He’s dead. I watched Him die.

As faith waned over the years, we all knew it was only a matter of time. So, now, God is gone. The age-old adage “The world keeps turning” still remains true - if only for a moment.

I needed to confirm my fears.

On Earth I held my ear to the ground and screamed, drowning out Nina Simone bellowing “Mississippi Goddam” through a taxi’s speakers.

The Devil was laughing, and I could feel the earthquake beginning to stir.

The Pig hammered away at his keyboard attempting to meet his deadline. He wasn't actually a pig. If his intelligence wasn't an indicator then his mane and fur would probably suffice for evidence.

Nay, they called him the Pig, or Piggy, because he ate like one. He always thought that was a little racist, but none of the pigs in their accounting cubicles seemed to mind... or maybe they were too busy crunching numbers and eating to notice.

Piggy ate so much because it helped to relieve the stress of the bills. He went to college to receive an education. He had an cousin that didn't go to college and then had to get a job in the city pulling other animals around, pooping in a bag and sleeping in hay.

That wasn't the future he wanted. But the bills he accrued from college, the water he used for pooping in a toilet and the rent for the room he put his bed in made him think maybe his cousin really had it figured out. But not really... right?

But Piggy knew what he was doing was right. I mean how couldn't it be? He was an underwriter for the third largest bank in the United Prairies. And while it provided some sense of stability and a reasonable amount of time off, he spent a lot of time pondering how funny it was that his job consisted of writing about possible fire hazards in sleeping areas of barns he could probably never afford. His parents, who called him Larry even though his real name is Lawrence and had a very very large barn, always nagged him about when he would get a barn and mare of his own. But Piggy had settled on figuring out who he was - which was hard on account of the three names - before he settled down.

The money leftover he did have was spent on food, which was really all that he had (he also had a HayStation 4) to make him feel better - and probably the reason he couldn't actually meet a mare. And while everyone told him it would kill him one day (damn sugar), he figured that day was far enough away that in that time he could eliminate his debt, buy a nice new toilet and bed, and maybe one day he could go overseas and see the world wonders. He promised himself that tonight he would start saving and really start living - not just eating.

As he made that promise and flicked off his monitor to begin the daily prance back home he felt a tightness in his chest. The office seemed to spin. He found it hard to breathe. Piggy felt dizzy. He felt scared, alone and like the world was crumbling. He crouched to one knee and wondered which name everyone would remember him as. He felt sad that he spent so much time striving for a future he was unsure he wanted and never really adventured. He admitted to himself that he had never even really tried to talk to a mare.

But then he passed some gas and felt alright again.

He looked around, hoping nobody had saw him. One of the pigs, without looking up from his computer, commented on the stench.

He started for the elevator.

"Wow, that was scary" Piggy thought to himself. "What the hell was that? I'm going to celebrate getting through that with a big meatball sub. I can always start saving and living tomorrow."