Before I get to my terrible memory (which popped in to my head earlier this morning), just a quick thought about the big holiday tomorrow-
Please, dear Mother In Law, do not tell me again how the Book of Revelations is talking about Barack Obama. He is not a 'man from the East', he's not Muslim (and if he was, would this be a terrible crime?), he's not a communist, a socialist or any other kind of 'ist'. Adjust your tinfoil hat and be nice, or I'll make you go home.
Ok. The terrible memory. About oh, 16 years ago or so, I was living with my mom, only in her home (dear Lord, I'm right back where I started from). It was the weekend after Christmas, and I was helping her take down the tree and put the ornaments away. The next door neighbors had a rumbly, noisy pick up truck, and we heard it pull in to their driveway and screech to a halt. My mom, being the Gladys Kravitz that she is, immediately peeked out the blinds to spy.
The neighbors, who may or may not have been illegal immigrants, had a rather large pig in the back of the pick up. A real live pig. Standing there in the bed of the truck. Hmm. Normally I don't care what any of the neighbors are up to, but when there's livestock in the neighborhood, well, it raises ones curiosity.
The pig seemed fine, with a rope tied around his neck, which was tied to a hook or something on the truck. We watched the neighbors with interest, as three of them stood outside talking animatedly in Spanish. One went to the garage and came back out with a shovel. He began digging a hole in the front yard, while his compadres drank beer and watched. The world over, there is always two that hang around and do nothing for every one that works. That's just the way men do things, I guess.
So they dug and dug and dug, and my mom wonders aloud why on earth they would dig a hole in their front yard. Suddenly, it hit me. They were going to have a pig roast! And if that poor pig was alive, that meant that sometime soon, he was going to meet his maker, right on the other side of our living room window!
I couldn't bear the thought of listening to that poor pig die. So, I called the police. Kansas City Kansas police are a jaded lot, they've seen it and heard it all. So when I called to ask if it was legal to have livestock within the city limits, the guy on the other end of the line didn't seem too surprised at my question. He said, 'well, it depends on what it is.' I said, 'it's a pig, and it's in their driveway, and they're digging a big-ass hole for it'. He decided that yeah, it might be a good idea to send someone out.
The po-po showed up in about 15 minutes, a record by KCKPD standards. They got out, talked with the guys, checked ID and such, and then left. Then, before I could even wonder what was to become of this poor animal, the neighbors piled in to the car and left. And about two hours later, they came back not with the pig, but a big black trash bag, which I think held the poor slaughtered animal. Not long after that, there was smoke wafting up over the privacy fence from their back yard, and later that night, the sounds of drunken revelry and the aroma of pulled pork sandwhiches.
And so that is one of my terrible memories. It's awful, isn't it? I couldn't eat bacon for almost a whole week!