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|The Pig (standard:horror, 656 words)|
|Author: jopoguerrero||Added: Aug 14 2008||Views/Reads: 1766/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
“The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.” George Orwell, Animal Farm Once upon a time there was a wild pig who admired humans so much that he left his pigsty to live with men. The pig even gave himself a human name, Machupa, which means one who enjoys drinking – for he really enjoyed human drinks, especially a foaming cold beer. In his years of stay in the human world, Machupa never let a night pass without shots of booze; he often went home reeking with foul beerhouse odor. Also, in the human community, drinking and talking with men were Machupa's regular sources of income. He worked as a pulutan consultant – he advised people, for a fee, which food would go best with the drink they love. Thus, in the business of pairing food and wine, people listened to Machupa. When he said that a full-bodied red wine should go with cheese-laden goat meat, red wine aficionados sprinkled cheese in their caldereta. When he put his hoof up for the combo of semi-sweet wine and spicy food, people bought bicol express for their German wine. When he frowned at dog meat for gin, gin drinkers stopped ordering dinardaraan nga aso. When he explained that high-acid wines need high-acid food, men coupled their Italian wines with citrus. Machupa never failed to give convincing answers to queries on fitting drinks for pulutans, like tinuno, insarabasab, inbaliktad, bagbagis, caliente, and other local favorites. One night, his costumers asked him: “Is there a food which is good for all kinds of drinks?” “Yes, there is,” Machupa smiled. “A pork dinakdakan cooked and prepared by me. I can make a batch for all of you, if you are willing to pay the price.” The men were stunned, “Pork dinakdakan? But, Machupa, you are a pig.” “My point exactly, guys!” Machupa sniggered. “I'm a pig. I definitely know the tastiest parts of a pig. I know what to do with these tasty parts in order to make them fit for all your drinks – beer, red wine, champagne, brandy, even basi or tapuy. I'm a pig and I know my pork! Now, do you want to taste my pork dinakdakan or not?” Though still baffled, the men agreed. “Be here at around seven tomorrow night,” Machupa instructed. “Bring any kind of drink that you want; and of course, three hundred pesos for every plate of my pork dinakdakan.” The following night, the beerhouse was filled with drinkers wildly downing different kinds of beer and wine – all beamed in excitement for Machupa's special dish. After collecting their payments, plus thirty percent service charge for the beerhouse owner, Machupa distributed plates of pork dinakdakan. It was mainly a dish of grilled and chopped pig's ears, tongue and liver – mixed with lemon, white onions, salt, ginger, ground pepper, mayonnaise and pig's brains. And as Machupa expected, the men really enjoyed the pulutan. Some of them even boxed each other for the last plate. Others licked their plates for the remaining specks of the scrumptious dinakdakan. Machupa snickered as he counted a huge stack of one hundred peso bills. An hour later, the drinkers went home happily – but not until Machupa gave an assurance that he will again prepare another batch of pork dinakdakan for the following night. Then, Machupa also went home to his apartment near the riverside. He slept for a few hours. And before the dawn broke, he sluggishly proceeded to a refrigerated room in his basement. There Machupa checked the body of a boy he killed yesterday by pushing him from the top of a dike. Machupa kissed the boy's ears and whispered, “Certainly, my dear lost boy. Certainly, you'll be a more delicious pork dinakdakan than the noisy prostitute I served last night...Yes, I'm a pig and I know my pork!” Tweet
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