Keith T. Bishop
Viral
Viral
Viral
Mid-Town; New York City; Thursday, November 1, 2012; 5:35 P.M.
“Jimmy, what the fuck is goin’ on in Amariller? Holy friggin’ shit, pigs gone wild? Not for nothin’, but what in the hell type of friggin’ town did you grow up in? It’s the twenty friggin’ first century, and you still have the Wild West there? And what is this shit about wild pigs destroyin’ a kennel and eatin’ a bunch of dogs a couple months ago? That’s friggin’ wicked wild. What kind of animals do you breed in Texas?”
Most of the time Mark spoke with the clipped, precise pronunciation of American newscaster English with only the faintest hint of the Boston “pahk-the-cah” non-rhotacisms. But when he was at play, and particularly when he was excited, he reverted to the dialect of the lower middle-class, triple-decker Southie from which he escaped only by the virtue of his brains and some hefty scholarships. Today, he was most definitely at play. Rarely did he have such an enticing opportunity to harass Jimmy and his obsessive pride of Texas. Mark would never allow such an opportunity to slide. His harangue was about as many words anyone had ever delivered to Jimmy without rebuttal, but he had caught his boss off-guard with his rapid-fire assault. Jimmy was trying to read the headlines on his monitor at the same time Mark’s verbal shots were being lobbed one after another about his hometown and state. Mocking Amarillo, or anywhere in Texas for that matter, was an act of war to Jimmy. Both knew some form of retribution would follow, sooner rather than later.
“Just slow down the ten-gallon mouth there, asshole,” Jimmy admonished Mark as he clicked on a link in the article and began watching a video. The story had gone viral. Numerous YouTube clips were circulating, depicting various scenes of the entire episode. Video captured the hogs in one backyard, knocking over a patio table and three chairs, then rooting in a flower bed prior to tipping over a grill. That was entertaining enough. A second video displayed two adult hogs galloping down a neighborhood street, darting, crisscrossing, and making their way from one YouTube moment to the next; all the while the piglet tried to keep up. That was downright hilarious. But wild boars in the middle of town? Then the pigs stopped for about ninety seconds to uproot potatoes in a small garden. All captured live! Another clip showed a number of kids chasing after the pigs as if they were trying to catch their runaway puppies. More video showed the pigs scurrying through the park, passing the playground and skateboard ramps. Watching police and Animal Control in futile pursuit brought more laughter and mocking of the officials. The looks on the faces of the Animal Control officers were priceless when the pigs ran straight into the lake and began swimming across.
Jimmy, Mark, and the handful of other traders who remained were hysterical. But the two videos that accounted for several million downloads in just hours were the brutal attack on the Animal Control officer and then the shooting of the three hogs. The men were engrossed and watched the epic episodes time and time again.
“Fucking hogs! Jesus Christ, those things are nasty! Look at the sinister-looking faces on those ugly-ass things! Are they always that vicious? Did you see how that thing clocked that guy? Knocked him right on his ass! Nobody on the Jets can hit that hard. Then the other one fucking gored him. Right in the fucking gut!”
“Hell yeah!” Jimmy bellowed to Steve and the other awestruck traders. With their type “A” personalities, it took a lot to impress this crew. But the hogs’ ferociousness certainly astounded them.
“Y’all know how many of those bastards I’ve killed?” Jimmy bragged. “Damn near a thousand, I’ll bet. Me and my brothers hunt those big-ass pricks all the time! They’re meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes. And we have more of ‘em in Texas than you can shake a stick at. They damn near have taken over the place. I tell ya what, not only are they mean, they’re fuckin’ smart too. Smart motherfuckers. I’m serious as the business end of a .45. They don’t surrender to anyone or anything except maybe mountain lions and wolves. Damn coyotes won’t even fuck with ‘em.”
Elliot was shocked. “Are you kidding me? Wild pigs? Are they just in Texas or what?”
“Elliot, you dumbass, haven’t you ever heard of Hogzilla?” Steve said trying to make up for his previous ignorance.
