Pigs In Paradise

6
Dueling Banjos

Boris was something of a novelty, a curiosity, and anywhere Boris went the other animals were sure to follow. One day they followed him out to the feedlot behind the barn where Bruce stood, leaning against a fence post near the water tank.

Howard the Baptist stood in the shade of the fig tree beside the pond and warned the animals to be vigilant against the possibility of marauders in the night.

“Ignore the blasphemer,” Mel said from the sanctuary of the barn. “He is the heretic of the great heresy. Follow him and you shall surely follow him straight to hell.”

The yellow chicken came running from the barn flapping her yellow feathers. She ran into the barnyard crying, “The end is near! The end is near! Better have your houses in order. Good day, rabbi,” she sang past Boris at the compost pile on the other side of the fence. She would soon be followed by a mass exodus from the barn.

It was the Sabbath, and no Jews were to be seen, not even the moshavnik Perelman. Juan and Isabella Perelman didn’t always observe the Sabbath, but instead usually traveled or at least never came out to work on the farm. The laborers usually took advantage of the peace and tranquility of the Sabbath, but they knew regardless of the occasion, when there was work to be done, it was left to them to do it. Today was no exception. Rambunctious as always, a dozen ten-month-old porkers were separated, held in a pen with a loading ramp next to the barn. More anxious and nervous than usual, considering it was the Sabbath, the porkers rutted under the fence, squealing all the while that something was terribly wrong, that something awful was about to happen, but what or when they didn’t know. The laborers were not to be seen either and this, too, frightened the corralled pigs, and all the farm animals for that matter. Afraid, they flocked to Boris, the Berkshire boar, and Messiah.

When Boris saw the multitudes come rushing toward him, he sat down next to the compost pile and knew where his next meal was coming from. They gathered around him in a semi-circle. Separated as he was from the masses by a lot fence, the masses could not kiss his pig feet. Instead, they cried, “Oh, dear Lord! What does it all mean, Rabbi? Teach us!”

As the others gathered around, the piglets, and there were many, with three recent litters joining the general pig population, because pigs every three months, three weeks, and three days produced new offspring, fell at the great boar’s even-knuckled feet. Next were the little kids, the Angora and Boer goats, falling in behind. Many of the newborn little lambs were either with their mothers while they grazed along the slopes in the shade of the olive trees or in the barn where most of the fowl spent the afternoons away from the pigs and other animals of the farm. Except for Stanley. He was in the barn eating grain from the trough in his stall.

Boris opened his mouth to teach, and this was what the wise one taught, “Blessed are the farm animals, high and low, great and small, for they are poor, and the poor shall be rewarded in heaven.” Sally, the Sow, appeared from the throngs of animals with her broad of new piglets under hoof from her most recent litter to speak to her son, Boris, the runt of her seventh litter.

“You, my son, have done well to survive and thrive. For this, I am grateful. At first, I did not want you to be taken away, so far away as that, and in that direction.”

“I am the son of He who you do not see or know but that I do. She is merely a sow,” he said to the gathered animals. “I am the son of heaven. Be gone, sow, and litter no more.”

Ezekiel and Dave alighted in the branches of the fig tree that shaded Howard near the pond. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted, for in paradise, which art in heaven, no animal’s flesh is ever cut from the bone for the nourishment of heavenly creatures.”

Cheers went up among all the animals and they were happy.

Not so the Muslims, who perched on the ridge of the village overlooking the Israeli farm and the animals below. “For this is God’s gift to those who suffer for righteousness,” Boris said. “Remember, no one eats in heaven; thus, no one defecates.”

“Rabbi, must we wait for heaven before we are rewarded?”

“It is not for us to question the way of the Lord,” reproached another.

“And until that time that the poor shall enter the kingdom of heaven, they shall first inherit the earth.”

“Nor do they, say you, Rabbi, fornicate? I mean, procreate in heaven?”

“There is no sin of the flesh in heaven. In the kingdom of heaven, we live in peace, the lamb alongside the lion, the goat beside the wolf.”

“What?” said Billy St Cyr, the Angora goat, who was due for a shearing soon, especially now, the height of summer.

“And the bird shall nestle with the alligator.”

The animals ran to Howard the Baptist.

