via http://ift.tt/2pn3Xno:
unicornduke:
today I saw, in the back of a truck in an open cooler, a dead pig with its back legs sticking out over the side of the truck because it was too big for the cooler. when the truck hit a bump, they wobbled
I may have held up traffic turning at the light because I was laughing so hard
My sister has the world’s most hilari-terrible story ever about when she worked on a pig farm in Illinois. I’ll tell it, but I can’t really do it justice. I’m the chattiest of my sisters, the most voluble, and Farmsister tends to do more taciturn looming than chatting, but she and I are on a spectrum and sometimes she slides more my way.
So she tells this story with a lot of flailing gestures, and it’s a Live Experience ™. I’ll try to do it justice. Mind the TWs in the tags!
So she worked at a huge pig farm in IL, and went from being just an occasional laborer to being the manager. But there were some bumps along the way.
One day, there were a couple of sick pigs. Her boss asked her to take one of the sick pigs across town to the vet, who couldn’t make it out to the farm, or maybe charged more, hard to say, lost to the mists of storytelling.
So she gets this thing into the truck, and it’s sick but it’s still pretty fiesty, and she’s like, how am I going to keep this very large live animal in the bed of this not that large truck? And her boss is like, y’know, just tap the brakes if it looks too fiesty. She’s like, what, but there’s not really time to argue, because the thing’s already starting to climb out. So she gets in the truck and floors it, and heads for the vet.
Now, mostly, she’s got open roads to drive on, and all is well, while the truck’s moving the pig isn’t that interested in leaping out. So it chills, and she drives with her eye glued to the rearview, and the thing’s docile enough. But then she hits town, and there are stop signs and other cars. And the damn things starts to get antsy.
So she’s like. Driving like an asshole, swerving, braking sharply. The thing keeps climbing up on the tailgate, and she has to brake hard to knock it off. Remember how fucking big pigs are; this one wasn’t full-grown, but it wasn’t little. It’s at least 200 pounds of animated cunning. And it’s sick, but as I mentioned, it’s not really that sick. Not like, lie down and die sick. Definitely like, still gonna jump out this truck and make a break for it sick.
And then she hits a stoplight. And the fuckin’ thing is about to go. She has to get out of the truck and run around and smack the pig, with spectators, in the middle of town, like, don’t you dare get out of this truck, and there’s much hilarity. She manages to get back in the truck and floor it at the green light, and she swerves around and manages to not hit anybody or get murdered.
Gets to the vet. Breathlessly explains what’s up. Oh yeah sure, says the vet, who was maybe expecting her. They get the pig out of the truck and–
the vet kills the pig. Like, no blinking, no hesitation, straight up murders the animal, flips it over, does an autopsy right there. It’s like, still twitching.
My sister believed she was taking this animal for treatment, and had not been forewarned about this, so she just stood there gaping in shock like a total noob. But no, this had been the plan all along; the animal was to be destroyed for diagnosis, so that the rest of the herd could be saved or destroyed as necessary.
Possibly the best capper to the story is that when the vet was done, he loaded the dead pig back into the truck, autopsied parts and all, I guess because otherwise he’d have to charge for disposal.
So she had to drive back through town with a dead split-open still-bleeding carcass in the bed of the truck. Which– it’s a farming neighborhood, sure, but that was kind of a lot for suburban downtown Whereversville IL. I think it was like right at school dismissal time or something, too, so like, great, there’s little kids everywhere, and she just has this corpse stinking and bleeding…
She makes it back to the hog farm and is like, why did you make me take that live pig across town when we could have killed it here, and her boss was like, it seemed easier.
Believe it or not, when she tells it, it’s a funny story. Mostly because you can still sense the echoes of her formidable, towering rage.

unicornduke:
today I saw, in the back of a truck in an open cooler, a dead pig with its back legs sticking out over the side of the truck because it was too big for the cooler. when the truck hit a bump, they wobbled
I may have held up traffic turning at the light because I was laughing so hard
My sister has the world’s most hilari-terrible story ever about when she worked on a pig farm in Illinois. I’ll tell it, but I can’t really do it justice. I’m the chattiest of my sisters, the most voluble, and Farmsister tends to do more taciturn looming than chatting, but she and I are on a spectrum and sometimes she slides more my way.
So she tells this story with a lot of flailing gestures, and it’s a Live Experience ™. I’ll try to do it justice. Mind the TWs in the tags!
So she worked at a huge pig farm in IL, and went from being just an occasional laborer to being the manager. But there were some bumps along the way.
One day, there were a couple of sick pigs. Her boss asked her to take one of the sick pigs across town to the vet, who couldn’t make it out to the farm, or maybe charged more, hard to say, lost to the mists of storytelling.
So she gets this thing into the truck, and it’s sick but it’s still pretty fiesty, and she’s like, how am I going to keep this very large live animal in the bed of this not that large truck? And her boss is like, y’know, just tap the brakes if it looks too fiesty. She’s like, what, but there’s not really time to argue, because the thing’s already starting to climb out. So she gets in the truck and floors it, and heads for the vet.
Now, mostly, she’s got open roads to drive on, and all is well, while the truck’s moving the pig isn’t that interested in leaping out. So it chills, and she drives with her eye glued to the rearview, and the thing’s docile enough. But then she hits town, and there are stop signs and other cars. And the damn things starts to get antsy.
So she’s like. Driving like an asshole, swerving, braking sharply. The thing keeps climbing up on the tailgate, and she has to brake hard to knock it off. Remember how fucking big pigs are; this one wasn’t full-grown, but it wasn’t little. It’s at least 200 pounds of animated cunning. And it’s sick, but as I mentioned, it’s not really that sick. Not like, lie down and die sick. Definitely like, still gonna jump out this truck and make a break for it sick.
And then she hits a stoplight. And the fuckin’ thing is about to go. She has to get out of the truck and run around and smack the pig, with spectators, in the middle of town, like, don’t you dare get out of this truck, and there’s much hilarity. She manages to get back in the truck and floor it at the green light, and she swerves around and manages to not hit anybody or get murdered.
Gets to the vet. Breathlessly explains what’s up. Oh yeah sure, says the vet, who was maybe expecting her. They get the pig out of the truck and–
the vet kills the pig. Like, no blinking, no hesitation, straight up murders the animal, flips it over, does an autopsy right there. It’s like, still twitching.
My sister believed she was taking this animal for treatment, and had not been forewarned about this, so she just stood there gaping in shock like a total noob. But no, this had been the plan all along; the animal was to be destroyed for diagnosis, so that the rest of the herd could be saved or destroyed as necessary.
Possibly the best capper to the story is that when the vet was done, he loaded the dead pig back into the truck, autopsied parts and all, I guess because otherwise he’d have to charge for disposal.
So she had to drive back through town with a dead split-open still-bleeding carcass in the bed of the truck. Which– it’s a farming neighborhood, sure, but that was kind of a lot for suburban downtown Whereversville IL. I think it was like right at school dismissal time or something, too, so like, great, there’s little kids everywhere, and she just has this corpse stinking and bleeding…
She makes it back to the hog farm and is like, why did you make me take that live pig across town when we could have killed it here, and her boss was like, it seemed easier.
Believe it or not, when she tells it, it’s a funny story. Mostly because you can still sense the echoes of her formidable, towering rage.
