Categories > Original > Horror > THe Memoires of a Sexy Pig
THe Memoires of a Sexy Pig
0 ReviewsPrepare for a happy piggy time.
I didn't know really what to do. I stood in front of the pig, with the ax, contemplating. Just contemplating. I stared at her eyes and she stared back at me. It was night; the moon gave a revealing tone to her disgusting nose. Warts covered her nose, each one neighboring the other. The left side of her snout was so congested with slightly hairy warts; skin was barely seen within that area. In fact, as I looked closer, warts had grown upon warts, hair and dirt entangling themselves around the lumps of infected skin. It looked like a fortress made of warts, the dried dirt mixed with specks of blood, entangled in the hair creeping along the base of the lumps.
The snot on her nose added to the chill the wind had brought me. The moon reflected off the snot, slipping from her nostrils. The light gave the snot an almost holy manifestation to the pig's snout.
It was fat, and her eyes were still looking at me. They were like little pits inside her head, going all the way down to piggy hell. I hated looking at her eyes. For some reason, I had always thought that pigs had the capability to kill me. It knew I had an ax, and it knew I was looking at it.
I took my ax up and without thinking - I swung. I swung with my eyes close. I notice then I hadn't even opened the gate, because as the swing took me forward, my stomach came in a painful contact with the fence. The collision with wood gave me a painful blow to the bottom of my ribs cage. The wind escaped from my stomach and I fell back, letting go of the ax, trying franticly to breath. My neck twitched as I fell hitting the ground in a painful position. But any pain from this was quickly drowned out by the high-pitched squeals of the hog. Forcing my head up, I saw her with the ax pathetically driven into her snout. She kept walking backwards, the ax dragging on the ground, still stuck to her snout, following her. I saw the blood and with a few shakes of her head, she was able to separate herself from the bloody ax.
The snot on her nose added to the chill the wind had brought me. The moon reflected off the snot, slipping from her nostrils. The light gave the snot an almost holy manifestation to the pig's snout.
It was fat, and her eyes were still looking at me. They were like little pits inside her head, going all the way down to piggy hell. I hated looking at her eyes. For some reason, I had always thought that pigs had the capability to kill me. It knew I had an ax, and it knew I was looking at it.
I took my ax up and without thinking - I swung. I swung with my eyes close. I notice then I hadn't even opened the gate, because as the swing took me forward, my stomach came in a painful contact with the fence. The collision with wood gave me a painful blow to the bottom of my ribs cage. The wind escaped from my stomach and I fell back, letting go of the ax, trying franticly to breath. My neck twitched as I fell hitting the ground in a painful position. But any pain from this was quickly drowned out by the high-pitched squeals of the hog. Forcing my head up, I saw her with the ax pathetically driven into her snout. She kept walking backwards, the ax dragging on the ground, still stuck to her snout, following her. I saw the blood and with a few shakes of her head, she was able to separate herself from the bloody ax.
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