The Return of the Animal Farm Chapter 2 Part 6

 The Return of the Animal Farm

Inspired by a family that lives in Muskogee, Oklahoma,

Chapter 2 Part 6

There is no real madness to be found in the swine. As they picked up their pace finally again to Farmer John's Ranch, genius had failed to knock on Napoleon's skull. His belly was full, his lids overly rested, yet they were not ready for the challenge the hurricane Farmer John presents. The test upon the road ahead was far beyond seducing the animals present foolishly. All his sheep may die before Farmer John is toppled, a disaster the swine could not prevent. We've seen elephants and lions go to war, but what of a few sows and boars? Life may end prematurely for the overzealous farmer, but what of the swine? Be it all six will fall? Neigh, even more? Death will not cease to close its door.

Marty dawned an apocalyptic sneer. Regicide may be on this confused sows mind. She calls herself Marty, yet disturbance is her sole consolation for her inequity. The turbulence of Sparky's mind increased, as did his hindquarters from a rather large flatulence. Angelique was not content for her position, as be her sow personality, wishing to mate with her cousin Napoleon, be the queen, and succeed her king with a dagger. Louise was not certain, as she always wanted to be the high boar of a her fabled church. Within this sow, the mate of Napoleon Jr, extremities blew south in the wind, flapping upon the surface of him. Chris the first boar of his imagined ship fully felt feeble with delirium sought in over forlorn mourning of his imagined sea, which could only lie in actuality within sties and mud. All six of these abhorrent pink husks measured upon weight not of merit, intellect, or spirit, but an empty soul housed inside a bloated house. The scales were tipped to break and not go up, as Sparky yet imagined a candied water in a gigantic cup. Upon saucers of excrement hold his excitement, as edifying excessively and the loud feeling after filled him full of laughter. Stenches of decay rumbled like a swine choir from their rumps, as each felt like they belonged in a sanitary, right next to the trash we dispose. The farmers will now feel this emotion, as their favorite food has caused too much commotion.

They edged to the gates of hades, alerted sheep bleeping like a loud siren. Louise with unimaginable energy leaped to them, and each ram toppled her down. She screamed, "What is the meaning of this? My God Napoleon offers you bliss!" Sparky let out a resounding cry, oinks filled with rage. He slaughtered all the sheep to save his Ma sow, but lost his hind legs shortly after. Sparky was too lost in the head to use his farmer guns to make him dead. Outside a mechanical pair of legs he was now useless, Angelique seized the opportunity for his mercy. Filling her cousin boar full of lead, Sparky was nothing short of dead. Napoleon felt no sorrow, as his anger increased over the deaths of what could be an allegiance of sheep. Sparky's last words were, as he gasped, "Who is that pony? Will she be the one to save me?" His Ma sow was fine, but Sparky had forever been out of time. With the devil he will finally dine. She galloped forward, a red mane and buckteeth, introducing herself obliviously, "Like do you want to defeat the evil Farmer John? My name is Spunky, known for relentless energy!" Napoleon thumbed his snot-filled snout, "Is my boy back as his wish? A reincarnated feminine steed? Stronger now, hopefully as whimsical. If she will serve me, she is brainless!" Deceit did not show on Spunky's countenance, but she only wishes for her liberation. Sizing up the swine trump, she planned for Angelique's demise. Never trust a pixie as a pony. Maybe in future generations they will air a farmer's children show that shows this lesson. Pray deep that bands of swine that hate thine farmers do not spy on such childish frights. This Spunky was really Moondust, the rage filled god of vengeance of old, one sent from a star above to eliminate a future swine hold. They think nothing now, yet when do swine ponder none other than their fiery desire? Trust to the deceiver be aplenty to the promiser, as each upright swine king we now see does in turn the same. For each and every upright swine believes all is a game. Kings surrender to death, as do swine, as after short time, it refuses to ever rewind.