy air around him. His eyes were glazed, deep set， frightening. His rough poker face made me instantly not sleepy at all and I awkwardly said:”Sorry. I just...” Not surprisingly, he spoke nothing, just cast a glance at me and then left. And it was at that moment that something evil occurred to me--I wanted to fool him. It must be fun. I kept walking, thinking about my plan and caught a glimpse of the warehouse which he lived. It was next to the stairs of our teaching building with a high, rusty iron gate. “It must be annoying if we knock that door heavily, isn’t it?”I murmured. What a “brilliant” idea! Excitedly rushing into the classroom, I couldn’t wait to tell my friends about what had happened and the super plan of mine. As expected, they all agreed my idea immediately and itched to have a try. After nearly all the people had left, we hid our schoolbags and sneaked up to the warehouse. Frankly speaking, I was a little afraid after all it was the first time to play knock and run in front of a monstrous giant. But I was lucky to get six companies. When I put my hand on that cold gate, my face blushed, my breath went faster and my heart was in my mouth. My friends were discussing what the water bearer would act. It seemed that there was a swarm of bees buzzing in my head. Suddenly, I took a deep breath, raised my hand, knocked heavily on that door and shouted:”Run!” Like scattered wild beasts, we swiftly fled to different hiding places. With one hand on my chest to quiet my breathing and the other one making a V-for-victory sign to my friends, I was shaking with strong emotions. What a breathtaking adventure! The bearer went out, looked around confused, and turned back toward his room. Seeing that, all of us broke into laughter. We were so excited that night and even phoned each other to decide our next step. We gave a name for this wicked game—call pig dog. In the following weeks, we were addicted to play this game several times a day and never felt bored with it. What’s worse was that many of the other classmates joined us since they discovered the fun of the game and all would like to have a try. It wasn’t a secret anymore. Sometimes, in order to give everyone a chance to enjoy the game in a day we even had to make a schedule. You could imagine how earsplitting and horrible the sound could be when more than 20 hands all together pounded on a single iron board. The water bearer went mad. No longer being a silent man, everytime he rushed out furiously, he would hurl something like ”You little bastards!”“You son of the bitch!”This poor man complained our evil conduct to the headmaster several times but never succeeded because there was no evidence. Things gradually went crazy and out of control. Although I began to think about ending this farce, it was too late. He left, in a summer June night, even without a word. The warehouse had a new owner. Our school had a new water bearer. But it wasn’t a new start for us. This savage act finally became a taboo in our class. We all closely guarded our secret. It was so unbelievable that we all grew up in a day, but truly there was something changed. We felt sorry for bullying a wretched man who was in a middle-aged crisis. Now, the whole thing is more like an illusion, a spectral to us. How could we do things like that? Maybe it’s our irresponsibility. Maybe it’s our libido for danger. Or maybe it’s our darkness inside.