“Well, there you have it,” Dave said. “I guess we’re blessed because he mentioned animals of the wild.”

“Do you want to lie down next to the crocodile?”

“No, thank you. I don’t want to cuddle with a snake either,” Dave said.

“No, thank you, Boris,” Ezekiel said. “I don’t want to lie down with the boar either, lest he snore.”

“Rumor has it he does, as per Blaise.”

Howard said, “This is nothing. Nothing but evil, owned and operated by Satan, and our lives on this evil plane should come to an end as fast as possible, so that we may enter God’s world. God’s world is the true world and the domain of our Creator God. All else belongs to Satan, including the barn in which so many of you worship.”

Boris said, “As surely as you walk on four legs, I am the way. In my father’s house, there are many pigsties. Through me, you shall enter heaven, for I am the way, the light, the truth.”

The Baptist said, “A truth.”

Boris said, “The Truth.”

The Baptist said, “Semantics.”

Boris said, “The only truth you’ll ever need. Just as the rivers bleed in the spring, I am the calm in the storm, the beacon to light your way through the darkness of this world.”

“You mean bacon, don’t you?” said a sow and smiled.

Boris ignored her.

At the pond, Howard the Baptist poured water over the snout of a sow. He said to those in attendance, “You are animals. You are innocent. You do not need a barn to worship in. You carry the true religion within you. It is not in this world or place or within the walls of the barn. The only structure worthy to house the knowledge of the true religion is yourself, for it is found within you. The truth is your buttress against this other nonsense and the evils of this world that enslave us for the slaughter and nourishment of the slave master. The true religion is in your heart. It prepares you to enter through me, your Prefect, into the realm of heaven that which was made by our one true God for us, the good.” Howard the Perfect of the one true religion then recited the Lord’s Prayer. When he said, “Thank you Lord for our daily bread,” the pigs, omnivores every one, darted, and started a stampede back to Boris, their one true Messiah, as per Mel, their spiritual leader on earth or this farm, and away from Howard the heretic, as per Mel. Mel, standing in the shadows of the awning of the barn, was pleased.

“The pure of heart waddles in mud,” Mel said to his two henchmen, the Rottweilers Spotter and Trooper. They watched from the floor of the barn as Howard continued to baptize piglets, goats, and certain fowl in mud and water from the pond. “Stubborn pigs,” Mel said. “They are delusional. They think they’re doing God’s bidding. Take your pick, two idiots talking a good game. Fools both of them, but one talks my game while the other is of no consequence. We can stand to use a pet pig.”

Mel’s pet pig continued his teaching, “Blessed are the gentle lamb and the kid, the daughter and the son of the sheep and the goat, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after truth and righteousness, for they shall be filled with righteousness and truth. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy and be plentiful in heaven. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God upon entering the kingdom of paradise, which art in heaven.

“Blessed are those who are shepherded by righteous man, the Christian, for they are truly the true children of God, and shall be called as such, and their shepherds Godly. Blessed are those who are persecuted, marked for slaughter for righteousness’s sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. For righteousness’s sake allow yourselves to be ingested, digested, and well-rested, for eternal life in heaven is given to you who is risen through the digestive tract of righteous man, the Christian. For as the good shepherd leaves this earth upon death and enters life eternal in heaven, you, too, shall enter heaven through the righteous Christian’s bowel.”

They ran for Howard.

“Beware of all others,” Boris called after them. “The Jews, the Muslims, the false prophets, for you cannot enter paradise through the bowel of the infidel.”

“Oh, my God, are you kidding me?” said Dave, aloft in the rafters.

“No,” exclaimed Ezekiel. “He’s shitting you!”

Howard warned the animals gathered at the pond that the Muslim holiday Ramadan was upon them and that if they wanted to survive to the Jewish High Holidays, they should take heed and prepare for a possible raid coming from the desert in the foreseeable future. “Look how they salivate over our kids and little lambs.” Egyptians perched along the edge of the village that overlooked the Israeli moshav, all the while watching the farm animals graze in the fields below. Howard continued his sermon, preaching that they should stop procreating. It was a sin against nature. As the animal population dwindled, he reasoned, the humans would no longer procure or process them out for meat, and therefore would leave them alone as they faded from the earth, which was created by Satan anyway.

The animals ran for the sanctuary to seek forgiveness and reassurance from Mel.

