Zeus has been offered a landmark publishing deal by Parsley Books for his memoirs. It is with great pleasure that we offer here a short excerpt from this groundbreaking autobiography.
PORTRAIT OF THE PIG AS A YOUNG BOAR
Zeus was one of the reds, born with a defiant cowlick, four elegant feet, and a penchant for sarcasm. There were whispers at his birth that he was destined for greatness but, right from the beginning, his challenges were immense. He found himself locked in a large metal cage, surrounded by tired mothers used as breeding machines, and a multitude of baby guinea pigs who did not understand him. While inter-species contact was minimal, he was particularly bothered by one large dog. The animal had putrid breath and would pant through the side grates of the cage where Zeus lay pondering the universe.
On his twenty-first day of life, Zeus and several other small pigs were herded into a box by hands with ringed fingers and red chipped nail polish. Zeus bore his trial well among a dozen or so other small pigs. They slipped and slid for several hours until their new world finally came to a stop. Some of the little pigs were permanently damaged by this event - they would most likely utter gibberish for the rest of their lives and vote conservative.
Placed in a glass aquarium with four other pigs, Zeus watched as a sign was placed on the outside of his new "home". Adept at reading backwards, Zeus let out just the smallest gasp when he saw "Assorted guinea pigs, $49.99". People milled about, children pushed their faces to the glass, mouthing inanities: "Mommy, look! Can I have that one?!" Dozens of times Zeus was yanked from the aquarium cage and placed into small, smelly hands. Zeus tried being polite: "Excuse me. Excuse me! Put me down!" When that failed, he resorted to unreservedly pooping on the individuals.
Days went by and Zeus soon found himself the only small pig left. He was hardly ever bothered and was able to spend more time pondering the world's history, its problems, and sometimes even baseball. One day he noticed the sign on his glass wall changed to: "On sale! $9.99" Zeus was shattered. It had been humiliating enough being an object FOR sale - but to now be ON sale was somehow the last straw. He lay in a small defeated heap, staring blankly out the glass walls of his cage. Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. No one wanted him.
On one unspecified day in the fall of 2010, Porky Lady paid $9.99 plus tax and took home Mr. Zeus. The chat in the car was, to Zeus' remembrance, not entirely hopeless. While Zeus discerned rather quickly that Porky Lady was not the sharpest pencil in the box, she did, at least, have some contacts in Russell township that grew superior organic grass and clover.
Entering a small apartment, she placed him on a red sofa, offered him some cucumber, and welcomed him to his new home. Zeus, despite his great intellect, is not an impractical pig. "All right," he said to Porky Lady, "You'll do."