1: I picked it up, and looked at it, at the instruction of said best friend's father (who had this fetish for bizarre knick-knacks that was, frankly, amazing). It looked like a pig.
2: Then I noticed it had a sound, so I held it up to my ear, and a little tinny voice would repeat over and over 'Pork is food. Pork is food. Pork is food.' into my ear, like some sort of mantra-
3: when I lowered it, it looked different. The way I had been holding it when I picked it up was one way to see it- and it looked like a pig- but if I held it the other way ‘round, it looked like a chef. Or more precisely, one of James Ensor's Dangerous Cooks.
I proceeded to walk all around the neighborhood I lived in as a child and show this to everybody, all of whom were blown out of the water by the pig-that-became-a-dangerous-cook.