I Will Always See You Again in Pig Latin

[ WordBytes of Modern-Day Parables ]

This story is a modern-day parable in two parts. In part i, the unhappy pig reveals our attitudes in loving those who are hard to love. Part 2 is well-nigh what happens when love is rejected.

Part I

In one case upon a time, at that place lived a Farmer who owned many kinds of animals, and he loved them all every bit. It didn't matter how useful they were to him or how beautiful they looked, he enjoyed spending fourth dimension with each one. When he fed them, he would always bring together them in their field or stall or pen, to talk to them, stroke them, brush them, pat them and play with them. By the end of the solar day, he smelled simply like them and he didn't even listen.

But his Wife did. "Whew!" she exclaimed, pinching her olfactory organ. "The business firm is clean — permit's keep it that manner. Delight go accept a shower!"

The Farmer loved his Married woman, so her reaction did non offend him. He washed off the farm dirt and brute smells without a moment's hesitation. So he gave her his attention all evening, talking to her, stroking her emotional needs, brushing her pilus, patting her on the dorsum for the piece of work she had accomplished, and playing her favorite games.

One evening the Farmer said to his Wife as they relaxed by the fire, "Today, all the subcontract animals told me how nice y'all've been to them."

The Wife smiled. "Yeah, I endeavour to love them as y'all love them."

"Just there is one animal who is unhappy with you," the Farmer said.

"Which i?" asked the Wife, genuinely concerned.

"The Sus scrofa."

"Oh, the Pig." The Wife nodded knowingly.

"The Hog said you only stop by long plenty to say hello and you never play with him in his pen."

"Well, I really do honey him. I try to evidence him my beloved by giving him extra tabular array scraps," noted the wife. "I know he likes that."

"Yep, but you never go into the pen with him to tickle his belly or stroke his back."

"My honey husband," said the Married woman. "If I got into that Pigpen, I would get dirty. Very dirty! The ground is one big sloppy mud pool, and the Pig loves to roll effectually in it. I prefer to look at him and talk to him without getting into the mud with him."

"I understand," said the Farmer. "But keeping your distance makes the Pig very unhappy. When I visit him, I let him slosh effectually and splash mud on me."

"I cannot exist similar you," the Married woman replied with a sad frown. "Y'all wear high farming boots only I accept no high farming boots. Besides, it's hard for me to see the beauty of the Pig that lies beneath the layers of mud. It'southward easy to requite attending to the Horse; he looks graceful running quietly in the field and he'due south helpful when he takes me where I need to become. I can fifty-fifty enjoy the Ox whose strong muscles make it possible for you to plow the fields. The Rooster isn't beautiful, but he helps me get upwardly in the morning. The Hens tin exist nasty sometimes, simply they provide me with good eggs to swallow. The Pig — I know he is smart and friendly, merely he keeps wallowing in the mud. I don't know how to enjoy his intelligence and friendship without getting sucked up into his mud."

The next twenty-four hours, the Farmer explained to the Pig what his Wife had said.

"Then I will take a bath," said the Pig. "I will make myself expect clean so that your Wife will want to spend time with me."

Later, when the Farmer's Wife went out to visit the animals, the Pig snorted loudly and asked her to visit him first.

"See what I've done!" said the Sus scrofa. "I washed off the dirt and I've been conscientious all day so that no mud would get splashed up onto me."

"You look like the well-nigh beautiful Pig I've ever seen," said the Farmer'south Wife. "Here are some extra table scraps for y'all to eat. I'll run into you again tomorrow with more food from the house."

"Just why won't you come in and play with me?" asked the Grunter.

"My dear Grunter," said the Farmer's Wife. "You expect clean, merely how long tin you stay make clean? And how long can I stay clean if I bring together you in your pen? You still live in the mud."

---

Part 2

Ane day, the Farmer'southward Wife looked out the window of her house and saw the dark figure of a man approaching the subcontract.

"Who is that?" the Married woman asked her husband.

The Farmer's expression grew lamentable. "That is the Butcher. He is coming to slaughter the Hog."

"No!" said his horrified Wife. "We can't allow that happen!"

"Become to the Pig and see if he'll let you hide him from the Butcher."

"I will! I will!" said the Wife as she hurried to the sus scrofa pen.

When she got to the pig pen, she found the Pig rolling around in the mud, as usual. She greeted the squealer from far enough away to avert getting splashed past his mud.

"Your life is in danger," she told the Sus scrofa.

"I don't meet any danger," replied the Sus scrofa.

"The Butcher is coming! "

"I don't meet whatsoever Butcher."

"Trust me, he's coming. The Farmer and I saw him walking downwards the route toward our farm. Come out of this pig pen, and let me take you to the firm. The Farmer will clean yous upwardly, and when the Butcher arrives, he won't recognize y'all. And you should stay in our house from now on. The Butcher will never come up looking for you there."

The Squealer laughed. "I know you hateful well," he said, "but I don't want to leave my grunter pen. I love my hog pen. It has all this mud that I enjoy and then much. If I move into your house, I'll accept to stay clean. Yuk! That's non me. Those difficult floors are non something I'chiliad familiar with. I don't know how to roll around on those floors and have fun."