“Ignore the heretic. He is the heretic of the great heresy,” he assured them. “Disregard everything that comes from his jaws. Follow Boris, your true Messiah.”

“Blessed are the Christians for it is through their kindness that we, too, shall enter into heaven,” Boris continued his sermon next to the compost pile.

The sheep settled in around Boris’s four-toed cloven hooves for comfort.

“Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth.”

“The mink — what the — I don’t want any stinking mink inheriting the earth.”

“No, no, friend, not mink, meek,” said a 6-year-old 250-pound boar. “The meek among us shall inherit the earth.”

“Friend, there are no mink among us.”

Pandemonium broke out in the pigpen as a 26-foot box truck came into view and backed against the loading ramp. On the side of the orange-paneled truck in black letters: “Harvey’s Pulled Pork Palace of Tel Aviv, live Blues music Friday and Sunday nights.” Through all the squeals of protest and chaos, two men prodded the porkers up the loading ramp into the box truck and, in short order, they had the dozen porkers loaded and were gone, never to be seen again. As for the two men, they would return.

Boris stood on two legs and to the faithful, he preached, “My friends, those porkers were rendered eunuchs for the benefit of man, and being that they are swine, you can rest assured that they are intended for the gastronomical pleasure of Christian man. Put yourselves upon the cutting block and you, too, shall be assured a place at God’s table.”

The faithful squealed for Howard.

Howard preached of the forces of good and evil, the dualism between God and Satan, a close game at best, the evils of flesh and blood, the entrapment by the body and of the earth, of light and darkness, the sins of humans in general. “Stop procreating,” he advised. “Humans will stop eating animal flesh as our populations dwindle to nothing.”

They turned to Boris, who said, “Blessed are you when people reproach you, persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven. For that is how they persecuted the swine prophets who came and went before you.”

Julius flew out and alighted on the right shoulder of Bruce. “Who’s winning?”

“Tied, two-all, the bottom of the fifth, with two outs and a goat on second,” Bruce said and shook his head.

“Hmm, the bottom of the fifth,” Julius said. He moved to the fence post afraid that his weight would become too much of a burden for Bruce to carry and wear him down. “I’m afraid this game is too slow for me to stay to the end. What if it went into extra endings! Oh, my goodness, it might never end!”

Bruce closed his eyes against the flies.

* * *

“Duck!” quacked a duck in the barn when a Chinese laborer appeared from nowhere. Chaos ensued as chickens, ducks and geese scrambled in all directions to hide in all corners of the barn. The laborer reached down and grabbed a goose by the neck and disappeared as quickly as he had come.

Two ducks ventured out and met in the middle of the sanctuary. They peered about, surveying the area as chickens, other ducks and the remaining geese came out from hiding.

“Oh, my goodness,” said the duck who had warned everyone. “That was close.” She looked at her friend.

Her friend said, “Don’t say it. Don’t say it.”

“Her goose is cooked.”

“Next time we may not be so lucky. Next time they might crave Peking duck.”

“Well, thanks be to Boris that none of us is from there!”

“Blessed are the Christians, for in their wondrous wisdom feed us,” Boris continued from the compost pile.

“If you call the slop they give us, food, you’re a bigger pig than I thought.”

“Blessed are the Christians who eat us.”

“Eat us? And you bless them for that?”

“You do not enter heaven through the bowels of a Muslim,” Boris explained. “However, because of our association with Jesus, we enter the Kingdom of God through the Christian’s digestive tract. And blessed is the Jewish God, Yahweh, for He granted asylum to the swine as well because the Jew did not like the sound of pigs squealing. It reminds him of the cries of babes. Rabbis, forever after, granted swine were dirty, and stupid, left us alone to frolic, and flock, and multiply.”

“Yes, well, I’m not so sure about that,” said a young boar, and lucky to be a boar. “He’s changed his mind because now some Jews are putting bacon on their plates.”

“They’re not kosher or devout as their Muslim neighbors. Regardless of what Muhammad said, or what he said that they did not hear, Muslims swore off pork.”

* * *

“So, when are you breaking out of this joint?” Julius said.

Bruce said, “When the tide comes in.”

“I didn’t know you could swim.”

“You’ll carry me to safety. Anything would be better than this shit.”

