Best Missed Anniversary Excuse

Windmills at R & A’s Farm

As I was headed home I heard the sound of a siren. Flashing blues in my rear view mirror. What?!? I wasn’t speeding. Not this time. I pull over and the officer parked his car behind me.

After taking his time to check me out he came forward with his hand on his belt. “Do you know why I stopped you, sir?” he asked me.

Uh, no, Officer.” I replied, “I don’t think I was speeding.

No, sir, you weren’t speeding. But there is fluid coming out of the back of your car.

Oh, ah, can I get out and take a look?” I asked.

Please do. Keep your hands in sight at all times.

I got out of the car and walked back. Yes indeed, there was something coming out of the trunk. “I guess the ice has melted.” I said.

The ice?” he prodded.

Yes, the ice I was using to keep him cold with.

Him?” he asked rather pointed?

Uh, yes, I mean the body.” I stumbled.

You have a dead body in there?” the officer demanded.

Yes, and I think the ice must be melting.” I said absently “That’s probably what caused the fluid trailing on the road out of the trunk.

You mean to tell me you admit you froze the body?” he asked incredulously.

Well, uhm, yes, but it’s not like it sounds.” I answered realizing this wasn’t sounding very good.

And what are you going to do with him?

Eat him, of course.

You were going to eat him!?!

Well, yes, we were going to have a pig roast.

The police officer roughly pushed me up against the car and cuffed me. I tried to get him to open the trunk to see it really was just a pig, you know, sus scrufa, but he said we had to wait for the detectives. Meanwhile he took me down to the station, booked me and gave me my one phone call.

And that, Honey, is why I can’t make it home tonight, the eve of our anniversary. Honest, I tried to get the roaster back in time but pig is still sitting in a space blanket packed on ice in the trunk. Could you please go pick it up on I-91 south just before Exit-7 and then come post bail for me?

Outdoors: 73°F/60°F Sunny
Tiny Cottage: 70°F/63°F

Daily Spark: There is no admissible relationship between fiction and reality.

About Walter Jeffries

Tinker, Tailor...
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11 Responses to Best Missed Anniversary Excuse

  1. Jessie says:

    What a great story! I’ll add one from my boyfriend’s uncle in Argentina. One night he walked down the street to buy fish from the lady who sells it out of her house. He knocked on her door and heard her say, “I’m coming!” Ten minutes later he was still waiting, so he knocked again, and got the same response “I’m coming”. Eventually, he went to the neighbor’s house, explained what was happening and asked if everything was all right. To which the neighbor replied, “Oh, she’s not home right now, that must be the parrot.”

  2. Good one, Jessie. The origin of this story is entirely fiction. I was wondering what the scenario might be if one were were stopped with a dead pig in the trunk… This lead to my saying it over dinner and it got a three spew rating.

  3. Michaele says:

    You both are hilarious. Walter – you really had me going. There isn’t a lot I would put past you.

  4. Jessie says:

    HAHA you got me! Jessie

  5. Susan Lea says:

    Too funny! I’m glad you offered the information that it was fiction. I was afraid to ask & look gullible! :)

  6. Jennifer says:

    Three spews, huh? Congrats! Family can be a tough audience. And you had me going for a moment, too – except there didn’t seem to be a van involved.

  7. Scrapple says:

    Hi Walter, I have a question unrelated to the above post. In a comment from an old post on your site (I think from ’09) you mentioned that you rotate the pigs every 3 days to a week, trying not to go over two weeks. I was curious about the process you use to move them? I’ve seen cows rotated and typically the fresh grass and quick cow-call is all that’s needed to get ’em moving. However, I’ve never seen pigs rotated and most pastured pork producers that we’ve encountered only rotate the pigs once every month or two. We’ve heard that it can be quite a chore.

    I X-ray searched your blog on Google using various word combinations to find a post where you may have written about this in the past and couldn’t come up with anything. If you have posted about it previously, my apologies for asking again, I’d be happy with a link response! You’re a fantastic resource for aspiring farmers like ourselves!

    • It is very, very easy to move pigs. Don’t chase them, instead herd them or lead them – just like with other animals. As with chickens, ducks, geese, cattle and sheep you can train them. They come when we call because they expect food. Additionally we have livestock guarding and herding dogs. Figure one good dog is worth five of the best herdsmen at herding. On top of that, it really isn’t a big rush. Just open the next section, the livestock will move into it, then in a couple of hours or day close the gate. They’re moved. That alone works almost every time. For posts about dogs see the tag cloud in the right column.

  8. Aye, just to be clear, this was creative writing, a.k.a., fiction. We do get a lot of spews at our dinner table. Most are caused by me reading out loud between the lines on some news story. The truth can be dangerous if your sitting across the table from someone drinking a glass of milk at that moment. :) Sometimes a most innocuous comment can get twisted in a new light and cause explosive, involuntary projectile fluid laughter. Messy.

  9. David Lloyd Sutton says:

    Wrote this some years back to illustrate how NOT to do technical writing, but Walter, You have it coming!!


    The dish is complex; muscle and adipose tissue of a domesticated omnivore, first cured in an elaborate blending of mineral desiccants and then subjected to heat-accelerated saponification, the heat induced by the controlled oxidation of precise botanicals (themselves previously subjected to painstaking aging), then immersed, under gravity- assisted pressure, in a slow bath of heated lipids. The brittle result is layered with sliced fruit of a particular degree of turgor and ripeness, the chilled leaves of an exquisitely hybridized & nurtured ground plant, sauced with a concoction derived from plant lipids, the extract of an exotic cane, and the nuclei of the ova of a domestic avian, then layered between segments of a material arrived at by abrading and pulverizing the seeds of a hybridized monocot, subjecting the result to partial and inefficient consumption by a low life form that is not quite a plant, and exactly controlling the thermal environment of the resultant gaseous paste.

    You know it. Everyone has eaten a B.L.T. !!

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