One day, quite a few years ago, a rather homely old farmer leaned wearily on the fence by his barn. I suppose he was waiting for the cows to come home.  When he gazed above the fields he could not believe his eyes.  Over him in a clear blue sky was a flying pig. 

The animal circled down and landed gracefully (for a pig) near to where the farmer was gawking at him. 

"Good day!" said the pig in what sounded slightly like a Yorkshire accent.  "From your look you don't see many flying pigs here about.  I must be well away from the borders of the Land of  If.  Could you be telling me what country I am in?"

"This here be Somerset, England". (He added, after a brief pause). He was not sure this animal knew all his counties and shires.

"Oh grand!" squeaked the pig, "I had hoped to reach France by sunset. Do you suppose you could give me a bit of hospitality--some food and a place to sleep for the night?"

"Certainly," said the farmer from the heart of his Celtic traditions. "However, I was just about to go for the cows out in that pasture.  Looks like they ain't about to come in on their own. Walk with me if you will, and we can continue our conversation." 

Thus the two of them walked, and the farmer began his inquiry. "Might I ask if you come from a place where there are other flying pigs? 

"Oh yes indeed sir." said the pig with what appeared to be a piggy smile. "I shall tell you about the land of If. That may answer more questions than you think you have. The official name of  IF  is actually 'The Land of Counterfactual Cliches'.  It is populated by beings like myself.  For example, when someone in this world says 'when pigs have wings', another of my kind pops into being.  In If we have many horses because of the old cliche about 'If wishes were horses'. "

The farmer asked, "are there people in this conner, ah, count'n, eh, this 'If' land?"

"Yes.  That there are." said the pig.  "Many of the folk are twins;  pairs that are exactly alike.  Any time someone in this world says, 'If I were you... ' pop, there is another set of new ones trying to figure out how they got there.  Then there are all the lovers. Whenever one of your people says to his or her paramour, 'If you really loved me...' We have another Romeo and or Juliet racing about in the heat of lust. They usually settle down after they find another who is similarly inclined.  In a cliche; they live happily ever after; mostly.  There are rich people and not so rich people in If.  Some of them said 'If I were rich...' And some were those folks who say,  'If I had a penny for every time...' 'Ifs', the residents of the Land of Counterfactual Cliches, often become quite argumentative. Good examples are those who you might have heard say, 'If you're so smart why aren't you rich?'  They are contentious when they pop in. Often they will continue the same disagreement they were having in your land." 

The farmer asked, "Does everyone who uses 'If' go to the land of If?"

"Oh no," The pig frowned. "In the first place they are not the ones who become Ifs.  The people who are here stay here.  Ifs just pop up in If as if they were material copies of the ideal beings in some Platonic Ideal World. 

The farmer said, "Huh?" 

"Sorry about getting so philosophical." said the pig.  "But let me also point out that Ifs don't pop up until their if becomes a cliche.  The phrase has to be really overused." 

The pig noticed that the farmer was stretching his neck about looking for the scattered cows. 

"Would you like me to fly above and spot your cows?  I might be able to herd them a bit for you too." 

"Now that would be right neighborly of you lad." Said the farmer with some relief reflected in his face. He watched with amazement as the pig spread his wings, beat the air and rose up into the sky.  Soon the grunting, oinking creature was swooping down on the unsuspecting bovines.  They moved with plodding irritation toward the farmer and his barn. Once the cows were put away for the night the farmer invited the pig into his house for dinner.  One might wonder if this was carrying hospitality too far, but the pig was a fastidious guest and his conversation was far more intelligent than most of the farmer's acquaintances. 

The pig explained how If was getting crowded, especially with twins. This was his motive for escaping through the border into England and possibly France.  He said that the twins often complained about the pigs relieving themselves overhead.  The fastidious creature saw this as an affront to his dignity. When asked how he got out in spite of guards; he chuckled and told this story: 

"I just walked up to the guard and asked him why he couldn't let me out.  At last he said, 'If I let you then I would have to let...'   While he was trying to stop a dozen twins on horses, I flew over the border and was gone." 

On the following day while the farmer was milking his cows and the pig was still sleeping on the spare cot; the neighbors came swiftly and captured the two of them. 

The farmer was completely surprised and the pig could not fly away because it was in the house. 

In no time there was a witchcraft trial.  Witnesses testified to seeing the flying demon attack a herd of cows then go into the farmer's house with him. Judgment was passed. The farmer forfeited his land. 

On the promise that he would repent his cavorting with the creatures of the devil he was allowed to leave England and go to the New World as a colonist. 

The pig was not so fortunate. He was burned at the stake.  I do understand the wings were quite tasty. 

When the old farmer arrived in America it seemed at first that he would starve.  He was slow and old. He never had been a pleasant or attractive person.  Then he discovered his true vocation.  He became a storyteller.