Note: Through repeated watchings of early Raccoons and reading fansites, the wiki, and other assorted articles, I am unable to determine which pig is which by number, let alone by fan name. As of right now, Lloyd is the one NOT voiced by Bert Raccoon and Floyd is the one most prone to shouting, so imagine their personalities accordingly. Please let me know if there is a different fanon standard of naming I should conform to, and I will change accordingly. Thank you.

Prologue Part I
(Set during "The One that Got Away!")

Of course, the main purpose of the press conference was to show off his (okay, his and Knox's) line of environmentally friendly products. That was where the money was these days. In fact, it had become downright fashionable to be environmentally conscious. There was some money to be made in taking care of the planet, sure, but there was even more money to be made in being trendy. When it came to Cyril Sneer, it was hard to tell if his motives were really altruistic or if he was the same greedy aardvark tycoon he'd always been.

He and Knox made a great speech, but as Ralph Racoon said, "Good news is no news," and much of the press dwindled before their great announcement was even finished. Cyril was disheartened, but it wasn't a complete bust: one of the guests who stayed for the entire announcement was the one Cyril was really hoping would attend: Ingrid Bellamour.

Cyril hadn't seen Ingred since the unpleasantness with the Rotco corporation and, though they had parted on friendly terms, it was clear that she thought him a long way off before he was the kind of man she would be involved with. Can't hardly blame her- she was famous for being a movie star turned environmental activist. If she was caught hobnobbing with a known supporter of environmental disasters, it would ruin her reputation and nobody would donate to her Save the World fund anymore.

Still, his hopes were high as he approached her at the refreshment table. He cleared his throat. "A-hem... hello, Ingrid."

Ingrid turned and when she saw him, she smiled. "Hello, Cyril."

"I was hoping you'd make it."

"Oh, I wouldn't have missed this for the world. I'm proud of you, Cyril."

Cyril was internally celebrating, though he made sure his outward appearance betrayed none of his excitement. He was going to play this cool. "Yeah, well, I figured it was about time Sneer Industries got out of the dark ages and started looking after the planet. After all, taking care of the Earth is everyone's responsibility."

Yes, he knew how hokey he sounded, and if it were anyone else in the world, he wouldn't have said it. He was just really happy to see Ingrid again and he really didn't want to blow it.

"Yes, it is," she said. "I got your recent donation to the fund," she added. "Thank you."

"Well... you know... I try to give back... I've been donating to a few charities here and there, spreading the wealth around." In actuality he had donated to exactly one other charity, something about saving whales or some such initiative, specifically so he wouldn't have to completely lie to Ingrid when he tried this line.

"It's good to see a millionaire using his money to help others," said Ingrid.

"How are you enjoying the party?" asked Cyril. "Lady Baden-Baden picked out the hors d'oeuvres. Not quite my taste, but the doctor says it's good for my heart, so..."

"I love it. It's such a quaint setup. Not too extravagant, doesn't take attention away from the good being done here. I'm so tired of parties that are just expensive pats on the back that wealthy people give each other where the environment is hardly mentioned at all."

Cyril chuckled. "Yeah... didn't want to waste money on a party I could have been using on the business."

"I only wish my boyfriend could have come tonight," said Ingrid with a sigh. "He wanted so dearly to see it for himself, but he's shooting a public service announcement about recycling."

Cyril's mouth dropped open so quickly he lost his cigar. "Your... boyfriend?"

"Oh, yes, it's all over those gossip rags," said Ingrid disdainfully. "Ever since Harold Wilmfront and I started seeing each other it's all those papers talk about... never a word about our foundation unless it's a throwaway line at the end to pad it out, that can be cut if the column runs long."

"Yes, I can... see how that would be... frustrating." Cyril suddenly felt like he was floundering in the ocean, trying to tread water and keep his nose above while he flailed about in a futile attempt to get the lifeguard's attention.

"Anyway, it was good to see you again, Cyril," said Ingrid. "I'm going to have a word with those reporters from the Standard and see if I can't give them a few words for their write-up of the evening." She gave him a friendly wave as she walked off, leaving Cyril standing with his mouth still open, his cigar forgotten.

Prologue Part II
(Between the final two scenes of "The One That Got Away!")

"We are in big trouble," said Lloyd sadly.

It was the understatement of the century. After dragging the barrels of poison back to Milton Midas's office and throwing the money at his feet, the pigs were feeling pretty proud of themselves. It was especially satisfying to watch Midas being dragged away in handcuffs.

