PIGS DON’T LIE
It was a lazy day. On the farm the sun shone bright pools of gleaming gold. It lit up the bare branches of the tallest trees. Winter was in the air. The smell of wood smoke lingered between the weather bleached farm buildings. There were excited cries of children. There were noisy sounds of farm equipment. Yes, the holiday season was in full swing.
Francis, the boss pig, strained his six hundred and fifty pound massive bulk into a standing position and surveyed his domain. Yea, he thought, this Thanksgiving is going to be a good one. Holidays can be a real bummer for animals. He knew from years of experience that only the turkeys had to sweat it this time of year. The pigs were safe till Easter, God willing.
Jamison, one of seven yearling turkeys on the farm, poked his knobby head briefly out of the coop and surveyed the dusty barnyard. If turkeys could sweat his forehead would have been beaded with large droplets. Instead, rapidly blinking eyes and a nervous twitch in his scrawny neck were the only signs that a death sentence was to be proclaimed on one of the flock.
Francis, ambling toward the corn previously scattered on the barren ground, spied Jamison’s erratic behavior and spoke with an almost calming tone, “Settle down boy. The festive season is here and you should be enjoying the crispness in the air of this beautiful day instead of vibrating like fresh milk in the butter churner.”
“How do you think I can stay calm in the mist of this crisis?” Jamison stuttered as he joined Francis in a slow walk toward the corn. “One of my brothers or myself is going to be grabbed by the feet, taken behind the barn, have his head lopped off by a very sharp ax, de-feathered and then placed in an oven for several hours just to satisfy the cannibalistic cravings of a bunch of human monsters and you want me to stay calm, right?”
“Listen,” soothed Francis. “I happen to know by the highest authority in this agricultural establishment, namely farmer Johnson, that you, my friend, are safe from the heating element in Mrs. Johnson’s self-cleaning Kenmore oven and furthermore, since you and your brothers are only a year old and the Johnsons are having all the relatives over this year, that they are going to obtain a very large gobbler from the Brown farm. The turkey they are getting would make any three of you guys put together, so relax little buddy, you and your brothers will not be cooked.”
“Well Jamison timidly replied. “That sounds great but, how do I know you are telling the truth?”
“There is one thing you should know about pigs,” Francis loudly proclaimed. “We may be fat, we may like to wallow in the sticky mud to cool off on a hot day and we may root around in the garbage slop they throw us but, pigs don’t lie. We are the most trustworthy, benevolent, docile creatures in the animal kingdom. Pigs simply don’t lie.”
“That certainly is a relief Francis. We were worried sick about which one of us was going to be baked at 350 degrees. You have certainly eased my mind. I can’t wait to go tell my brothers. They will be overjoyed when they hear the news.”
“Ok Jamison. Run along and by the way, there’s a little party tomorrow night. All the pigs put one on each year and invite all the other farm animals to celebrate our own Thanksgiving.” It will be in the main barn at eight o’clock. Dress is casual of course since we don’t wear clothes anyways.”
“Thanks again Francis, I will go tell my brothers about the party and I’m sure they will be in a jovial mood since they’re not going to be cooked. I’ll see you later.” Jamison strutted back to the coop as only a turkey can do and disappeared into the shadows of the doorway.
Thanksgiving Day arrived and sure to Francis’s word, a very large turkey was brought over from the Brown farm and put in the oven to feed the over-extended Johnson family. The turkeys were all sad that one of their kind had become the feast of the day but, they were very happy it wasn’t one of their direct relatives. They busied themselves with talk of the party in the barn at eight p.m. and they were pretty excited that they had been invited.
Eight o’clock rolled around and the seven turkeys left in single file motion out of the coop and arrived in a jovial mood at the main barn. All the farm animals were milling around inside the barn and Jamison spotted Francis talking to several pigs and a very old mule in the center area of the barn.
“Hi Francis, all my brothers are here with me and we are looking forward to this party.” Jamison yelled through the crowd of animals as he waved his wing side to side. “I’m so glad you invited us.”
“I’m so glad you and your brothers could make it Jamison. You guys are the guests of honor, “Francis yelled back over the noisy chatter from the many animals. “Please bring all your brothers into the center area so we can pay attention to all of you.”
Jamison led his brothers into the center of the barn and all the animals began closing in the space surrounding the yearling turkeys.
“How you guys doing?” shouted the barnyard dog. “Glad all of you could make it.”
“What’s new in turkey land?” bellowed the brown and white goat, “We sure are happy to see you.”
“You guys look terrific,” meowed the cat. “We are really pleased you came.”
“Okay everybody, let’s eat!” suggested Francis as the group of animals made an even closer circle around the turkeys. “I’m really starved.”
The turkeys, eyes bulging, began to back into each other as the farm animals pressed closer and closer. “What’s going on Francis? All the animals look like they are ready to eat us. You promised we would be safe. You lied to us.”
“No Jamison, pigs don’t lie. I said you would not be cooked for Thanksgiving. I didn’t say anything about not being eaten.” The sloppy sounds of animals eating could be heard for many hours.