April 19, 2006 - Wednesday
| 7:24 PM - oink oink My next-door neighbor (not the periodic asker-outer, but the middle-of-the-night loud partier) just informed me that he'd be roasting a pig ("a hog, actually") this Sunday. This is the weekend that my mom is coming to visit; Sunday is the day that my aunt (& her sister) will be driving down from S.C. for quality time. When I mentioned my mom's visit to Neighbor Boy last week, I asked that he keep his dog on a leash for the duration of my mom's stay, as she is really quite afraid of the animals. "No problem--actually, I'll be out of town, so there's no problem." Turns out he will be in town. Roasting a 200 lb hog. "So...did you kill it yourself?" I asked, thinking of how he responded to my complaints from last week when I first noticed his habit of shooting at birds and squirrels from his roof with a pellet gun. "Kill it?" "Well, it's not dead yet." I stared at him blankly, wondering how he was going to find a hog to shoot by then. THEN it dawned on me: he had it stowed away at some farm nearby and would be slitting its throat sometime before the pig roast. I was wrong. "Well, that's what I was saying to ignore at 7 AM--that's when we're killing it. In the parking lot." I had the jaw-dropped-look minus the dropped jaw, as I was trying to mask my disgust and pretend that all was well. "Well, not the parking lot--but in the grass back there. We've got to slaughter it and cut it open and...." blah blah blah. ick ick ick. Now that I've ruined my appetite, I must make some queso dip for Elizabeth's get-together, which starts in 1 minute. |
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| .Robin  |
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