"Simply you don't understand, my dear friend," pleaded the Married woman. "Our house will protect you from the Butcher. Information technology is good to be make clean. It is practiced to live with the Farmer. You'll like it even better than your old pig pen."

The Squealer shook his head. "Information technology'due south y'all who don't understand. I accept been enjoying this grunter pen with its delightful mud for equally long as I tin call up. I'll lose something very important to me if I leave it."

"If you stay, you'll loose your life!" said the Farmer's Married woman.

As the Sus scrofa laughed in disbelief, the Butcher arrived. He greeted the Pig with a friendly smile and said, "Hello, friend. May I bring together you in your pig pen?"

"Practice you like to play in the mud?" asked the Pig.

"Oh, aye, I certain practise, especially if I can play in the mud with you."

"Don't let him in," begged the Married woman. "He is the Butcher. He is going to kill you."

The Sus scrofa chuckled. "Yous're mistaken," he said. "This is no Butcher. He called me his friend. He wants to go into the mud with me. Await! He fifty-fifty has mud already on him. This is something you would not do for me. You say you're my friend, just yous never come very shut to me. You don't like my pig pen at all, and if yous don't like my pig pen, then yous don't similar me." Then he said to the Butcher, "If you truly are my friend, come wallow in the mud with me."

Then the Butcher walked into the pig pen, got down on his hands and knees, and rolled in the mud with the Pig. While they played together, the Farmer's Married woman noticed that the Butcher had a chain in his pocket — a chain for the Pig's neck to pb him off to the slaughterhouse. The Wife ran dorsum to the house to find her husband.

"The Pig won't listen to me!" she told him. "You've got to practise something to save him!

The Farmer hurried to the grunter pen with his Married woman close backside, and he watched the Pig and the Butcher play together.

"Don't just stand up there, do something," said the Wife to her married man.

"I tin can't," he replied. "It'southward the Grunter'southward selection to play with the Butcher. I can't force him to cease."

"But you lot can open his eyes so he can see the Butcher for who he really is. Wash the mud off his optics."

"I have opened his optics many times," said the Farmer with slap-up sadness, "and for a moment he sees how dainty the farm is outside of his pig pen, but he prefers to stay in his pig pen considering it's familiar. He puts the mud back on his eyes so he doesn't accept to deal with the reality of the unfamiliar."

With tears in her optics, the Wife yelled at the Butcher, "Yous leave that Squealer alone! Get out of there!"

The Butcher looked at the Farmer's Wife. "Merely the Pig can make me go out. Pig, my friend, do y'all want me to end playing with you lot?"

"No! I'thousand enjoying you lot. You're the only one who'southward willing to get into the mud with me.

The Farmer stepped up to the gate of the pig pen. "That'due south not truthful," he said softly. "You lot know that every 24-hour interval I visit yous in your squealer pen." He opened the gate and entered the pen, simply he did not become dirty.

"Stay out!" said the Butcher. "You're not willing to play in the mud with my friend, so stay out." In a jealous rage, he threw some mud onto the Farmer. The mud slid off without leaving a stain or a mark. The Butcher then took the concatenation out of his pocket and slipped information technology around the neck of the Grunter.

"I'm leaving and I'm taking the Pig with me," said the Butcher. "I have a right to take him. You are not as expert a friend as I am, because y'all are non willing to get muddied with him."

"That'due south correct!" agreed the Pig. "You lot've never allowed yourself to get dingy with me. This other homo is a better friend than y'all are."

"Oh, but I take gotten muddied with you," said the Farmer. "Don't you remember? I covered myself with the mud of every Pig in the whole world, including your mud, my honey friend. And so I allow this Butcher kill me in your place. But he could only continue me dead for three days. I am alive today as your Farmer considering love lives forever."

The Butcher sneered and began to pb the Pig by the chain. He said to the Farmer, "Your dearest volition do the Pig no skilful because he loves his mud more than he loves you lot."

"That is true," said the Farmer with a sigh of groovy sadness. He looked at the Hog with deep tenderness. "It is upwards to you," he told the Pig. "Practice you desire to go with the Butcher or practise you lot want to come live with me in my house where I can protect you from the Butcher?"

"This friend is no butcher," replied the Pig. "He won't kill me. But you lot desire to kill my spirit by destroying my love for the mud."

"Yes, my friend," said the Farmer. "If you come alive in my house, your erstwhile way of living will dice. But you'll bask your new life — more than y'all can imagine."

"Don't listen to the Farmer," said the Butcher to the Pig. "If you come with me, y'all tin keep your mud. I accept y'all as y'all are, mud and all, simply the Farmer conspicuously does non. If he truly loves you lot like he says he does, he'll allow you lot keep your mud."

The Farmer looked at the Squealer. "I accept let you lot keep your mud all these many years. I will continue to let yous go on your mud if that is what you desire."

"I want to keep my mud," answered the Pig.

"Then I cannot protect y'all from the Butcher," said the Farmer.

And with that, the Butcher pulled the Pig's chain and led him downward the road toward the butchery.

Side by side: See more mod twenty-four hour period parables >>

© 1999 by Terry A. Modica
Likewise see Terry Modica'due south books >>

The Parable of the Unhappy Hog
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Source: https://wordbytes.org/parables/the-unhappy-pig/

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