Pigs In Paradise. Roger Maxson

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “I know,” Julius said, modestly. “I get that a lot.”

      “You are not one of us,” Mel said for the benefit of the other animals gathered for evening prayer. “You are a house pet released from a den of sin, set loose upon the innocent to haunt and taunt them into despair, but they will not listen or follow.”

      “Aw, shucks, I had no idea I held such sway over you.”

      “You cannot make us, for we are cloaked in righteousness, protected from the evils of Satan, and from you, so help us, God.”

      “I can’t take all the credit. I mean, where would I be without you, you with your fear and loathing, and me, me with my sunny disposition?”

      “You will not corrupt or mislead us,” Mel said. “We are not sheep, after all. No offense.”

      “None taken,” bleated three sheep in unison.

      “Well, aren’t you on a tear? Don’t let me stop you.”

      Mel told the gathering that the pigs among them were seen as holy by their Muslim neighbors, and to remember, and he repeated, that Muhammad was their friend. Scrawled in chalk across planks of boards against the back wall, and running down the length of the wall, were Rules to Live By, the Thirteen Pillars of Wisdom. Mel led the recital of the Thirteen Pillars of Wisdom as he did every night as the other animals followed.

      “1: Man is made in God’s image; therefore, man is holy, Godly.

      “There is no disputing this fact,” Mel stated.

      The animals present all seemed to agree.

      Stanley said as he did every night, “Humans only have 10, but we have 13? I can’t remember that many. I can’t even count that high.”

      Mel, as he did every night, ignored the horse.

      Julius said, “Unfortunately, this mule did not spook and drop a tablet or three on his way down from the mountain. Not even when a burning bush spoke his name, what nerve!”

      Mel ignored the parrot, too, and resumed.

      “2: We shall humble ourselves before man.”

      Stanley snorted and stamped his feet. He raised his tail to dump a mound of manure. Some were aghast, but because it had occurred in his stall, and not the sanctuary, it was not a sin. The next day the Thai and Chinese laborers, being that it was the Sabbath, would clean out the stalls anyway, and put the manure on the compost pile behind the barn. Regardless of what day it was, mostly foreign laborers took care of the surrounding moshavim and farm animals, as they did with the animals on this moshav.

      “3: The barn is hallowed ground, a sanctuary, wherein no animal urinates or defecates; wherein all is sacred;

      4: Man is our creator and our salvation. Man is good.”

      “I think we know who wrote his material,” Julius said, removing a paintbrush from his beak while holding another brush in his left talon.

      “5: We shall not eat where we defecate;

      6: We shall not defecate where we pray;

      7: We shall not eat our feces or our young.”

      A hen clucked to her sister hens, “These rules are impossible.”

      “8: We serve man gladly for our survival.”

      “Yes, we do,” quacked three ducks.

      “He slops us,” said a pig, “so what?”

      “Sounds like a lot of shit to me,” said another pig, and the young pigs laughed.

      “9: For without man, we are lost.” Mel glared at the troublemaker. Mel knew him and his family, a bunch of pigs.

      Mel continued,

      “10: Thank God for man; we thank man for the animal, great and small, higher and lower of us;

      “11: No animal shall eat the flesh of another animal, great or small, higher or lower among us.”

      “No pig can live on slop alone,” said a sow.

      Mel looked at the sow. He did not wish to stop the recital. She was a sow.

      “Precious man eats animal flesh,” said another pig, a porker, and not long for this place, but soon for a one-way ticket for Cypress.

      Mel stopped the recital. “You are a prophet, my friend.” He reminded the congregation that grain was added to supplement the already vitamin-enriched nutritious slop the moshavnik Perelman fed the pigs and that it contained enough proteins to suffice the animals’ needs. “You are well fed, much better than any other pigs in the region.”

      “We are the only pigs in the region.”

      “Therefore, you are a privileged few, and Muhammad is your friend.”

      “What a wonderful life we lead,” said the sow.

      “Right,” said the porker, “just like paradise.”

      “What about us?” Trooper and Spotter whined.

      “Are you not taken care of and fed handsomely?”

      “Yes, Father,” they said and bowed.

      “To everything, there is a season. To every dog a bone. So, turn, turn, and do tricks for your bone.”

      The dogs turned, turned, and did tricks for a bone.

      “Do not question me or my motivations.” Mel did not give the dogs a bone. Instead, Mel resumed the recital with,

      “12: We shall not allow ourselves to be covered in mud.

      The yellow-feathered chicken clucked and hid behind the other hens among the sheep.

      “13: We shall honor our saints and martyrs.”

      Mel ended the recital; however, he continued with his sermon.

      “When we are outside, it is put upon us,” he sermonized, “to cover our waste, so as not to carry excrement into our house of worship. It is left to us to nourish the earth that grows the grain, and the grass that in turn nourishes us.”

      The animals agreed, yes, yes, of course, that made sense.

      “We shall mark our small, short lives on this earth, and respect, and honor those who lead us through the darkness of this world, and the animal kingdom at large, beyond our farm, so that we shall enter the kingdom of God to be shepherded by Him.”

      “Yes, yes,” the animals sang out gleefully.

      Mel continued his sermon, “And those who wallow in mud shall die in it.”

      The chicken raised her head, “Bog.” She hid in the warm wool of the sheep. The young pigs didn’t СКАЧАТЬ