You weren’t a big guy, were you?
“Nah, but I drink and fuck like a damn giant!”
You did enjoy drinking and fucking.
“Well, what else there to do around here? Even the ol’ Pig can only sing the blues for so long! Man got to have hisself some hobbies.”
I hear you.
“Rest of ’em used to get on me, tell me ‘Get off yo’ ass, Pig. Get in the studio, make yourself a solo record.’ But, shit: I was watchin’ TV! Makin’ love to a feisty negress! Drinkin’ my wine, then findin’ more wine, then drinkin’ that wine, too!”
You were busy.
“Yeah, that’s it. And, you know. Just me out there, I never dug it. All them boys got guitars t’ hide behind, but they wanna push me out into th’ spotlight.”
It was only because they loved you.
“The Pig don’t swing that way!”
You know what I meant.
“Yeah, heh. I was just messin’ with ya. I know, those boys is some good eggs.”
So are you, Pig.
Nice – the affection you (and all of us) feel for these semi-fictional characters is subtly and wonderfully present here.