Roger Maxson - Pigs In Paradise

The laborers, embarrassed, their heads tilted, sheepishly stole sidelong glances at one another, adverting the rabbi’s and each other’s stare, for they knew where those gonads had gone, and no matter how earnestly the rabbi prayed, or the male congregation rocked and wailed, no miracle was going to return those gonads to their rightful owner. They were not going to grow back, come back, or be returned, for the three laborers had feasted on the rich delicacy only a few weeks before. Not two shared among three but a platter of many. For their labors, the laborers had amassed an impressive assortment of sheep, pig, and cow testicles. Once collected, peeled, egg and flour coated, salt and pepper added for taste, they were deep-fried to a golden brown. Then as an appetizer as Rocky Mountain oysters, or as the laborers preferred, swinging beef tips, along with a cocktail dipping sauce, served before the main dish of roast goose. “I have one for you, Hershel,” the youth minister said.

“What’s that, Randy?”

“A joke, but Catholics don’t much care for it. It’s about their beloved Virgin.”

“Let’s have it,” Reverend Beam laughed.

“When the Archangel Gabrielle visited the young virgin with the proposition of becoming impregnated by the Holy Ghost, she asked, ‘Will it hurt?’ To which the Angel replied, ‘Yes, but just a little.’ ‘All right,’ answered Mary, the little strumpet.”

In some cultures, among certain peoples of the world, particularly those who lived along the Ohio River Valley and Appalachia in the Southeast United States, it was believed that ingesting cows’ brains or pigs’ nuts would make one smart. It was also believed among the people of Appalachia and along the Ohio River Valley that they were God’s chosen, and heaven was theirs alone.

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Scrambled eggs in America

From the Ohio River Valley region and along Appalachia, a rich delicacy of calf brains was highly prized and often served with scrambled eggs. And bovine spine, brains, and gonads were often eaten, along with pig and sheep nuts, rounding out the top ten dishes that were believed to make a person smart, but with caution, not to eat too many. In this part of the country, regardless of the organ served, whether cows’ balls or brains, the dishes were often collectively called “cows’ brains.” Therefore, a dish of scrambled eggs served with cows’ brains was a euphemism used to protect their young against the nuts and bolts as it were of the vulgarities of the nuts and balls that were being served up on their platters.

As with many people across the face of the earth, the three laborers considered a battered platter of calf or pig or sheep nuts a worthy dish to ward off the ill effects of impotency. Consuming the gonads of a male mammal, it was believed, would repair the gonads of the male mammal eater. The three laborers ate plenty. They feasted on swinging beef tips, believing that the more they consumed the better the aphrodisiac. Therefore, as reality would dictate, Rabbi Ratzinger and his congregation, no matter how earnestly they prayed to G-d, no miracle was going to reverse the curse and return those gonads.

The American ministers, unlike the Asian or the nomad, knew they would one day enter the kingdom of heaven for a life spent groveling at the imaginary feet of Jesus. Unlike others, Jews, Muslims, or Chinese, the ministers knew not only did they have God on their side, but by virtue of their resemblance to the Lord, they were His precious chosen few. They were content, waiting for the triumphed return of their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

“How could these people ever think they’d be allowed into heaven?”

“Who,” Randy said, “the Jews?”

“Any of ‘em,” Reverend Hershel Beam said. “I mean, where does it say in the bible any of these people, people heaven?”

“I don’t know, the Old Testament?”

“Well, it doesn’t. Take my word for it.”

“Well, then, thank goodness.”

“No, Randy, thank God.”

The Thai laborer, like his American counterpart, didn’t need an education he thought as he took a shovel from the shelf and commenced shoveling sheep shit from the stalls. Unlike their American counterparts, though, the laborers had most of their faculties and senses about them and were under no delusion of an afterlife in another realm. They weren’t even white, so how could they possibly even think they’d be allowed into heaven reserved for good, Christian folk anyway? Any good Christian Fundamentalist knew this, for the Bible told them so.

At the edge of the village, Muslim men sat perched on the hill overlooking the farm below with the sheep, and their little lambs, along with the goats, grazing in the fields, the fields of goat and sheep and little lambs, and knew where their next feast was coming from. It was the end of Ramadan and the eve of the joyous three-day celebration of fast-breaking called Eid al-Fitr, which meant trouble for the animals of the moshav, for the Muslims were in a charitable mood and hungry too. It was sundown. Several men struck matches to the ends of cigarettes.

It was a moonless night and a cool breeze blew over the farm from the Sinai desert. Ezekiel and Dave perched in the great olive tree out in the middle of the main pasture.

“It sure is dark,” Ezekiel said.

“Yes, well, at least it’s not stormy,” Dave replied. There came a rustling from the dark, followed by a streak over the fence. “Did you see that?”

“What do you think I am, a barn owl?” Ezekiel said. “I can’t see anything. It’s dark.”

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

Mel rushed to the barn and told Boris, “If you want the farm animals to follow you as their savior, here’s your chance. Go save your flock.”

A flock of geese cackled as Boris ran up against them in the dark and they scattered. They quickly regrouped and waddled out into the rustling noises from the pasture. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they made out images, short-lived streaks, followed by sounds and voices they did not understand.

The farm animals, great and small, ducks, aforementioned geese, chickens, goats, and sheep attacked, protecting their own, as pigs, the pokers, boars, and sows squealed and fought off the marauders in the night. Noises came from the Egyptian side, the sound of fence giving way under the weight of men climbing over and falling into the pasture. Others fell back onto Egyptian soil with the spoils of the attack before anyone could stop them. Still more were chased along the fence line and prevented from any more damage than they had already wrecked.

Boris, with abandon, darted into the fields and bulldozed his way through dozens of robed images in the dark. He reared back onto his hind legs and kicked, rammed, and horned the raiders of the moshav. Someone cried out and splashed into the pond, followed by bleating. Someone else yelled in Arabic and was followed by peals of laughter. Others scrambled across the pasture, chased by a herd of wild geese. Ducks quacked, chickens crowed, and pigs squealed through the darkness. And from the cries heard in the dark, Boris must have spiked several men with his tusks as the tide turned. The animals turned back the rustlers, chasing them from the moshav, over the perimeter fence, and across the border into Egypt. The chickens crowed, the porkers squealed, and no longer from pain but pride. The animals had thwarted the raid. The fowl felt cocky for foiling the attack, and victory was theirs.

And from the safe sanctuary of the barn, Mel declared Boris the savior, for hadn’t he just saved them all, great and small, regardless of species, from the marauders and prevented them from taking more from among their flocks? The farm animals agreed and accepted this as gospel. “There would have been untold loses, and unfathomable pain, had it not been for the Godsend attention and power of Boris, our Lord, and Savior,” proclaimed Mel.