Roger Maxson - Pigs In Paradise

“Well,” Ezekiel said, nodding toward the mouse, “before the cat gets his tongue?”

“Oh, no, thank you,” Dave said. “I couldn’t eat another thing.”

Mousey Tongue was also an atheist who, when not being pursued through the rafters by the capitalist pig, on occasion, defecated on the beams and took pleasure rolling his little turds over the edge, letting them fall where they may on the consecrated ground below where no one was the wiser, except the chickens who weren’t telling anyone. They were happy to clean house. As far as Mel knew, they were following rules number 5: “We shall not eat where we defecate;” and number 6: “We shall not defecate where we pray.”

When Mel called everyone to prayer, the chickens and ducks fell into position with the sheep falling in behind them. The pigs scattered about the sanctuary, and fell prostrate on the straw, many of them falling asleep where they lay.

“Well, at least those little piggies aren’t a herd,” Julius said.

Blaise and Beatrice watched quietly from the safety of their stalls, as did Stanley, chewing his cud. The sheep pressed their muzzles into each other, and from side to side, front to rear, they fanned out behind the chickens and ducks in the sanctuary. As Mel led the congregation in prayer, the Luzein and Border Leicester folded their front legs and kneeled, but their hind legs remained upright as they prayed to God for deliverance from evil.

“Know what I’m thinking?” Julius said to Ezekiel and Dave.

“Bedtime?” Ezekiel said.

“Shepherd’s pie,” Julius said as the sheep’s little white tails wagged happily. “I don’t know why. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been blessed with Shepherd’s pie. Have you ever had Shepherd’s pie?”

“We’ve had mince pie,” Dave said.

“Yes,” Ezekiel said, “and plum pudding.”

“Mm, the corn, the mashed potatoes, were my favorites, mashed potatoes you can suck thru a straw. Sometimes peas and carrots were added, and those little pearl onions. I was never fond of lamb or ground cow, though. I have friends.”

“May the Lord be with you,” Mel concluded.

“And with you,” responded the domesticated animals.

All the little lambs and piglets, the ducklings and chicks, gathered at Mel’s feet. They wanted to hear the story of how they came to be where they were in the world. “In the Beginning man stood upright in the Garden of Eden. He awoke to find himself in a mound of dung and sprang forth to greet the day. His name was Adam. As time went on, he grew increasingly bored, lonely in paradise. He asked God to send him a friend, a companion, someone he could play with. Thus, God, being the generous benevolent loving Father of all creatures, great and small, cut from Adam’s rib cage, a woman whose name was Eve. Once upon her feet, mud and dung were applied to Adam’s open wound to stop the bleeding. Since Adam was older, the first-born, and weighed more, he ruled all of Eden. Adam was a good man, a wise man, the father of us all who one day when asked by God, named each one of us as we were prodded and paraded by.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! The zebra?”

“Yes, the zebra.”

“And the beetle too?”

“Well, the beetle is an insect, but yes.”

“What about the weasel?”

“You must be referring to the parrot,” Mel said, but no one laughed.

“And the Australian dingo?” snorted one of the younger pigs.

Mel knew this was malicious intent. He would remember this porker.

“And the sheep?” said a Border Leicester.

“And he named the sheep too?” said her friend from Switzerland, a Luzein, and something of a rare breed.

“Yes,” Mel said with what was as close to a smile as he could make, considering he was a mule. “And Adam named the sheep too.” Mel knew this was good, with all good intentions for these were sheep.

They were of different breeds, though, the two dominant breeds on the moshav were the Luzein and the Border Leicester. The Border Leicester had a smooth hairless pink head with erect ears and a long roman nose with long, curly lustrous wool that was a much sought-after commodity used mostly for hand-spinning and other crafts. Although the Border Leicester were a long-wool breed with a long heavy fleece, the flock fared well in the arid environment and surrounding rugged terraced landscape. Although similar in size, the Luzein, named after the small town where the breed originated in Switzerland, their ears although pointed, dangled on either side of the long head. The Luzein stood high on their legs and were very vivacious. They, too, had fine features with a long un-fleeced head and fleece-free belly. Luzein were well regarded for their strong maternal instinct, an important mothering quality in nurturing and protecting their offspring.

Mel continued the story of man’s fall from grace when he was tempted by the sorceress Eve who fed him the apple from the Tree of Knowledge, which they were not allowed to know about. But God knew, knowing that she was a female, that she would not take no for an answer. Thus, she led Adam, and they ate the delicious apples from the tree of Knowledge. God called to them and made them answer for their indiscretions by banning them forever from the garden.

“At that moment they were made to hide their shame in animal skins and no longer solely able to live from the fruits and nuts and plants. Now they were made to kill or be killed and feed on the flesh of animals.”

“Oh, how terrible,” the animals cried and hid their heads.

“This is the wisdom of God for he is wise,” Mel said. “This has led animal-kind of all kinds to flourish and live among humankind across the face of the earth. Where humans are, so we are. Our relationship to man and how it has come to pass that man feeds us and feeds on us is that which makes the world go round. It is God’s plan, and we are in his hands.”

“Why?” asked a little whippersnapper, a piglet.

“The earth’s flat and that’s that!” gaggled the geese.

“It was to see if man could be trusted and kept from temptation, but he failed. Thus, man and woman were cast out of paradise and made to bleed and feel pain and hunger, and from that day to this one, ever since to hunt and eat animal flesh.”

The younger animals ran and hid as the chickens flew to the rafters.

“Oh, but we thank man for his fall from grace for it has allowed us to flourish and multiply and to be cared for and kept safe and nourished by man made in God’s image. So ends the word of God. Go forth now and multiply for it is your duty to serve God and man.”

“If he doesn’t sound like someone’s parrot, I don’t know who does?” Julius said to the ravens, but they did not answer. They were asleep.

By the time the service was over, both Blaise and Beatrice were asleep on their feet with Beatrice snoring ever so lightly. In a nearby pen, Molly, and her friend Praline, both leaders of their respective flocks, and not prone to such religious fervor, were also asleep, curled up warmly together in their part of the barn, where, once the euphoria wore off to allow them to sleep, the other sheep would eventually find their way. Praline was curious about most things around her. At certain moments like this, when she was in attendance, she often had questions, but would always think otherwise and not ask. If Adam named the sheep, did he not also name every breed for which she knew of at least four, including the Boer and Angora goats on the farm? The question was a simple one and she assumed the answer was just as simple. Did Adam name all the different breeds of animals? Someday she knew she would know the answer. Someday she knew she would ask the question.

Joseph, the elderly barn boar, 12-years-old, and 900 pounds, lay prostrate in one corner of the sanctuary with a small group of young piglets. “And 100 little angel-piglets fly around and land on the head of a pin.”