Hey, Pig. Whatcha doing?
“Bein’ a role model to man and beast alike!”
That dog seems to like you.
“He ain’t lovin’ the Pig! He lovin’ the ham!”
“I got me a samwich!”
Oh. Camera’s behind you.
“Which is why I done explained the situation! You thick as Boston molasses! Now: tell the Pig what’s goin’ on out there.”
You don’t want to know. Also: you’re in, what, 1967? There is quite literally no point of reference.
Weird, more like.
CELL PHONE NOISE
CELL PHONE NOISE
“What the hell is that racket!?”
Check your pocket.
“What the hell is this contraption!?”
What does it look like?
“I got no frame of reference!”
Uh-huh. Just swipe the button.
“It’s very intuitive!”
“You got the Pig on the line!”
“Please hold for Taylor Swift.”
Oh, COME ON.
“Is this the Pigpen? Oh my God, I am SUCH a huge fan of yours, and your music, and your unreleased solo albums. Would you like to date?”
“All right, listen to me, you filthy urchin: my team has crunched the numbers and for some ungodly reason, being seen with you in public is the only thing that will shore up the breaches. I’M FUCKING DYING HERE. And you’re gonna help me, or it’s gonna be bad for you, you got that?”
“Taylor FUCKING Swift, you cocksucker! I am motherfucking WHITE GIRL JESUS and I have told you to JUMP, you shitty little mutant, and now you are gonna ask me, ‘HOW FUCKING HIGH UP YOUR ASS, Ms. Swift?’ and I will not have your family MURDERED BY HYENAS in front of you!”
“Well, whaddya look like?”
“Hold on. Sending a pic.”
“Well, ain’t that magic.”
“Heh. Yeah, no. Sorry, little girl: you are the opposite of my type! It ain’t gonna work!”
“WHAT? YOU CUMSTAINED PILE OF AIDS-SHIT! I’M GONNA–”
DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANYMORE
“I’m gonna chuck this gadget down the sewer and go get drunk!”
That’s the best decision anyone’s made today.
“They don’t call me the Pig for nothin’.”