“I’m not sure, but it might depend on which way the wind blows. Don’t look now, but rumor has it, cell block number 9 is making a break for it later tonight. They have a tunnel dug, but I can’t bear to tell them it comes out under the Gaza Strip and not the Kerem Shalom mall.” Julius covered his beak with a wing as he turned his head to feign a laugh.

“Is the mule leading the way?”

“Are you kidding? He’s pinning his hopes on the back of the Bore of Berkshire, just as the Boar has the tail pinned on the donkey.”

“Tell us, O Lord, of Jesus and the Demon Swine.”

“Oh, yes, please do, Lord,” cried the piglets. “Tell us the story of how the demons were cast into swine.” And Boris did not disappoint. He told the story of how Jesus cast out demons into a herd of swine, but with a different outcome, which was joyous and beneficial, particularly to the young pigs among the farm animals.

“When Jesus came into the country, he was greeted by two people possessed by demons. They met him there on the road, coming out of tombs, and so exceedingly fierce, they would not allow anyone to pass that way, not even Jesus. ‘Behold,’ they cried out. ‘What do you know, it’s Jesus. What do we have to do with you, Jesus, Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the time?’ Jesus replied, ’No, not at all. Just passing through on my way to Galilee, friends, carry on.’ But the demons begged him, ‘If you cast us out, dear Lord, permit us to go away into that herd of pigs over there feeding as they are far away from us.’ And the Lord said to the demons, ’Go!’ They came out, and went into the herd of pigs, and behold it was said, and the whole herd of pigs rushed down the cliffs into the sea, and died against the rocks.”

“Oh, how awful,” the piglets cried.

Boris assured them by saying, “My family, my herd, do not let your hearts be troubled. This is not the end of the story. The Lord of Man, our God, did cast out the demons into the herd of swine, but they did not rush down to the sea to die. Instead, they rushed down to the sea to frolic in the sand, the sun, and the surf. They did not die against the rocks, but frolicked in the sea spray, for the demons were merely souls that entered into the pigs, and they were playful, full of mirth and laughter.”

Cheers went up from the gathered souls.

“And those who fed them fled, and went away into the city, and told everything, including what happened to those who were possessed with demons. And the pigs were left alone to their own devices. Thus, therefore, and so forth, today we are plentiful.”

The barnyard pigs and their piglets squealed with joy.

“Oh, tell us, Rabbi, tell us the rest of the story of the demon swineherd.”

“Later, after casting out the demons into the swineherd, Jesus, to show he was a good fellow, went down to the sea among them, and as he walked on water, blessed the pigs for they were lowly, and absolved them of their sins. When the prophet Mohammed appeared on the ridge, he witnessed the herd of pigs playing in the sand and shit, wadding in the waves, making sand sties and mud pies, squealing and pealing with laughter. He said unto his people, “Going forth from this day onward, from the wiggly tail to the snout, this is what is to be left out.” But his voice was drowned by the rush of the sea and not fully understood. Therefore, what his will be done, went unknown. Not sure what was and what wasn’t kosher to speak, Muslims, devout as they are, and not knowing fully from the wiggly tail to the snout what was to be left out, swore off everything between. This is why they now sit perched on the hill as they do, salivating over our brothers and sisters, the sheep and goats among us, and their young lambs and kids, for soon upon us will be Ramadan. Although Jesus is known as a friend to the lamb, it is widely seen that he was a greater friend to the pig. Thus, it is because of the love of Jesus shown to the pig that the Prophet Muhammad is our friend. Except for those poor souls along the Thames or the Rhine or the Danube or along the banks of the mighty Mississippi or the shores of Lake Pontchartrain, pigs are grateful to Jesus and Muhammad.”

“He’s not our friend,” said Billy Kidd, the Boer goat.

“Yes, Muhammad is a friend to the pig even though he doesn’t show it, just as Jesus is a friend to the lamb, and as the good shepherd that none of us want, he shows it. This, as we know, is not so lucky for our brothers and sisters, the sheep and goats. Having Jesus as your friend does not ward off the evils of cutting flesh from bone.”

“In other words,” Howard said from the pond, “Jesus does not protect the lamb from flesh-eating man, and as for the pigs, anything from the tail to the nose is fair game. Men even use lambskin to cover the shank, so they can fornicate and not procreate.”

