Working Swine to Five

An Editorial by Pinkie
Found, Slaughtered and Shared by Conor
HodgeBlodge Carnicero

Guh, oh man, I do NOT feel good today. Not sure what it is, really, just not feeling quite right. Oh, I’m not sure, really, I just sort of woke up with it, you know? It was the usual, “SouuuIEEEE! SouuuuIEEEE!,” from the old alarm clock, but then I just couldn’t pound down that second bucket of slop. I feel awful. I’m not worried, though. Probably just a cold. So, you know, lots of fluids, I guess.

What? Work? Well of course they have to cover their asses and tell pigs not to come to work if they’re sick, but that’s just not realistic. What am I supposed to do, not eat slop and roll around in shit for a whole week while I get over a cold? In this recession, folks are getting laid off all the time. What am I supposed to do, start slacking at work? Why, so I can be next on the chopping block?

Look, working at this hotel-sponsored petting zoo here in Rosarito isn’t my dream job. But rich tourist children come to see me everyday. Seriously, like, hundreds if not thousands of people bring their kids every single day before getting back on airplanes and heading back over the border to God knows where – probably thousands of untold, far-flung locations all over the fucking world. It would be impossible to keep track of, really. Anyway whether I like it or not, I’ve got a job to do.

So in sickness or health, I’m going to get up, and put in my hours letting children rub their hands all over me, and put their fingers in my snout, and near my mouth and tear ducts, and I’ll breathe in their faces, and snot a little on their clothes, and lick their little hands clean when they offer me pellets from the vending machine, and then they’ll probably rub their eyes, and put their hands in their mouths, and eat lunch, and hold hands with their friends, and cough on their parents, and sneeze on produce at the grocery store, and forget to wash their hands before dinner – because that’s my job.

These are hard times, and we’d all love to only go to work when we’re healthy. Until then, I’m going to swallow this little tickle in the back of my throat, go out, and bring home the paycheck.