I watch the farm through my binoculars. It is the crack of dawn and things should start at any moment.
I hear squeals and lines of porkers emerge. They stream towards the farmer’s house. I admit it. I did unlock the gate. I also unlocked the doors to the farmer’s house.
The pigs stop squealing and one by one they slip into the house. I hear muffled screams and thumps.
The farmer runs out of the door. He is met by a wall of pigs. He tries to step over them but they headbutt him back.
They move as a group toward the pond. I can hardly control myself. I feel like laughing out loud.
The farmer and swarm of pigs reach a tall wooden platform.
I hear the farmer pleading. “No, I’m afraid of heights. Please no.”
The pigs are relentless. I hear loud grunting and I see the pigs shoving and pushing the man up the steps.
The platform is slanted. The farmer edges out onto the platform. The squealing and grunting reaches fever pitch.
The farmer begins to scream like a child. He slides off the platform into the water.
I hear the smack of a belly flop and wince.
I bet that hurt.
The farmer swims to shore where he is greeted by a wall of pigs. They stare at him with blank expressions.
“What?” the farmer said. “I did it. Are you happy now?”
Squeals and grunts fill the air. They began to herd the farmer to the steps.
I watched as the farmer dove, over and over. It only stopped when the park opened at nine am.
Families and children stood in amazement as hordes of pigs made the farmer jump off the platform.
At the end of the day the farmer took down his diving platform.
Pigs don’t dive any more on that farm.