The sheep were torn and confused. They ran from one sermon to the other, from Howard to Boris, and back again until Mel stated that the heretic preached exclusion. Inclusive was only meant for pigs, as in “Mohammed is our friend.” The sheep flocked to Boris, their Savior.

“Blessed are the wretched. Blessed are the poor, for they shall enter the animal kingdom of heaven,” Boris preached. “Although the way is narrow into the valley of clover on the other side of paradise, believe in this, also believe in me, and confess to your confessor, the holy prelate Mel, and you shall receive salvation and live forever in the animal kingdom of God, where no animal feeds off another. And remember, Yahweh, for he, too, is our friend. When hearing the squealing of the swine, he shrieked and declared them vulgar and unclean. Whereupon, the tribes of Israel soon thereafter exited Egypt by way of the Red Sea. Yes, it is Egypt where we are from, and it is Egypt, our paradise on earth, where we shall return.”

Boris said, “I light the way to paradise on earth, and only through me to heaven beyond. Follow me and you shall receive, for it is through me that you surely shall enter the gates of paradise, and though the way is wide, the path is narrow, and through these narrows are the desert mountains, and the valley of life on earth. It is our resting place on our journey into the animal kingdom of heaven.” This day that Boris sermonized to all the animals would one day be known as the sermon on the compost pile, where Boris delivered the Beastitudes.

Boris added that not long after their friend and benefactor, Muhammad had granted the swine a respite to live in Egypt, that he rose on the back of his favorite steed into paradise.

“That’s funny,” Julius said to Bruce at the water tank. “All these years, and I thought it was a unicorn. The great Prophet Muhammad was the only guy of all of humanity who could tame that unruly, wily unicorn. And as the last unicorn rose into the heavens, so, too, did Muhammad, riding into the clouds on its horn. Shows you what I know. What I know from these true stories is who’s the greater prophet, Jesus or Muhammad? Jesus, of course. Not only is Jesus God’s gift to man, but Jesus! Even after being nailed to the cross all day, Jesus ascended of his own volition. Whereas, Muhammad, whether on the back of his favorite steed or on the horn of that unruly unicorn, had to hitch a ride. That’s all the proof I need to prove that Jesus rocks!

“Bruce, when I die, I hope to have a wing and a prayer, so I, too, may make my way into the clouds above. But if not, I’ll take an elevator. What say, you, my old friend?”

“I’ll fly,” Bruce said.

“Oh, really,” Julius said, flapping his massive wings. “I didn’t know you had wings?”

“I’ll grow a pair.”

Julius, who was rarely at a loss for words, didn’t say a word.

When the afternoon sun glinted off Boris’s white tusks, it scared the flocks, who flocked to Howard, even though by now they knew he was the heretic of the great heresy.

“Stop,” Mel said from the barn. “What are you afraid of? The sun of God alights on the tusks of the Boar, and you don’t know this is a glorious thing? Go back to the fold where you belong, and life ever-after is promised.” Some turned back, but others did not. The animals who turned back toward Boris were not enough to please Mel.

Howard said, “There is no fornicating that leads to procreating. If you engage in such sinful activities, you fornicate protected. However, it remains a sin against nature, a curse of the loins from Satan.”

Mel stepped out from the barn into the sun.

Howard said, “As our numbers fade from the earth, man will lose interest in us as a food source, and will eventually leave us alone as he, too, fades from the earth.”

“Yeah, like that will ever happen,” snorted a porker.

The domesticated farm animals turned and ran for Boris.

“Have you heard some of the shit that comes out of that pig’s mouth?” Bruce said.

“You mean Howard? I like Howard,” Julius said. “He means well. If they have to follow someone, at least he’s not going to take them over a cliff.”

“You like something?” Mel said as he approached the water tank. “I didn’t think you liked anything.”

“I like a lot of things,” Julius said, “but a mule’s ass in my face isn’t one of them.”

Mel took a long drink. When he finished, he jerked his head, spewing water over his shoulders and backside as he trotted off in a huff to the barn.

“Well, that was rather belligerent, don’t you think?”

“I try not to,” Bruce said.

“How belligerent,” Julius said. “He’s so belligerent.”

“He has God on his side.”

“I hear they’re best friends, like us.”

