Professional Weirdness
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"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."

Hunter S. Thompson

While cleaning out some stuff here at home, I recently found an old log book from one of my former places of employment. We documented client behavior in official logs for the files, but we kept an informal log book "under the table" in which we passed on ideas, feeling, comments, suspicions and in which we vented our frustrations. Being the most frustrated of the bunch and working 3rd shift, I had more time and more inclination to write in the informal log than the rest of the staff. After a couple of administration changes and complete staff turnover, it fell into disuse and I was the only one left with any connection to it. So I brought it home and have kept it ever since.

In the fall of 1982 I began a series of very short stories I called "Pig Tales." This is the first of the lot:

Once upon a time, in a land of rising expectations (before anyone ever heard of supply-side economics), there lived three little pigs named Biffy, Muffy, and Scooter. They all lived together with their Mother and Father (who they didn't like much because he was such a boar) in a moderately priced condo in one of the well-to-do WASP neighborhoods west of Chicago. They lived happily in the world of Izod shirts, Jordache jeans, topsiders, and L.L.Bean, until one day when their happy little world began to crumble before their very eyes. Muffy found out she was pregnant. The family was shocked, but even more so, when they found out that she didn't know if the father was Hugh Hampshire, the famed Playboar, or if it was the Pigskinhead Punker she met one night in Toledo while on a class field trip.

Soon after Muffy was sent to the Home for Unwed Piglets, tragedy struck again. Biffy was visciously murdered and turned into polish sausage by a deranged group of anti-semitic terrorists.

Poor Scooter. He was traumatized. First, he turned to alcohol, then to the Devil's Weed. One thing led to another, and soon the piglet was shooting Heroin under his hooves to hide the track marks from his distraught parents. Yes, firends and neighbors, things looked bad for Scooter, yes indeed.

But then, just as he was about to give up hope, medical science came to his rescue. With the help of the wonder drug, Thorazine, and a revolutionary surgical technique, the pre-frontal lobotomy, Scooter was able to lead a peaceful, if not particularly happy or productive life.

Of course, no story is complete without a moral, and so Katts and Kitties, the moral of this story is:

All's well that ends.

Ok, its not great fiction, just word games. I included it here because I'm feeling a bit nostalgic.

 

by Cziltang 
Posted: Wednesday, December 24 2003 12:13:26 PM