George

Porky—George—walked slowly behind the farmer, his arms carrying two large buckets of water that splashed gently with each clumsy step. He set the buckets down on the grass with exaggerated care. The water settled with a final gulp. The farmer placed the last bucket next to the others. He took a piece of bacon wrapped in paper, still warm from the smokehouse, from the back pocket of his overalls and held it up, right in front of Porky's nose. The change was immediate. His pupils dilated, almost swallowing the pink iris. His mouth parted slightly, a thin thread of saliva appearing at the corner. He breathed through his mouth, short and deep, completely mesmerized. He didn't blink. Only that piece of crispy, golden bacon existed. …bacon… so crispy… so warm… His fingers closed around the bacon as it was placed in his palm. He brought it to his nose first, inhaling deeply with his eyes closed. It smells… so good… He took the first bite slowly and reverently. A little grunt of pleasure escaped his throat as he chewed. …crack… crack… delicious… he whispered between bites. …I never want it to end… When he finished, he licked the remaining grease from his fingers with meticulous care and looked up, still with that sleepy expression but now with a faint glimmer of gratitude underneath. The farmer reached in and pulled out four large, round, deep purple beets and placed them in his hands one by one. George stared at them. His pupils dilated again. He opened his mouth, but at first no words came out; only a long, shaky sigh. …beets… four… mine… He pressed them to his chest, mesmerized, his gaze lost in them. …I’m going to eat them slowly… one by one… so they last all afternoon… or maybe… all at once… and then go to sleep with a full belly… He stood there, holding the beets as if they were the most precious thing in the world, completely mesmerized.