I BENT DOWN AND QUIETLY THANKED THE PIG. It's not easy to eat a creature who has (willingly or unwillingly--who's to know?) given its life for you, when you are looking it in the (admittedly fake) eye. But, oh, that pork was yummy.
I know this guy who annually invites his vast array of friends to come and share the eating of a roasted pig; he serves it up with plenty of drinks. There's a long table full of dishes his friends have carried in, as well.
Since Gerry's been generously hosting this roasted swine party for twenty-eight years now, most of his friends (of which I'm one, as you may have astutely guessed) are familiar with the protocol. Come early enough, you can play volleyball, watch the pig being carved (you get to sample some of the choicest bits) and look over the
display of historical limited-edition t-shirts (he gets a new one designed each year featuring some sort of clever piggy pun and likeness--this year's "King of Slop" was wearing one glove).
Of course, when the main event gets underway, there is a serious line at the food tables.
And a lot of eating, drinking and conversing going on. It's a once-a-year porcine delight.
(Dear reader, you may wish to spark up a friendship with Gerry...
...in which case, I'll keep my eye out for you a year from now when Gerry and friends are eating his 29th pig.)