• After Napoleon engaged with Mr. Whymper for trading purposes, he and the pigs decided it would be in their best interest to move into the farmhouse. Although the fourth commandment stated that, “No animal shall sleep in a bed,” Napoleon decided that it was in the best interest to the farm that Squealer go out and change the commandment.
    “Well what should I change it to, Leader, Comrade Napoleon?”
    Napoleon thought for only a moment or two, racking his tiny brain for a reasonable excuse that the brain-washed animals would believe. Then, a vicious smile gracing his face, he said, “Change it to, No animal shall sleep in a bed…with sheets.” He laughed and motioned for the rest of the pigs to join in.
    Squealer joined in the laughter as he said, “Yes Sir,” and went out into the night, silent as a crow, to re-write the law.
    All the animals slept soundly, oblivious to the deeds that were taking place inside the farmhouse. Napoleon sat down at the small kitchen table, motioning all the pigs to gather around him. It was clear Leader, Comrade Napoleon was about to make a speech, and his followers were eager to hear what their master had to say.
    “Comrades,” he began, “let it be known that today,” he paused for dramatic affect before starting again. “Today will be the start of a glorious day. Today is the day that we take control of Animal Farm!” His fist flew high into the air as his comrades applauded and cheered for him. Squealer slowly entered back in through the door, excited to hear the news that had the pigs so ecstatic.
    Napoleon motioned for the animals to be silent, slowly put his hoof over his mouth, and started off very slow. “I want to make this very clear to you, comrades. I want to make it very clear, that I have a plan.” The pigs leaned in closer now, dying to know what Napoleon was planning. Napoleon slowly stood up off his chair, his fat body swaying back and forth with his waddle, and picked up a small silver object that was lying on the floor. It was an object that Mr. Jones and his humans had used while dining. Napoleon twirled the tiny object in his hands, then, grabbing one of the points at the tip where food would be placed, he began to speak again.
    “We have rightfully won our place here, alone with no humans. We are the superior being compared to humans.” He began walking back to his seat at the table, the pigs watching him anxiously. “We beat them by force and we won. So,” he plunged the fork into the table, “why do they continue to come back and try and make peace with us?” He motioned for anyone at the table to answer, his eyes flashing back and forth from pig to pig, but no one chose to speak up. Napoleon’s swift eyes soon landed on Squealer who, being the talkative pig that he was, was surprisingly silent.
    “Not even you, Squealer?” Squealer swallowed nervously, his eyes darting back and forth to avoid Napoleon’s jet-black stare.
    He gulped, preparing himself to speak, and then said, “Is it because,” he fumbled out, “that they want to make peace with us?” Squealer’s heart was racing, expecting Napoleon to shout and scream at him, telling him that was the wrong answer. But instead, Napoleon just shook his head. He wrapped his hand around the tiny fork in the table, and quickly pulled it from the splintered wood.
    “No, Squealer, that is not it.” Napoleon was quiet again, his thoughts stirring inside his brain, trying to voice what he was thinking. “Can anyone else figure out why the humans would try so hard to be on our good side.” He delicately fingered the tiny metal utensil; the sound of clinking filled the silence as the metal went across his rough hooves.
    After some time in silence, where the pigs were beading sweat in nervousness, Napoleon silently put down the fork, and began to speak once again. “Comrades,” he breathed deeply, “I was once a young whelp. It may be strange to see me in such a way, but I beg of you, please imagine me as a young whelp now.” He was staring into the pig’s eyes now, boring into their skulls, almost to frighten them into looking away.
    “My father, being the large, strong pig that he was, was very strict. He enjoyed bossing around the other farm animals, but in a way that seemed almost…oblivious. My father liked to toy with other’s minds. He would try to make other animals do things for him, without ever asking for it. My father knew how to brain-wash other animals into doing his work for him. This, comrades, is how I have become to be born. If my father, being the crafty pig that he was, hadn’t told my mother what to do for most of her life, I would not be here now. I would merely be a dream inside of my parent’s minds.” There was a cough amongst the pigs, and when Napoleon’s eyes looked for the culprit, no one confessed. The pigs fell into perfect silence again, and Napoleon continued.
    Napoleon, then, seemed to almost smile. It was a happy smile, almost a smile in reminiscence as he remembered his childhood days. “I can still remember the way my father spoke to me. No matter how young I was, he spoke to me like a full grown pig, like I was an adult. I remember how he tried so hard to make me grow into a strong pig, and how he wished that I would someday become like him. I remember him loving me with his authority, and how he told me to never let anyone boss me around. He always told me that controlling a group of animals is in the mind of the strong, and that the weak were meant for work, and work alone.”
    Napoleon stopped, catching his breath as he flashed into another memory of his piglet days. “I also remember how my father used to hit my mother. He used to tell her how useless she was when she tried to stick up for herself to him.