It was less satisfying when they felt the handcuffs being slapped around their own wrists. At first they protested and struggled, but the officers would not relent. The charges were read, and since none of the pigs had much of a background in legal work, it was explained to them that even though they didn't know what was in the barrels, it was criminally negligent and reckless to dump them randomly somewhere in the forest.

"I thought we were doing the right thing," said Boyd, with a hurt and dejected tone of voice. He felt absolutely betrayed.

"We were," said Floyd. "We helped prove it was Midas responsible for poisoning the fishing hole!"

"The boss says he's going to be put away for a long time," said Lloyd.

"So what does that mean for us, the ones who actually did the dumping?" asked Floyd.

"Probably that we'll stay in jail for even longer," said Boyd.

The three of them sighed heavily.

"What are we gonna tell Mom?" asked Boyd.

"We can never tell Mom!" Floyd squealed so loudly that the guard reached over and banged on their cell door with his nightstick. "Sorry," Floyd said in a more toned down voice.

"You're right, though," said Lloyd. "Mom can never know."

"I don't know, guys," said Boyd. "She always said she wants to hear about our lives. Remember when she came to visit us?"

When Mrs. Pig had visited her boys under the false impression that they were the tycoons and Cyril Sneer was the employee, it had been very shaming to tell her the truth. Of course, she was their mother and she loved them no matter what, but after the truth came out she had told them sadly, "Boys, you don't have to lie to me to make me proud of you. You don't have to be big business tycoons to make me proud of your accomplishments. When you lie to me, that lie becomes a big part of your life that I can't share with you. I'm your mother, and I want to be there for you during good times and bad ones. If you lie to me, then you're robbing me of what I want most of all... to share in the lives of the most special people in the world to me." After that they had all hugged, and the pigs had promised to write to her every week- and every word of their letters had been true.

Lloyd shook his head in defeat. "She'll find out soon enough. This will be in every newspaper in the country tomorrow morning- if it hasn't already been in today's."

"Besides," added Floyd, "it's not like we have a lot else to do here than write letters..."

Just then a different guard came to the cell door. "Your bail's been paid," he said. "Let's get you ready to go."

"Our bail's been paid?!" the pigs responded in shock and unison.

"But it was over a hundred thousand dollars!" Floyd cried. "Who in the world could have..."

"Ohhhhh..." all the pigs realized at the same moment.

"That's right, and you're being released into his custody. You're not to leave the Evergreen Forest until your court date, understand?"

"Oh, yes sir, yes sir," said the pigs. "We understand, sir!"

"I can't believe he paid our bail," said Lloyd to the others as they were lead out. "After what we did to the fishing hole, I didn't think he'd ever want to see us again."

Indeed, the last words Cyril had said to them were in his office after finding out that they were the ones responsible for dumping the poison. He hadn't exactly shouted at them, not like he usually did. But his voice was angry and hurt as he just flung wads of bills at them from his safe and demanded, "You want money? Here. Here's lots of money. Take it all! Take some more! Just give me back the fishing hole! Can you do that? Can you give me a price on that? Can you?!"

The pigs were escorted into a holding area where Cyril Sneer was waiting, sitting down on a bench with his knees apart, elbows resting on his thighs, eyes narrow, a stream of smoke floating from his cigar.

"Um... hello, Boss," said Lloyd.

"Hello, pigs," said Cyril with utter disdain.

"Um... so... how have you been?" Boyd asked with a grin.

"Let's get one thing straight right away. I am very, very upset with you. This is worse than when you let that puzzle piece get into circulation and I lost the chip deal. This is worse than when you ruined the computer system and I was held hostage by my own house. This is worse than when you shredded my money. This is worse than every single thing you have ever done, put together." He let out a sigh, a cloud of smoke escaping his mouth. "But you still work for me. And believe me, you will be put to work. And as long as you stay in the mansion and do everything I say, and show up for your court date, I will get the bail money I put up back, so I won't be out of pocket. I may be in charge of you, but if I'm not giving you an order I don't want to look at you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," said all the pigs, but in a very subdued way not at all like their usual energetic lackeying.

"First things first," said Cyril. "I've gotten three bacon-sized hazmat suits. You are going down to the lake and you are doing some serious damage control. We might not ever be able to use the fishing hole again, but if we act quickly it won't spread, and maybe our great- great- grandchildren will be able to come within ten feet of it without losing all their fur."

The next day, the pigs were down in the lake cleaning up the worst of it while the raccoons nailed warning signs around the perimeter so everyone would know the area was contaminated.