Porcine Memories
I guess it's because I'm of redneck ilk, but pigs, like raccoons, have played a memorable role in my life. This morning I saw a story about some teenagers in Des Moines that had been suspended from school for retaliation of a snowball throwing incident with a rival school. The Des Moines teens had taken fetal pigs, apparently of the preserved biological specimen type, and impaled them on the antennae of 15 cars in the parking lot of the rival school. They also smeared crawdads on the windshields and hoods of the cars.
Sadly, I have to admit that something this vile reminds me of an incident that took place when I was a teenager. I was going to a brand new "private" school that had been the recipient of numerous gifts of laboratory supplies from a state college. Obviously the college saw it as a time to get rid of a few, shall we say, less than pristine biological specimens, for in the array of jars and containers was a #10 can with bloated ends and no label. We all pondered what rancid treasure could be hidden inside that large silver time capsule. I suppose the chemistry teacher's desire was to keep it intact for generations to come because she forbade the opening of the can.
Curiosity not only killed the cat, it also exposed a booty of several ripe fetal pigs to some teenage boys. They shall remain unnamed only because I don't know exactly who did it. I was certainly not among them. Of course when one comes upon such a find as this, the next question can only be, "How can we use this destructively?" This is where the new English teacher, Mr. Wilson, comes into play. Mr. Wilson, whose Teaching Certificate still bore the fresh ink of a newly minted college graduate, was a slight man, nice but oblivious of the mischief that drives teenage boys. I say oblivious because had he known what they were capable of doing, surely he would have kept the doors on his brand-spanking-new Chrysler New Yorker locked at all times. The unfortunate litter of fetal pigs soon came to reside under the front seat of Mr. Wilson's car.
To the best of my knowledge no one actually witnessed Mr. Wilson's reaction at the end of the day when he went to his car to go home. I do recall that the "usual suspects" were rounded up and corporal punishment was bestowed unto them. In that day and age, a beating was the cure for anything socially unacceptable. It kept it from happening again...well, that AND the lack of anymore rancid fetal pigs.
Sadly, I have to admit that something this vile reminds me of an incident that took place when I was a teenager. I was going to a brand new "private" school that had been the recipient of numerous gifts of laboratory supplies from a state college. Obviously the college saw it as a time to get rid of a few, shall we say, less than pristine biological specimens, for in the array of jars and containers was a #10 can with bloated ends and no label. We all pondered what rancid treasure could be hidden inside that large silver time capsule. I suppose the chemistry teacher's desire was to keep it intact for generations to come because she forbade the opening of the can.
Curiosity not only killed the cat, it also exposed a booty of several ripe fetal pigs to some teenage boys. They shall remain unnamed only because I don't know exactly who did it. I was certainly not among them. Of course when one comes upon such a find as this, the next question can only be, "How can we use this destructively?" This is where the new English teacher, Mr. Wilson, comes into play. Mr. Wilson, whose Teaching Certificate still bore the fresh ink of a newly minted college graduate, was a slight man, nice but oblivious of the mischief that drives teenage boys. I say oblivious because had he known what they were capable of doing, surely he would have kept the doors on his brand-spanking-new Chrysler New Yorker locked at all times. The unfortunate litter of fetal pigs soon came to reside under the front seat of Mr. Wilson's car.
To the best of my knowledge no one actually witnessed Mr. Wilson's reaction at the end of the day when he went to his car to go home. I do recall that the "usual suspects" were rounded up and corporal punishment was bestowed unto them. In that day and age, a beating was the cure for anything socially unacceptable. It kept it from happening again...well, that AND the lack of anymore rancid fetal pigs.
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