    “One night in particular, I remember my tiny body couldn’t sleep, so I silently crept down from the hay loft to see if my parents were still awake. Low and behold they were, and they were quietly talking. Not necessarily talking,” Napoleon began to grow very quiet, “but yelling and whispering at the same time.” His face became gloomy and sad as he remembered this one in particular night so many years ago. “The first audible words I could make out in the argument consisted of how I was a sorry excuse for a piglet in my father’s opinion. My mother tried to tell him that I was young, and that such responsibilities of running a farm shouldn’t be on my shoulders yet. The argument grew more intense as he started blaming her for my weak behavior, and she fired back with the fact that he never showed me any love, and that in turn I would grow up with no love for any animal in my heart. He told her to shut up. Shut up he screamed at her.” Napoleon’s voice was rising in volume, and quavering with emotion. “Shut up, shut up, shut up he would tell her. He told her how she was only female, and that it made her weak and unimportant. Every time my mother would try and put in a word, he would retaliate with ‘Shut Up, Shut Up.’ My father’s face was red from yelling, and my mother’s face was drenched in tears.” Napoleon stood up on the table, screaming, trapped inside his existing memory. “And that’s when she snapped! She snapped! If she had only stayed quiet then she would still be here today! But no! No, no, NO!” Tears streamed down his face, his voice shook with sadness, but he continued on. “My mother had had enough and she said to him, ‘YOU’RE THE REASON HE IS WEAK AND SELFISH! YOU’RE THE REASON THAT OUR SON IS BECOMING A HEARTLESS BEAST! IT’S YOUR FAULT, VISSARION! YOU ARE OUR SON’S EXCUSE, NOT ME, YOU!” Napoleon cried in silence for a moment, seeming to catch his breath, and then suddenly struck up again. “My father, my father didn’t like this at all. His body, I can remember, stared to shake and shake and shake with anger. His face became redder then it had ever before, and I thought he was going to pop.” Napoleon started laughing; his laugher filled the silence that the pigs generated. The pigs became very frightened, then, because this laughter wasn’t joyous or happy, but maddening. Napoleon seemed to have become mad inside of his childhood memory. He laughed maniacally as he continued, “But he didn’t pop, my father’s face didn’t pop. Instead, he screamed at the top of his lungs and flung himself at my mother. His large tusks dug into her pink flesh, creating deep fleshy wounds that bled and bled and bled! She screamed and cried out for him to stop but he never did! He just kept cutting away at her lovely pink flesh until her screaming slowly stopped to a low groan, considering that he bit her throat out! Even long after the screaming had stopped, my father continued to show my mother what she had said was wrong! He bit and clawed at her until she turned red with her own blood, and he only stopped when she had been TURNED INTO NOTHING BUT PIG MEAT!” Napoleon’s maniacal, wrongly giddy laughter quieted into nothing but a blank stare at the wall behind Squealer. His voice was soft and very slow as he continued. “The last thing I can remember my father saying that night, comrades, was, ‘My son will be great, Catherine, not your son, my son. He will become great and strong. Long live Napoleon.’”
    Napoleon’s right fist was clenched in the air, his breathing, short and heavy. He blinked a few times in the silence that followed, and seemed to come back to reality. His rump slowly became glued to his chair once more, and he again went back on topic.
    “Why, comrades…why would the humans try to make peace with Animal Farm.”
    Once again, no one spoke up in the silence, but this time, Napoleon decided to answer. “Comrades, can’t you see? The humans feel threatened by us. They know that we will soon take over all other farms, and the humans will become the working class. That is why, comrades, they feel the need to become friends with us.” He again picked up the fork, almost like a staff belonging to a wizard, and pointed it towards Squealer. “Tomorrow, Squealer, you will tell the other animals that the only reason we sleep in this house now is because we need to use our brains more then they do. You will also tell them, that if we do not do certain human activities that were formally against the law, Jones will come back. Now, Sir Squealer, why do you think you should tell them this?”
    Squealer shook his head, expecting Napoleon to give him the answer. Napoleon jabbed the fork at Squealer as he said, “Because we are superior to them. We need beds to prove our superiority, and we need to remind them that in Jones’ time, things were worse then they are, and ever shall be. Now, why do you think we need to do this?”
    Again, Squealer shook his head in puzzlement, and again Napoleon answered for him. “Because, comrades, my plan is to slowly, but surly, take over Animal Farm. I plan to make more profit for us, and more labor for the other animals. How do you think I plan to do this?”
    The pig’s eyes all widened as they finally understood what Leader, Comrade Napoleon was saying. Murmuring began to chores quietly through the pigs, until one brave pig stood up with a question.
    “Honorable Leader, we know you plan to brain-wash the other animals, but, exactly how does this play in with the humans? Or,” he gulped, “or your father?”
