The Return of the Animal Farm Chapter 2 Part 5

 The Return of the Animal Farm

Inspired by a family who lives in Muskogee, Oklahoma,

Chapter 2 Part 5

Farms were meant for both farmers and swine. They couldn't live in harmony, quarreling over what is mine or yours. We live in uncertain times, but those who are both farmers and swine live in simpler ways. Why count our days when they are already numbered? For swine they believe they will live forever. This is something that cannot be never. Swine are days that are numbered, as many as the pounds they weigh. They grow each day, but 'tis ultimately limited. What hath we done to receive such punishment? Nay, we are not swine. For Sparky stirred, and slowly sat up, and sought to say, "We've gone on too long. I want slop and a show. I'm thirsty and hungry." Napoleon laughed inside, and thought quietly, "My boar is so stupid." His young fool of a prince was just that, a spitting image of him. For Napoleon weren't to be a God, but his ways were that of a large hog built like a giant. 

They slept confided stalled in a stolen truck. It was an armored tank with firepower most suiting for the band of rebellious pigs. They were acting like they were armed to the snout to fight in the Bay Of Pigs, a battle of tout. It was most humorous and depressing: they were such as the men of Khan. What heartless foul that flew by the motionless fashioned swine base were but few crows. Bats and rats hid nearby, bewildered by the confused hog. "What beast would think a wolf or a bat? Surly not a swine!" The bat mother was astounded. The beliefs that hogs were gods was confounded. The rats even more, perhaps dumbfounded. Sparky saw his onlookers, commanding, sounding sure, "I am your God, ye be my children!" The rats and bats were full of fear. Not of danger, except for being food. He looked them right in the eye, "You look good, dude!" Be we lust objects or mere gluttony? The bats flew away, the rodents scurried far. Is it so that Sparky hangs out at a pub, maybe the bar? How low was this bar if bats and rats be food? It's strange that pestilent mass appeared to him as a Halloween treat. What sounds like a joke, alas, to me, a timeless horror story. What kind of mockery is this trick? Would he really give the flesh of outcast beasts a lick? Run far now, farmer's kin, or you could die, in the festering gut of the large boar prince Sparky. 

What is modern myth is yesterday's warning. Our desires that are corrupt are a forlorn wish. As meddling Marty thought of murder, she stewed on her distaste of young farmer's daughters. She thought, a smirk upon her snout, "Little girls, I shall not eat. I will destroy them, their bodies to beat." The moon hung like blood, the favorite drink of upright swine. What could have been lepers was now among us, be them walking these days? Napoleon may have had more, alive in the Oklahoma plains. If you see an upright pig, be it boar or sow, do not fight it, run far, hide, take a long rest. For it is the shallow souls of swine that seek to test you. Do you not know? Swine will destroy themselves in time, and become a wonderful sunrise feast. Do not challenge the beast that feeds upon the carrion of their farmers. They are like flightless vultures, their bodies to big and heavy to fly. I am happy I can soar, be that I within them swine, I would definitively die. They'll trick their sows and boars, deceive to make unwilling minions. Shackled by their father's lies, they will sin under the care of them. Why pretend when I saw where the long gone hogs had been? Death is suiting to your cause if you are a bedfellow to hogs. Never kill a pig, but run and distrust them. You pray for a hero, one who enjoys destruction if you run into one. He be fiction in your mind, and your savior in the unlikely moment. Gilded on the screen, we want him to walk our halls, so no armed pig can end our women's lives, and maybe our own. Defiled as he is, I wish he bunked in my home. For then no pig could eat my food, killing my eaglets, and eventually me. Why can't reality be like the old medicine man's stories? Maybe it will be, if we can find them. I'm sure they hide in the shadows, avoiding inequity. They probably exist for their spirit, potentially hating what farmers and swine have become. Did they mate and make a chimera? They did back then, for it could be that Napoleon gave into a third. He may rather enjoy eating both slop and curd, blending each culture. His princes may even eat yogurt, gazing at your sons and daughters. Was old Bram writing about bloodsuckers, or ones haunting the places serving delicious desserts?