Murder Pig Jr.

 

Murder Pig Jr.

 

Murder Pig Jr was raised

by a couple of social working mozzarella farmers

on a small island located somewhere

between last week and Spain

 

He was already in his 20’s and had a beard

and a slight astigmatism

when he learned the truth behind

his biological parentage

 

His mother was Murder Pig, a possessed

Piggy Bank who did most of her serial killing

back in the 1930’s but was still known

to perk up every once and a while

and murder someone new for no reason

from time to time

 

The identity of Murder Pig Jr.’s father

was a bit more mysterious than well known facts

like a Star Wars movie family picnic

before Darth Vader spilled the beans

or an especially unwatchablely painful episode of Maury Povich

(Historical Note: Every episode of Maury Povich

is unwatchablely painful)

 

Upon discovering the truth of his biological mother

Murder Pig Jr. thought about trying to track Murder Pig down

because he’d always wanted to meet his real mother

but then he also thought: What if I do that and when I find her

she murders me?

 

While feeling conflicted Murder Pig Jr adjusted his thick back glasses

and tugged on his staggered stubble beard

and looked down at his shoes

 

the toes of his right foot were exposed

do to the shoddy state of his current sneakers

his big toe had dug a hole in the canvases

 

and because the fabric had been slaughtered

(the murder weapon being time and dull friction)

and his toe was the only logical suspect

and still even now all these months after lingered

around at the crime scene like a guilty TV dinner

Murder Pig Jr. began to wonder

what with his mom’s dismembered tendencies

“What if I’m just like my mother?” (–When Doves Cry/Prince)

What if I grow up to murder too?

 

Forget the fact that Murder Pig Jr. was already fully grown

Forget the fact that Opa is German for Grandpa

Forget the fact that it was almost 11 a.m. and she hadn’t peed yet

 

Forget the fact that if Justin Long’s penis

was just a little bit smaller

he’d be Justin Longish

 

Forget it all! Like Murder Pig Jr. forgot it

because he was surrounded by aspartame

and was currently obsessing over that age old debate

 

of nature vs. nurture

accidentally catching your parents fucking

vs. having that goddamn Final Countdown song

stuck in your head for a longish afternoon

 

Dr. Ponytail’s prodigious hair ties vs. an anti-Semitic Quesarito

The Bionic Dog vs. a parking lot full of distemper riddled groupies

the oncoming horizon of 8 a.m. vs. 8:30!

Shit!

 

Murder Pig Jr. didn’t know what to do next

so he decided to sleep on it

which was just fine with the narrator because

it’d been a long day

 

and Tic Tac withdrawal was a real thing

and all the TicTac stores were closed

and wouldn’t open again until tomorrow morning

 

the narrator’s hands shook like an R2D2 Pez dispenser

passed around half hazardly at an ameliorated gang bang

 

Let’s just pick this thing up again in the morning

the jones-ing narrator said to himself

the sun setting behind him like a bad song by Menudo

 

as Murder Pig Jr. stood on a small shelf in the dark

staring across a bleak as hell room

 

and listened to the quiet voice behind him whisper

“Hello son”