Beware the Pig Man

This submission is really meant to more of a warning than a story. It is all true, and my therapist said writing it down would be good for me.

It was September of 1998. I had just moved into an oversized, under-kept apartment on Jubilee. It was cheap, and since I had no job it was the right price for me. I moved in with a couple of roomies and my poodle. I also moved in with a few fake wooden cacti, that adorned the front of the building at the Jubille overpass for a number of years (until I finished school and got the hell outta there!).

I had sent my poodle outside on her leash, and gone back up the stairs to my apartment. No sooner was I up the stairs than I heard my dog barking, and a horrible screaming sound. Kinda like a pig being burned alive in the fire.

I ran down the stairs, afraid that some real dog had gotten ahold of my poodle.
When I burst out the door and into the yard, I saw the poodle straining at her leash, and a man backed up against the side of the house too scared to move. I called my dog to me, and apologizied to the poor man. The man ran off without looking at me, grabbed his rake, jumped on his old 10 speed, and took off down the back lane.

If the events of this story could just have stopped here, that would have been great. If the man had just run away and left, no problems. I could have gone on with my life. But no. The man had to turn around as he left.

He looked over his shoulder, and looked at me with his beady black pig eyes, and it was then that I took in all his features.

He had a pushed up nose, sharp white teeth, and ears that point ever so slightly. He prefers to wear old blue button up shirts, and kaki shorts, with penny loafers. Which look like hooves.

Shuddering, I went inside. Vowing to be a better dog owner and more careful of the freaks of Fort Gary.

A few days later I came home with my dog, walked up the stairs. I went into the kitchen, and there was Pig-Man crouching down on the floor, rooting under the sink.

I lost it. I should have run at him, or yelled at him, but instead I ran into the living room to ask my roomies who was in the kitchen, and why?

I was so scared that this man was in my house. Both my roomies thought my tears and whimpering were funny, and they mocked me, and told me they thought I was making things up. There was a man in our kitchen! How could I be making it up?

When I went back to the kitchen on my own, ready to do some damage or throw something at him, he was gone. The kitchen cupboards were open under the sink. Nothing appeared to be taken. The side door was open.

After this, I went down to the shelter and got a bigger dog. And pig man never came around my house again.

-thanks to kevin for the submission