Pigs are People Too

by Keith P. Graham © 2003

Arthur Sanchez didn’t like the smell. Dead pigs smell even worse than live pigs, and the great freezer stunk of dead pigs. The freezer was hung with dozens of hog carcasses. Tom and Franz were unhooking them and placing the meat into the skid. Arthur drove the fork lift and kept up with them. Arthur also kept count.

“How many?” asked Franz. He was dressed in light pants and a t-shirt just like Arthur, but t-shirt was wet with sweat and his dark face was slick with it. A large dark blue tattoo of the ROTA or mystical wheel of fate could be seen on his right shoulder.

“Three more on this pallet and then five more pallets” answered Arthur.

“We ain’t going to make it.” Commented Tom as a he dropped a carcass on the pallet. “There’s only about 20 left.”

Arthur was way ahead of them. “We’re supposed to get 80 pigs. Sam’s going to be pissed.”

When they had finished, there were fifty-six dead porkers loaded in the back of the truck. Arthur found the warehouse manager got a receipt for the corrected number. Arthur wanted to cover his ass.

The hot Ohio summer air made the dead pigs smell even worse. They had to get to the restaurant as quickly as they could before the meat went south.

The Reese Ranch Bar-B-Q, on the outskirts of Tucker, Ohio, served about 50 pigs a night in the form of ribs, chops and steaks. The Reese Ranch had stopped raising hogs twenty years before in order to concentrate on the complicating task of cooking and serving barbeque.

Sam Meyers met Arthur at the doors to the Reese Ranch refrigerated storage.

Sam took the clipboard from Arthur as Tom and Franz started unloading the truck. He frowned as he inspected the scribble on the purchase order.

“What the hell? Only 50?”

“56.”

“Whatever. These are the special porkers for the Sunday Specials. We need 80. Damn!” Sam spat.

“They only had 56. We took all that they had.” Arthur protested.

“I’ll give ‘ em a call. I need those pigs.” Sam said.

“What’s so special about these pigs?” asked Arthur.

“See here? These came from that biotech company Orgolife. These are special pigs, grown for organ transplants. They are raised on milk and honey. The flesh is so sweet that grown men cry and fat women faint when they take a bite. They sell the organs for transplants and the leftovers are good eating.”

“I’ll call up the manager and give him hell.” Sam said.

Sam helped Franz and Tom finish unloading the truck. They hadn’t finished by the time Sam came back.

“Look,” said Sam, “they got a labor problem down at Orgolife. They can’t get me the pigs unless I can loan ‘ em some men. They have a bunch of porkers ready but not enough people to finish processing them.”

Arthur nodded his head.

“You and Franz go up Tucker and pick up 20 men.” Sam continued. “Take them down to Orgolife. With 20 men they say they can fill the order by 8 tonight.”

There was an illegal day labor market down in old Tucker in front of an abandoned MacDonald’s. Men stood in a line sharing smokes and waiting for any job from anyone hiring. It took Arthur five minutes to fill the truck. The men got in and squatted against the wall ready for the bumpy ride. A few women followed their men. Arthur let them ride along.

“Everybody out!” Franz yelled, as he jumped out of the truck. He and Arthur herded the men into the warehouse.

“I’ll stay with them and get them started.” Franz yelled to Arthur through the truck window. “You’ve got more pickups to make.”

It was 7:30 PM when Sam sent Arthur and Tom and back to Orgolife to pick up their order. They had to wait for the manager to get the keys and open up the freezer. The sign over the warehouse read “ Orgolife” and under it “Human Compatible Organs from Special Pigs”.

As Tom went in to start loading up the pigs Arthur asked: “What do they mean by Special Pigs?”

The manager answered. “These pigs are grown for organ transplants. Kidneys, hearts and corneas and such. They’ve got human DNA in them to make them compatible with people. They’re almost human. They even look like people; feet instead of hooves, longer legs and such.” He chuckled. “That’s why they taste so good.” He winked. “They say ‘long pig’ is the greatest delicacy there is.”

Arthur’s mouth went dry and he couldn’t think of anything to say. At that moment a old woman came up to the two men. Arthur recognized her from the truck ride.

“Have you seen my man?” She asked in broken English. She put her hands gently against Arthur’s chest, pleading. “He came here today to work and he never come out.”

“Get lost” the manager yelled and moved to strike her. She moved out of his way. “I told you before that there ain’t nobody here. They’ve all gone home.”

“He would not have left without me.” She protested. “He told me to wait here.”

“Get out of here before I call immigration!”

The woman backed off to the street corner, but didn’t leave. “Please, please” she pleaded.

Arthur turned away to help Tom. He was coming out with a pallet of pig carcass on the fork lift. “We got some heavy one.” Tom said. As the lift went over a bump, one of the carcasses started to fall off of the pallet.

Arthur move to catch it, grabbing hold of the front legs, but almost dropped it. There was a dark blue tattoo clearly visible on the right shoulder. It was shaped like a wheel.

“Franz!” he thought to himself and felt like vomiting.

x x x




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