“They’re everywhere,” Jimmy assured him. “I’m headin’ down there for Thanksgiving, and you can rest assured, I’ll blast as many of those sons-abitches as possible. My twin brothers won’t be able to make it, but my little brother Carl will be there, and we’re gonna make up for lost time. I’m gonna get in three, four nights huntin’ pigs. It’s better than sex. And there’s no limit, so we can blow away as many as we have bullets for. And I never run out of bullets! It’s like fuckin’ a new chick every few minutes.”
“You can kill as many as you want?” asked Kevin.
“You betcha. Check this shit out!” Jimmy said as he clicked open a folder of photos on his computer. Quickly sorting through the pictures, Jimmy found the series he was looking for. Everyone crowded around his terminal to get a closer look.
“These are from last Christmas.” Jimmy pulled up about a dozen photos of himself and his brothers hog hunting. The first photo showed Jimmy and his brothers standing on a heap of about fifteen dead hogs.
“We Santa Anna-ed this mess of hogs and killed all but three of ‘em in about twenty seconds. They’re called pigs for a reason; we just left that pile to rot! Gave those damn buzzards their own form of slop!” claimed Jimmy as he skimmed through the pictures. Finding a close-up photo, he zoomed in on a pig’s head and snout to show off the animal’s hideous features.
“They’re disgusting!” commented Robert.
“Hell, I want to go!” Kevin declared. “Kill some fucking wild boars!”
Steve agreed, “Count me in. Hell yeah!”
“Come on. Bettah than sex?” Mark was skeptical. “Na-ah, I don’t think so.”
By the time the excitement peaked, Steve, Kevin, Mark, Elliot, and three others all wanted to hunt wild hogs. Hell, they were ready to leave right then. Jimmy, being Jimmy, egged on his cohorts, belittling them by telling them they weren’t man enough to hunt the beasts. ”Hell,” he told them, “You motherfuckers’ll pro’bly shit in your pants and scream like little girls the first time a boar comes at ya. I’d have to save your sissy asses. I’m gonna hunt, not play Boy Scout with a bunch of pansy-ass pissants.”
The lively boasting of who was going to kill the first, the largest, and the most pigs continued. Jimmy had some decisions to make.
Jimmy loved a crowd, but he believed hunting with more than four people was inherently dangerous, and his brother was going to be there as well. Besides, markets never sleep. The meat of the office couldn’t all be gone at the same time. Like everything Jimmy did, the final decision about who would go would be determined by reason. His reasons. Mark was Jimmy’s best friend and, like himself, highly accomplished in most everything he did, including hunting. And considering that in his mind he had already chosen Steve, a complete novice at hunting, Jimmy knew he needed Mark to mentor Steve so he himself could focus on killing the first, the largest, and the most number of boars. Therefore, without question, Mark and Steve were in. Jimmy chose Steve because of his recent run of success trading energy products. He had earned large profits in both the oil and natural gas markets in the last month. Jimmy deemed these as two of the most lucrative markets going forward and wanted to reward Steve and encourage him to produce even more, to rival Mark.
On the other hand, Elliot didn’t have the sense God gave a goose. He hadn’t even heard of wild pigs and probably had never slept in a tent before. So he was out. Kevin was the final selection. While not an expert by any means, Kevin claimed to be a competent hunter who could fend for himself. Besides, he would wipe Jimmy’s ass if asked to. Kevin was a preeminent gofer without being labeled as one. Jimmy liked that. But, more importantly, Jimmy wanted to evaluate Kevin outside the office. Kevin just wasn’t making it, and Jimmy wanted to verify if it was time to cut bait with him or not. And there was nothing better than being in the thickets hunting wild boar to judge someone’s intestinal fortitude.
The entourage consisted of five eager hunters, including Carl and himself. While not ideal, and by no means comparable to hunting with his three brothers, Jimmy considered it workable. It was set, the faction served a purpose. The group would fly out of New York early the Friday evening prior to Thanksgiving week. They would hunt Saturday, Sunday, and Monday before the gang flew back on Tuesday morning. Jimmy would remain in Amarillo to celebrate Thanksgiving with his father, Carl, and a host of friends and relatives. The rest of the office staff would have to settle for the frozen pork Jimmy promised to ship them after the holidays.