Paul Reaves: Pig Safari Man

The Savannah was angry that day, my friends. We had heard the call of the pigs the night before but they seemed so far away. So... very far away. As far away as I felt being a stranger in this strange land. I missed the city. I wondered what had brought me here. I told myself it was just the pig on the cover of the travel brochure but I knew, and as I saw in the eyes of my companions... it was something more.

I laced my hightops that morning with full resolve: I would shoot one of them pigs. We positioned ourselves just inside the tree line and waited. I had played this scene over and over in my mind. What it would be like. How I would feel. The cool thing I would say when I dropped the bastard. But fate is a fickle fellow. There are no words for when you meet a pig in his world and on his terms.

He rose out of the brush like the Kracken and charged. Maybe he was just standing there eating, I don't know, it was all happening so fast. I pulled my gun close and fired knowing I only had one shot before I was reduced to pig food. My companions fled. Frightened by the ghosts in the trees that mythology calls the "guy that owned the pig farm". The beast fell. Maybe he just toppled over, I don't know, I only heard the sound of my heart beating... and a single shot.

I had enough time to jump in for this photo op before the "ghost farmer man" called the cops.
Oh yeah, there was another dead pig too. I can only assume I am responsible for that slaying as well since they were both just laying around. Oinking and stuff. Only now that I am safe and back in a world that I understand can I truly appreciate what the pigs have taught me. But I'll keep that for me and for me alone. I learned a lot that day. And I thank them dead pigs.