Author Topic: Proof of life

sam

Proof of life
« on: October 23, 2020 »
Pigs. That's what they sounded like, though as far as I'm aware, there are no such domestic ungulates in these parts. Maybe wild boar (really). Or something else.


The oddly eerie grunting in the fields beyond the skeletal hedgerow set the hairs on the back of my neck on end as I walked to the village at 1.00 am, killing time before the debate.

Watching Biden and Trump would be the true temporal crime: 90 minutes of extreme violence to the brain cells. It’s a ritual of self-abuse, more foreplay for la grande mort early next month. Can't in good conscience vote for either, or for much of anybody (ugh), in that country or this one.

The village was quiet, as you might expect. I went as far as Chaplin’s, pining for the days when I could get a regular shearing. On the way back down the high street I passed a few feet from somebody's head. No, they weren't a fresh victim of a werepig; they were watching TV in their cozy sitting room.

I go out fairly often on a bike, but seldom get close to people. Thanks to a recently diagnosed blood condition, I'm susceptible to infections, so…


Fridays rides are not an option, even if I could squeeze into one of them.

There aren't many folks outside my little bubble that I get near enough to chat with. Ocado and Sainsbury’s drivers. Bloodsucking nurses. I had my chance when a BBC salesman stopped by recently, but alas it's best not to give them the time of day.

My annual visit to Ohio



is of course not going to happen. It's a shame, because I was hoping to be there to commiserate with my family whatever the outcome.

On the walk home the werepigs started shadowing me again. The accoustics of the weald played spooky tricks in the darkness, the grunting at one point seeming to come from the vicinity of a house where I now suspected they change back to human form. Nearby sheep, looking like apparitions themselves, kept mum on the subject.

I made it to my front door unmolested by porcine gnashers, and watched the debate. It was forgettable. I got some sleep, then went looking for pigs. They were nowhere to be seen. Q.E.D.