The Beloved Pig (a tragedy)

The farmer was not happy. In fact, he was positively furious. His most beloved possesion, a prized big named Betty, had been murdered.

He had gotten Betty when she was just a piglet, at a fair. As soon as he took her home, she barfed all over him. So he named her Betty, after his nasty ex wife.

After a few years, he had to acknowledge that she had been incorrectly named. Betty was his steadfast companion, and they won many a contest together. He entered her in five or six a year. Roy wasn’t a softy, but he did have a special place in his heart for Betty.

Now, Betty was laying on her side in the barn, her eyes glassed over. She’d been stabbed in the head and her choicest parts had been taken. It seemed like whoever had done the work was inexperienced. Shaken, Roy wondered who would commit such an offense. He was a nice guy and tried to see the best in every situation, but he was willing to make an exception in this case.

The farmer collected himself and looked mournfully at Betty. After a moment’s reflection, he took his flip-phone out of his pocket and called his cousin.

Fred picked up on the fifth ring. He was on break at the police station, but he didn’t mind answering Roy’s call. He’d always like Roy.

The farmer explained the situation to Fred. There was silence on the other end for a moment. “Murdered?” Fred asked, “a pig? Why would anyone murder your pig?”

“She was very special.” Roy said in his heavy country accent. Fred had to refrain from laughing. “She won many a prize. Would you mind being my detective?”

“Um...sure.” Fred sighed, “Would one of your competitors kill her? I’ve heard those competitions have high prize money sometimes. Most likely, someone just wanted some pork.” Fred couldn’t believe he was honestly dealing with the murder of a pig.

“Maybe it was the maid,” Roy reflected, “she always hated Betty. And the farmhand thought we should eat her.”

“I’ll think about it,” Fred answered, “I’ve got to go.” Actually, he heard the donuts in the break room calling. He also didn’t think he could contain his laughter much longer.

Roy sighed and closed his phone. He decided to bury Betty.

He didn’t have any idea of who would murder her. The maid hated Betty, it was true, because she had full reign of the house. Once, he remembered, she even said, “One day, I’m going to kill that pig!” The problem was, she didn’t like pork.

The farmhand constantly thought Betty was losing weight, and they needed to slaughter her now. He was a prime suspect.

As for his competitors, they all generally had pretty sound morals. Roy sat by Betty’s grave thinking about it.

Not long after, his phone rang. It was Fred. “I have a crazy idea,” he said as soon as Roy answered, “I know you have a pretty large circle of friends. Don’t tell anyone about your pig.” He explained why, and Roy understood.

A few days later, the mailman knocked on Roy’s door. Roy answered and offered the man a drink, as he always did. He accepted.

“Roy,” the mailman said with concern, “I was simply crushed to hear what happened to Betty. She was a very fine specimen, but I don’t know who’d go to such lengths.”

Roy looked at the mailman in horror.