Of Volunteer Work and Giant Pigs

Nothing is more rewarding than giving back to the community, is it? And to whom much is given, much is expected.

As a man of singular gifts, it behooved me to seek out a volunteer opportunity worthy of my talents... something a lesser man simply wouldn't dare to undertake.

There is a menace stalking America as dire as any Redcoat who ever burned the White House in 1812, as any Mexican who attacked the Alamo, or as any Commie who ever lurked under good American beds in the 50's.

I refer, of course, to the giant feral hogs currently rooting their way through the Deep South.

So when I heard of the Giant Feral Boar terrorizing the good people of Choctaw Flats, GA, and the terrors wreaked upon dear old Mrs. Clatterbuck's prize turnip patch, I knew I'd found my opportunity to serve my fellow man. Even if I don't like the way Southerners vote. Maybe some Yankee beneficence would bring them around and show them we're not all a bunch of carpetbaggers.

As you can see from this photograph, giant feral hogs are no laughing matter.

*

Immediately, I winged my way south on my luxurious G-4, and began my hunt for the beast, which the Minions, after due consideration, renamed Beel Z. Bubba. The locals had originally named him Mr. Pigglesby, but there was no way I could bring myself to kill something called "Mr. Pigglesby."

The hunt began.



Notice how I crouched, pantherlike, like a coiled spring of violence and vengeance, at the mouth of the beast's lair, when I'd finally tracked it to its foul digs. 

Beel Z. Bubba's eventual emergence from his cave from its cave gave me occasion to reflect on John Lennon's words: "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." The giant feral hog of Choctaw Flats, GA, turned out, like so many things in life, not to be precisely what was expected. 

I left left the town of Choctaw Flats and Mrs. Clatterbuck's turnip patch safer and happier places. Volunteering feels good. Winging my way home aboard my luxurious private G4 with a stack of "Maxim" back issues, a bottle of chilled vodka, a fine Cuban Cohiba, and Intrepid Stella A.'s newest pet cuddling next to me, I reflected on the wisdom of Franklin D. Roosevelt's adage: "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."

*There may well be some scoffers out there who claim this looks like one of the enteledonts from the BBC series "Walking With Prehistoric Beasts." To such skepticism, I can only say that haters gonna hate.