The Return of the Animal Farm
Inspired by a family that lives in Muskogee, Oklahoma,
Chapter 3 Part 2
The swine were starting to gather to light the whole greater Oklahoma area aflame with a spectacular display on a significant day. For the swine and their kind, the one with the girth of the most mass leads the masses. This is why Joey pig must enter the swine control squad illegally. For it was the Sparky who led the charge, who now fries upon a skillet controlled by the flames of an infernal jail. For Joey pig's lack of swine smarts and athleticism that made him hated. For dear Napoleon, he considered Nanci piggy and Ilia the sow to be dumber than both his ma pig and swine partner. "Why, my dear mate pig deserves the throne above these miserable pigs! I should them to their deaths. These things could not be more lesser." Fools lead swine led nation. Despite our emperor of swine proportions, we knew it is only that he held himself in the highest regard.
Do not say that Joey respects even himself. He's a crude foul boar of a kid who tramples those who criticize him. This swine pauper couldn't be fit to flip a bovine treat, for this moronic boar should kiss your feet. For his place in the swinish squad is about as fictitious as the fact that there is a brain inside of his head. For all intents and purposes, he's the barely breathing living dead. He bashes those who would give him rebuke, for idiots like him an upright swine hate discipline. Napoleon Jr. contemplated, "Why tell him nothing but what he wants to hear? Give this childish hog sweet honeyed words or he'll return a jeer." What the Swine ruler of choice lacked in book smarts be gained threefold in manipulation. He knew what nails to hit to make a tool do as it should. There is nothing good about Nanci piggie, Illia sow, and Joey pig, they're easily manipulated corpse puppets controlled by the underworld lords. They'll do as they're told, so that swine and farmer life as we know it ends, and only the immortal dead are left. None will debate their existence as they simply can't, without a simple expression sounding like a brief chant. These lives we traded for our swine minds cost the farmer what is precious, mortal time. How we decide to conduct our manners is best left to careful planning, not decided by villainous filthy clandestine kings like Napoleon Jr.
The problem with interference is that it shakes the ocean in our lives they become terribly distressed. Turbulence created by meddlers is not righteous or sincere. Napoleon and his ham gang, you see, only wish to create fear. Oklahoma and its likes was once our country sweetheart. A bride and daughter, it was where farmers wished to die. Louise, the ignorant sow queen, thought something particularly mean, "Wouldn't it be my fabled honor for farmers to bow to pigs? They should be our hogs!" Farmers watch, care for, and slaughter their livestock. Those darn swine mixed with farmer and they do the farmer image such disgrace. From the beginning, shall they not understand farmers tell them where to come and go? We've flipped our heartland topside up, and lifted the hogs into our happy home. Beat them, fry their pink milky skin, saute them for our farmer children's sunrise meal. Bacon should be on a cooker, not trying to pose as an infernal ruler.
Chris rested his listless heart on the commandeered truck, lazily slumbering with his kin around him. The swine squad wanted to fix a complication on the outsides of Tulsa. There laid a shearer of sheep, a meager farmer of poverty. The farmers were divided by their class. The swine king, who was the only swine with any competent thoughts present. Napoleon Jr. placed the mere shepherd where he decided him to be, gently as he starting down the same road, thinking, "A shepherd has no right to keep those sheep. They can fight for their own lives, maybe die in between, now that would be rich! Ha ha!" Abhor the upright imposter that seeks to destroy our mild mannered humble existence. Those who liter and excrete can do so, but our humility shall further ensue. Sorrow weeps down my eagle cheek when this eventual world full of swine and farmer clashing ends with our lives quickly dashing; a deliberate, specific, swine manipulation leading to a titanic swine and farmer stir fry. Will the giants from the stars be particular, or will it be deemed worth the plunge? We've fallen, too far, the farmer and swine paradoxical paradise lost, now, never seen, forevermore.
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