“LIVE. OH PLEASE LIVE. YOU WERE ALWAYS LIKE A FATHER TO ME. YOU HAD SO MUCH MORE CARBON DIOXIDE TO CONVERT INTO OXYGEN…” The pig ate the cactus. “OH GOD, WHY??? THE PAIN IS BEGINNING TO OVERWHELM ME. IT HAS TAKEN OVER MY BODY, FORCING EVERY LAST PIECE INTO THE DEPTHS OF HELL.”

As you can tell, Samantha was your average vegan, overly cautious about the environment. Her pig, Mr. Wiggletums was her only friend, who lived with her just 2000 miles south of any form of civilization. One day, when she was about to head down to the grocery store, her tractor broke down. This meant that she was completely and utterly screwed, because she had no electronics. Not even a landline. Her only friend was Mr. Wiggletums.

She had dealt with this in the past, so she just drank water from the well, and ate salad from the garden. Her serving portions were reduced (she had to feed Mr. Wiggletums), so within a month, she was out of food. There was only one thing she could do so she wouldn’t starve to death.

The words rang in her head like those that do when you experience a tragic event.

Eat Mr. Wiggletums.
Eat Mr. Wiggletums.
Eat Mr. Wiggletums.
Eat Mr. Wiggletums.

She reluctantly got up and picked up a pot, walked over to Mr. Wiggletums, and smacked him upside the head with the pot. He squealed, but she just kept hitting, her blows increasing in magnitude with every whack.

It was at that exact moment that she heard a voice in her head. “Become who you were born to be.” And then, with all her might, she gave the pig one final blow to the face, thus ending a long, meaningful relationship with the only friend of whom she actually gave a crap (or had…).

She then went inside and grabbed the only knife she had. The one her father gave her for her first birthday… A genuine, Italian made VeggieKnife 2.0 (veggie knife is a trademark of weird-ass crap industries. Any use of it or it’s logo will cost you a weird-ass crap-ton of money).

She grabbed her VeggieKnife 2.0 (trademark), headed to the backyard, and without thinking, cut out three perfect strips from Mr. Wiggletums tummy. She fired up the stove (fire powered, of course) and put down the tummy strips, cooking them until they looked a lot like this:

She picked it up and inspected it, sizzling in the late afternoon sun. She shoved it in her mouth, expecting a terrible taste, but what she got was unlike that in every way possible.

Samantha realized that this was the best thing she had tried in her life. Explosions covered her mouth, but not bad explosions. Explosions of happiness, love and most of all, life. It came to her that the death of Mr. Wiggletums was not in vein. She loved her pig even more.