Christian Values Gone Hog Wild
They raised him on a farm with others of his kind, all of them doomed, but he was special. With the food and the care he grew over twice the size of a normal male. His size only made him slow and clumsy, like a morbidly obese person who can barely carry his own weight. They fed him more and more and gave him growth hormone and steroids till he was a giant of his kind, an ill and clumsy giant.
Then one day they ran him out of the barn, away from food, they struck him with sticks and electric prods till he screamed in pain and tried to get away. They ran him toward the trees, with dogs chasing him. Now it was time for him to pay for the food and care he had received and he would pay in pain. There was someone willing to pay to hurt him, to make him suffer, because this was a commercial game farm and pain and death was their stock in trade.
Sometimes the prey was just quail, birds raised in a cage, given food, kept from learning about survival, until one day they were released in a field. The first time they took to wing, they would be shot out of the air. It’s called a canned hunt. In the fun of causing their suffering and death, once the evil old man who ruled the country had the pleasure, not just of shooting them, but of shooting another evil old man. Sort of a human hunt. Little consolation to the quail.
But this animal wasn’t a quail. He was a pig. The drugs and the food and the captivity had made him a leviathan, a helpless one. So he ran to the forest, fleeing from pain, followed by two farm workers with high powered rifles (called guides), a paying customer and his 11-year-old son. They tracked him through the trees but how hard is it to track a tame animal that weighs over a thousand pounds, a hormone swollen freak who can barely walk.
The boy was given a pistol and told to shoot the animal. He did and the poor creature suffered and ran and was followed and shot again. They didn’t use a rifle, just a pussy handgun, so it would take longer for the animal to die and the customer would get his money’s worth. Finally, with the fifth shot, and the animal died. The boy’s picture and the picture of his tame victim was put on the news, as though killing a frightened and ill animal was a feat worth taking notice of when all that was noteworthy was how big the hormones had made the poor animal grow. The head was taken for a trophy and the rest of the flesh to be made into hormone sausage. The father celebrated the suffering and death as proof of his family’s Christian values.
Here’s hoping the game farm owner, the man and his son all get what they deserve.
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© Alllie 2007
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