Sometimes you hear a tale too wild to be true. I've heard some whoppers in my life and if I hadn't watched this one unfold over the years I might not believe it myself.
But every word is true and verifiable, tragic to no end. But then, all the best comedies are really tragedies I suppose...
He married a lesbian at the age of 21. He didn't know this of course, and it's quite possible she didn't know it either. They bought a farm, and even had two children together before she fell madly in love with a farmers daughter and left him to raise the children alone.
Never one to just accept his fate, and for the sake of the kids he went out there and found a woman that was kindhearted, loved farm life, and so ugly there was little chance of her running away like the first.
As the kids got older they began asking him for a horse. He thought it sounded like a fine idea, but worried about the safety of the little ones around such a big animal. He didn't know much about horses and sought council from my dad.
Pop didn't know much either, despite the fact that we owned quite a few horses; he's always been the type to pay others for things he didn't care to learn. So on my dad's shitty advice he went to an auction and bought an old mare that seemed as gentle as a lamb and brought her home. Heck of a deal at only $300.
The kids took to her like ducks to water. That very first day they saddled her up and took turns riding for hours before desaddling her, brushing her down, cleaning her hooves, and coming her main and tail. They didn't know they were dressing her for her funeral.
When he walked out the next morning for work, and the old mare had fallen down dead right where he'd left her.
"Lord God, what am I going to tell the kids?" he thought.
At the very least he didn't want them to see this animal that they had fallen in love with just a few hours earlier lying at their front doorstep. He cranked up the tractor, dug a hole, and pushed her corpse in. He had to do something to cover this mess, and all day he thought about it at work.
About lunch it came to him: buy a breeding pair of goats and get the kids hyped on having little baby goats running around. Genius. He took off early, grabbed his new horse trailer and headed to the stocky and where he bought 2 young healthy goats, proud of himself for the first time in a long time.
The children took a little convincing but pretty quickly they quit asking where the horse went and were excited about the prospect of baby goats as their dad seemed to be. At some point he realized he'd be able to sell some of his goats and have a little extra cash. Goddammed genius.
After a couple of weeks went by and his goats weren't breeding he reckoned there must be some secret. Not knowing what else to do he called the veterinarian and asked him to come by and see if there was something wrong with his goats.
That afternoon they met in the field, and the vet only had one question. He lifted the tail of the first goat and said: "what do you see there friend?"
"um, testicles doc."
"right. And here?" he asked, lifting the tail of the other goat.
He slapped himself on the forehead. His two male goats wouldn't be breeding anytime soon.... At least not in any way that resulted in the promised baby animals he'd promised his children. Shit.
He sadly walked into the pharmacy on his way to work the next morning, not knowing how to explain this latest fuckup to his kids, when a light from heaven shone down on a poster on the community board. There was an advertisement for "baby pigs, $50".
Thank God, that's it. Pigs are smarter than dogs, and make great pets apparently. What could go wrong?
A few weeks later his wife came to him and said" Thank you so much for cleaning up after the piglet sweetie. I was so afraid I'd be cleaning pigshit every day."
"I haven't been cleaning up after it." he said.
They questioned the kids. Nope, not them. What the heck?
Less than a day later the pig quit taking food, was quite sluggish, and seemed really tired. He must be constipated, they concluded so he took him to the vet that morning on his way to the office.
About ten a.m. his phone rang. It was the vet. "Can you leave a little early and come by the office? You gotta see this."
"what is it doc? Can't you just tell me?"
"nah, you've got to see this."
When he got to the office, the vet met him at the door and somberly led him to an exam room in the back where his pig was lying on a table, not moving.
"I don't know how to tell you this.... Your pig ain't got a butthole."
"what?!!" Can you cut him one?"
"no, I'm sorry. We'll have to put him down." Fuck.
He went home that day and told his wife they were selling the farm, moving back to the city, and the kids would just have to be happy with fucking goldfish. He wasn't cut out for farm life, he concluded.
