October 8, 2014

“Mother’s head swelled and swelled until it nearly exploded. That was when she became a pig. Her skin wasn’t pig pink nor did she have a curly pig but she was pig enough. Father and I struggled to keep her but she insisted on sliding out of the kitchen. She wanted to bury her head in the garbage heaps outside. Aluminum cans were her favorite afternoon snack. I threw rotten apples and plums out the windows and mother caught them in her mouth while rolling through puddles of rancid mud. We couldn’t scrub the smell off her skin. We scraped with scouring pads and stainless steel wool until her skin came up. But the stench was well in there.”

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