    Napoleon’s eyes darkened and grew distant as he answered. “My father, as you heard from my story, was a strong man. If he couldn’t brain-wash someone, he would kill them, as he killed my swine mother. Although I wish to this day he hadn’t done so, I learned a very valuable lesson that night. I learned that if you can not take things by silently asking for them, you take them by force, just like I performed with Snowball. He was becoming too much to handle, so I had to forcibly drive him from Animal Farm. I also may have to kill any “problem animals” that might get in the way of our perfect-pig society. My father taught me to become a great leader, but I learned from experience, that I, we comrades, can not do this alone. We need outside influence to accomplish this goal. That is why the humans are involved now, because with their help, we will soon become just like them. Comrades, when I say ‘take over Animal Farm,’ what do you think I mean?”
    Everyone was silent, but their hearts drummed loudly in their ears.
    Napoleon laughed quietly, then, slowly getting off his chair, he stood on all fours at the edge of the table. “Comrades,” he quietly spoke, “I plan to make us human.” Then, to all the pig’s surprise, Napoleon stood on two legs. He stood on his two hind legs like a human would, and even though he staggered a bit, he held his head high for the other pigs to gaze on him in awe of what he had just done. Grabbing onto the edge of the table, Napoleon began to speak once more. “Comrades, although this is against the law, we will soon change all that. We will soon change everything. I have been planning this for some time, and I have been working and walking like a human. I do this so that someday, someday in the near future I hope, we will become exactly like Jones, so that we can live as they once lived here in this very household. My wish and dream,” he said as he grabbed the fork of the table again, “is that you all will be able to join me in standing up right like this. My wish and dream is that, soon we will change all the commandments to fit our life style, so that the brain-washed animals think we are in the right the whole time through.”
    He began walking around the table now, continuing his speech as he stumbled around, using the table for support. “I plan to change all the commandments, starting with the fourth one, as Squealer saw to that tonight. Then I plan to change the sixth commandment, so that we may eliminate any “problem animals” like I stated earlier. This will enable us to prevent any other animals following in their footsteps, and trying to overthrow us. After the sixth, I will bounce to the third commandment, because alcohol consumption should be allowed by us, considering we are the superior beings on this farm now, and it will help our transformation from animal to human to be much smoother and easier. Soon after this, we shall change the second and third commandments together, because we will reveal ourselves one morning, wearing Jones’ clothes with the sheep bleating loudly, ‘Four legs good, two legs better!’”
    Napoleon slowly moved back to his chair, then climbed it, reaching the table on his hind legs. He was at the epitome of his speech, and the pigs were wild with excitement at this craziness in Napoleon. Napoleon raised the fork high above his head as he began to shout, “AND FINALLY, COMRADES, WE WILL MAKE OUR TRANSFORMATION COMPLETE WHEN LOYAL SQUEALER WILL SILENTLY AT NIGHT, ERASE ALL THE OLD COMMANDMENTS, LEAVING ONLY ONE IN ITS WAKE! WHAT COMMANDMENT DO YOU THINK THIS SHALL BE, COMRADES!”
    The pigs stomped their hind hooves on the floor, banged their front hooves on the table, and shouted loudly for Leader Napoleon to give them an answer.
    The pigs were in frenzy, applauding now for Napoleon and his promises, applauding for their soon to be rewarded victory, and their soon transformation to the human race. The frenzy continued on late into the night as the unsuspecting animals silently slept in their tiny barn, unaware of the horror that was about to grace Animal Farm.
    The next day, passive, calm Clover asked Muriel for some help at reading, since the white goat was more talented then the mare.
    “Muriel,” she said, “read me the Fourth Commandment. Does it not say something about never sleeping in a bed?”
    With some difficulty, Muriel spelt it out.
    “It says, ‘No animals shall sleep in a bed with sheets,’” she announced finally.
    Curiously enough, Clover had not remembered that the Fourth Commandment mentioned sheets; but as it was there on the wall, it must have done so. And Squealer, who happened to be passing at this moment, attended by two or three dogs, was able to put the whole matter in its proper perspective, just as Napoleon had said to do so.
    “You have heard then, comrades,” he said, “that we pigs now sleep in the beds of the farmhouse? And why not? You did not suppose, surley, that there was ever a ruling against beds? A bed merely means a place to sleep in. A pile of straw in a stall is a bed, properly regarded. The rule was against sheets, which are a human invention. We have removed the sheets from the farmhouse beds, and sleep between blankets. And very comfortable beds they are too! But not more comfortable than we need, I can tell you, comrades, with all the brainwork we have to do nowadays. You would not rob us of our repose, would you, comrades? You would not have us too tired to carry out our duties? Surely none of you wishes to see Jones back?”
    The animals reassured him on this point immediately, and no more was said about the pigs sleeping in the farmhouse beds. And when, some days afterwards, it was announced that from now on the pigs would get up an hour later in the mornings then the other animals, no complaint was made about that either.