contemptible wretch

pigs. we are all, once, pigs, if we were at our finest. and this is an admirable thing. to be pigs, or to the puritan, at times, boars. such an admirable thing.

because, us, as pigs, want not but to bring betterment to our fellow animals. is this not so?

indeed, of many things that we hold dear, i think the most important would be the dogma that all animals are equal. yes. all of us. equal. though, in time, as many should come to learn, as i have, some animals are more equal than others.

but, i digress. being pigs. such an admirable thing to be. why, if we were born in such a way, what more could we want? what more could one ask for? personally, though, i was never one to mingle with the ruling pigs and boars. no, i guess, i am more suited, in company and in demeanour, to be with the horses. yes, it is an equally admirable thing, as long as we are not amongst the sheep. my skin says 'pig', but truthfully, i am nowhere as ingeneous (or kniving, or supercillious) as my kin. my heart shouts 'horse', instead. not such an admirable thing, maybe, but i am proud. so very proud.

but today. today, i mingle with the many pigs, in asking favours. for you see, there has been a shortage of hay in the farm (oh, no!), and though us pigs would be unaffected by such trivial things (for we are such admirable beings), it breaks my heart to say that all my horse kin are suffering. suffering more so than they should be, though there is much pride in suffering for us horses. yes, much pride.

so i ask the fellow pigs for hay. and they say there is many a procedure to be indulged in. for one cannot simply ask and be given hay - such an admirable task this procedures are. so very admirable. such that none could have done it better, than the pigs, of course! of course. and it fills my heart with much happiness. nay, joy. to be one of these pigs (and, of course, horses). such admiration. such pride.

but tomorrow. tomorrow, after asking for such a favour. i will wake up knowing, that my request is in the pipeline. yes, i have made a difference. though a horse or two may perish, there's pride, you know! pride in such suffering, because us horses have a job to do. much like us pigs, too. everyone has their place on the farm.

i wake up before tomorrow comes, though. sweating. much like a pig. hungry. much like a horse. and something feels not right. i have been feeling this way since. well. since putting in the documentation for hay. why? why would such a noble endeavour lead to such queasiness? or maybe they are unrelated. never you mind that, though. what is important is, i feel unwell. but i am still admirable. still proud. am i not?

what i need is a breather. yes, i shall wash my face in the trough, and sleep again. and tomorrow, when my documentation for hay has been processed. and the horses have their hay. and i have mine. everything will be alright. will it not? yes, everything will be alright.

hark! what is this? i look in the trough and there is a vile being! oh, no! a vile, contemptible wretch is staring back at me from beneath the depths of the murky water. surely the moonlight is playing tricks on me. but as i wash my face, i realise, this is no trick. no, no trick. such a hideous reflection. such that i have lost all admiration. all pride. in seeing myself. no! what is this disgusting alien that looks back at me?!

i am human.