Marvin and the Pitiful Pig

This latest is from our Down East Correspondent Shadrach Spencer

Last January it was colder than, well never mind, you know where I mean; as I was sayin’ it was so cold that the engine block on Marvin’s old Chevy wagon froze solid. That the snow was so deep that Marvin couldn’t find the Chevy, but one of them humps in the yard was the Chevy, and the other must be his Doodlebug Tractor.

Marvin had about enough of the cold as he could stand, besides, he weren’t plantin’ anythin’ ‘till the ground began to thaw somewhere around March, so he decided to go visit his brother Ira, down in Brazos Country in Texas. Screwin’ up his courage, Marvin packed hisself about a dozen peanut butter sandwidges for the trip and climbed on the Amtrak train in Bangor headin’ for Boston.

Debarkin’ in Boston, Marvin hopped on the MBTA and headed to Logan Airport and got his air ticket to Houston. He had to wait about three hours in the airport. When he got on the plane he only had three peanut butter sandwidges left, but them airline people were real cheap and wanted seven dollah’s for a beer. Why, back home he could have got a six pack of Maine Beer Company’s Peeper Ale for about six bucks. If you add it up that’s only a dollah a bottle, not a whole seven dollah’s a bottle

Marvin’s brother Ira picked him up at the Hobby Airport and headed out to Brazos County. Ira had a small ranch near Wixon Valley. The weathah was real nice, even though Ira was complainin’ that it was a little chilly bein’ around 60 degrees. The other thing Ira was complainin’ about was them damn wild hogs. They wuz everywhere and a-tearin’ up everythin’. In the old days Marvin and Ira was about the huntin’est brothers in Penobscot County back home, and it didn’t take ‘em long to plan on a hunt.

“What you gotta do,” said Ira, “is set some traps with sour corn, or somethin’ they can smell a mile away, and they’ll come to you; but you gotta be careful because the damn things will come after you if you give them half a chance.”

It didn’t take long before two young feral hogs came a-runnin’ into the trap, and while they wuz a chowin’ down on the slop Ira sprung the trap. Marvin and Ira come out from behind the tree where they been hidin’ and Ira took out his Winchester 94 and shot one of them two of them wild hogs right in the head.

“That one is mine, Marvin,” said Ira, passin’ the gun to Marvin, “T’other one is yours.”

Marvin took the rifle and looked over the side of the trap. Now, them hogs is real smart, and the second hog, seein’ what had happened to the first, hunkered down and covered it head with its front feet.

Marvin shook his head and said, “Aw, that poor pitiful pig, how could a man have the heart to shoot a hog as smart as that?”

“Later that spring,” reported Shadrach Spencer, “Marvin invited me over to dinner so as he could tell me the story of his trip to Texas; seein’ how it was a great adventure. Now that smoked ham Marvin served up for dinner that night was real fine. I don’t know when I had ham as fine as that. I said to Marvin, “Marvin, just you tell me, where did you get a ham as fine as that?”

Marvin looked me in the eye and said, “Now, Shadrach, just you never mind.”