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+--- Thread: Pig on the Wing (/showthread.php?tid=36896)
Pig on the Wing - Taco - 04-29-2020
It was a rainy day in New Jersey as Taco lifted his snout from the straw he slept on. The plain blue tarp shifted, allowing just a sliver of morning sunlight into his dark brown eyes. He felt the cold invade his little nest, the metal shed doors doing little to insulate the boxy room from the elements.
"Onk."
He exclaimed, his morning greeting to another day. The grey sky didn't give him the consideration of a reply.
"Onk onk."
He stood now, shaking his body to toss of the lingering bits of straw and the rest of the tarp. His animal carrier cage door was hanging ajar, as always. He was free to roam about the little back yard he lived in. Even the fenced in part of the yard that was just for him was left open. That was nice of them. Taco often found himself confined to the twenty or thirty square feet set aside as a pen, but not today. Today he was free to..
BARKBARKBARKBARKBARK
The dog again. Taco was caught unaware this time, and he jumped, startled, as the neighbor dog continued to loudly protest Taco's very presence on the same earth as himself. Taco shook it off, though. He had no time for tiresome back yard quarrels.
With a low grunt and a gutteral bark of his own, Taco backed the noisy canine away. Taco knew he must outweigh the dog by a hundred pounds or more, that he'd chew threw him like he were an old pineapple - but the dog seemed to have no idea of his size disadvantage. He had no clue how hopeless the fight he'd find himself in would be, were it not for a quarter inch of wooden slats between Taco and himself.
"Onk."
The dog reminded Taco of Peter Gilmour, his own upcoming opponent. So loud. So crude. So ubiquitous to his everyday life. And so, so, so ill-equipped to handle the fight he asks for.
"Oooooonk onk onk. Weeeeeeee. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE."
Taco knew he had to make some noise of his own to get the lazy human outside. He wanted his bowl filled before he woke up, so he could just open his eyes and begin eating. That's how pigs were supposed to live. Not some oddity in a cage in someone's back yard.
Taco did have an affinity for the man, though. He had known him for all of his life, after all. He had fond memories of being carried around in the man's arms back when he was a piglet. Of many belly rubs and ear scratches. He was still a bit sour over being dragged across the country in the back of a moving truck, leaving the warmth and familiarity of the yard he'd spent years fertilizing and wandering about in. But, the man did seem happier, and the dog was funny.
The glass door slid open, finally, and the man walked outside in his robe, shivering.
"Geez, Taco, it's cold huh? How you doing big guy?"
"Onk."
"Oh yeah? You hungry?"
What a silly question. The man wasn't very smart. Taco knew this already, of course, he'd known it for a long time. It amused him, though.
"Onk onk onk."
"Yeah? Good boy... here, lemme get your food, okay?"
Taco stood aside and watched the man slide his naked feet into a pair of plastic sandals that made much more sense in Florida sand than on the cold grass of New Jersey. Not smart at all, this man.
"Onk!"
"I'm going! Geez..."
The man made his way across the grass, still shivering, and retrieved the bowl Taco's food belonged in. He stopped and looked at the overturned bowl where the water usually was as well.
"Taco, come on, man! You spilled your water again!"
Well, what did he expect him to do? Taco wanted to wet the dirt and push the mud around with his nose. How else was he going to accomplish that without water? Stupid.
"Gosh, every day..."
The man brought the bowl back to the porch and poured it full from a bag in a crate. Taco stared lustfully at the bag. If it weren't for the few wooden stairs in front of him, he knew he could eat every morsel while the dumb friendly man sat inside and spent his day looking out of windows.
Damn those stairs.
"Heeeeeere you go!"
The man dropped the bowl back at its usual spot, and Taco trundled over to it, dipping his snout inside. Resting his chinny chin chin on the lip of the bowl he was able to tilt it upwards and get more of the tasty little pellets to fall into his mouth.
"Onk."
"You're welcome. Here's the water too."
Ah, Taco was so enthralled with his breakfast he hadn't even noticed the man take and refill the water bowl. It was filled to the brim now with crystal clear water. Taco was already looking forward to washing the residue of his meal off in the bowl and making new mud with what was left over.
"See you in a while, little buddy!"
The man rubbed Taco's coarse hair on his head, brushing the black and white mohawk back between his ears. Then, he went back inside his manhouse.
Peter Gilmour wasn't half the man that Taco's feeder was. Taco knew this to his core, yet somehow he could still hear the blabbermouth ratlting on and on about how everyone else in the XWF should be sucking on his dick, or how nice it was in California, or how he got screwed after whatever his most recent embarrassing defeat aired. Taco could hear it in his sleep. He'd been listening to it for years, now. Since he barely had tusks, even.
Taco decided he needed to take out his aggression for once. Although he no longer had his testicles, he was still a man, after all. Still a boar. He wanted to show the loudmouth who his pack leader was, finally. Show him that he, Taco, was the alpha, and that Peter Gilmour was nothing more than a beta follower who didn't deserve the food in his own bowl.
Finishing his food, Taco turned his attention to his water bowl... and he thought of spilling Peter Gilmour's blood as easily as he spilled the water onto the cold dirt beneath it.
"Onk. Onk."
Taco was well fed, but he was hungry. He was freshly awaken, yet restless. He was toasty under his layer of fat and the tarps and straw beds... but Peter Gilmour's voice still chilled him down to his hooves.
Something had to be done.
Something would be done.
"Onk."