the slaughter
By benafim
The Slaughter It was Monday morning when José and his brother came for her. Slowly she got up and looked at them with friendly, pale blue myopic eyes. But when they tied her legs up, till she couldn’t move, she began screaming, human like, so high pitched that a hall mirror in Antonio’s house cracked had his wife worried. Perhaps the pig has a human soul? …And the ink in my fountain pen froze. When the scream, to my relief stopped, I knew her throat was slit and that she convulsed as life seeped out of her eyes. A happy sow had given birth to many endearing piglets in her time, a sty all by herself thinking that she was happily retired. Blessed are the innocent and with gusto we will eat their flesh. Written February 18th, 2002 © on Feb 18 2002 07:32 AM PST 0 • 9
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"The Slaughter ..."