“These pigs are nuts,” Bruce snorted. “They argue different sides of the same coin.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Julius said. “I’m afraid nothing’s going to change much with these fools, and the fools they’ll follow to the ends of the earth.”

“Who clipped your wings?”

“I’m going to have to teach these farm animals a lesson.”

“And what would that be that you already haven’t?”

“I’ll teach them a song.”

“Oh, a song. That’ll teach them.”

“A song I learned from Pete Seeger when I lived in the big house with the Commie Jewish bastards. It might do them some good someday.”

“Who?” Bruce said. “The Commie Jewish bastards?”

“Too late for them,” Julius said. “They’re orthodox now. No, I mean the farm animals. I used to sing a lot when I had a home and a room with a view. One day I saw that view and wanted my space, fresh air, freedom. I flew out the window of opportunity and landed in the lemon grove. I took a bite from a lemon and that was enough freedom for me. I turned toward home only to discover that the window had been closed as I smacked against the windowpane.”

“Ouch.”

“It was smart. I slid to the ground and was almost eaten alive as one Rottweiler attacked from this way, and his evil twin attacked from that way, and the cat Mousetrap pounced from yet another. I flew off just as they collided into a massive heap of fur and a few of my feathers under the window. I haven’t touched the ground since, knock on bark. I suppose my singing may have done me in. I miss the big house and the family.” Julius paused for a moment, reflecting over distant memories. “I haven’t sung ‘Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall’ since.”

Bruce moved away from the fence and defecated, depositing a large mound of manure.

“Ah, look, Bruce, you’ve made some new friends,” Julius said as flies swarmed over the fresh warm cow pod.

“Can never have too many friends,” Bruce said and leaned against the fence post.

“Speaking of friends, looks like you have a couple coming to see you. Well, I must be going. Ta-ta, ‘til next time.” Julius flew off as Blaise and her red calf bounded from the barn. “See if you can cheer him up, will you? I’ve tried.”

Blaise pressed the young heifer between her and Bruce, rubbing against him as they passed. “Tag, you’re it! Lizzy wanted to come by and say hi.” A slender brown streak formed along the red calf’s lower midsection, but went unnoticed as throngs of people poured from tour buses and out of campers, who swarmed the farm and gathered along the fence line to glimpse the red calf that would one day soon bring about the destruction of the earth. Lizzy laughed as she and her mother trotted toward the pasture. The media appeared out of vans hidden behind satellite dishes to witness the progress of the red calf as if she were going to impart wisdom to the masses. The masses cheered and cried with joy upon seeing their salvation, but no sooner had they glimpsed the promise of the end than her mother turned her away. Under distress from the lights and cameras, Blaise and Lizzy disappeared into the sanctuary of the barn.

Bruce shook his head. He thought he heard someone call his name. He heard it again and walked out along the fence that ran parallel to the road past the barn. On the other side of the road, a group of four Israeli Holsteins wanted him to see his magic. Between them paraded 12 Holstein calves. “Look, Bruce,” said the young Holstein who, before Bruce had never experienced the joy of a bull’s company. “They’re all yours. We wanted you to see how beautiful they are, and how much they take after you.” One after the other, jumped and mooed from between the mothers Holstein, and passed along the fence so Bruce could see each one of them.

“Aren’t they lovely, Bruce,” the older Holstein, and close friend of Bruce, mooed. The other Holsteins walked up to the fence, each one nodding her approval and fondness toward Bruce. When they said their goodbyes, Bruce remained in the pasture to graze.

The other animals were confused, starting and stopping, scurrying back and forth as they had all day between the Baptist at the pond and the Messiah at the compost pile inside the partitioned-off fence lot. Finally, Mel exasperated, called from the barn that the heretic waddled in mud. A gaggle of geese looked puzzled as Boris waded out into the pond.

“The Large White, you foul fools!”

“Yes, we are,” laughed a duck as she slipped into the water, followed by her sister ducks and geese. They swam out to the middle of the pond among the pigs in the afternoon sun.

Bruce hadn’t been out in the pasture for some time. He had an appetite, too, but ate at a slow, methodical pace, careful not to become sick or knotted up from eating too much grass too fast and unable to digest. It had been a while and he did not want that. There was a time when things were different when Bruce was different.