The Curiously Twisted Tale of the Peg-Legged Pig
My brother had a farm in Georgia, and a neighbor, Mr. Fulcher. My brother told me this story:
Brother: “Good Morning, Mr. Fulcher.”
Neighbor: “Mornin’.”
Brother: “You’ve got a nice place here.”
Neighbor: “Yep Keeps me busy.”
Brother: “That’s an unusual looking pig over there.”
Neighbor: “Yeah. That ol’ feller’s been around awhile. I keep him on for good luck.”
Brother: “Good luck?”
Neighbor: “Yep. That pig saved my life two summers back. I was tryin’ to pull out a stump when the tractor flipped on me. It was pressin’ on my chest so’s I couldn’t breathe. Well, that pig come along and started rootin’ around under my shoulders an’ such, and pretty soon I was able to squirm out from under the tractor.”
Brother: “Wow! I can see why you keep him around.”
Neighbor: “Well, not only that, but here in October, we had a fire going in the kitchen stove. After we went to bed, the house filled up with smoke. That pig started rubbing, and bumping up agin the house right under my bedroom window. We all woke up coughin’ an’ got out of the house quick. Saved all of us, that time, I reckon.”
Brother scratched his head. “I still don’t see what any of that has to do with the pig having a peg leg?”
Neighbor, pulling himself up proudly: “Well, sir. When you’ve got a pig as good as all that, you don’t want to go eatin’ it all at once!”
Don’t forget to notify PETA.