Bacon

Farmer Boy loves bacon.  He dreams about it.  He eats it for breakfast every morning.  People buy him bacon bits because he preaches his love of bacon everywhere he goes.  I find it very strange.

He and his friend Chad decided it was time to raise our own bacon here on the farm.  So, we had to get some pigs.

The pigs arrived this past Saturday.  We wanted pigs but I'm not sure they really wanted us.  They didn't want to get off the trailer.  They ran everywhere but out.  They squealed.  They had to be lifted up by their hind legs.  It was an intense battle, pig versus man.

"Hey you guys, stick together. They might have got us into this pen but if we stay together we can conquer.  Don't let them pick you up by the hind legs.  It's degrading.  I don't like being manhandled, it makes me feel small.  We are pigs.  Look for food.  The bigger we get, the better chance we have of defeating them, next time around.

"What the heck is going on over there?  What are those things?  Are they going to steal my bottle?  I like my bottle.  They better get their own bottle."

Farmer Boy and Chad won this battle.  They stood back and soaked up their victory.  Pigs in a pen.  Bacon.  How sweet it is.  As sweet as chocolate covered bacon.

It all reminds me of a song I learned in school, many years ago.

Piggie Wiggie in you pen, oink, oink, oink.

Are you eating corn again, oink, oink, oink.

If you get too fat you know, oink, oink, oink.

Off to market you must go, oink, oink, oink.