Flash Fiction: “The Pig”

The Pig

Butcher Fry chased the pig through the dank sewer throat, his cleaver raised above his bald head and knifing through the moldy drips of air.

As the pig’s splashing, snorting body glistened past the sulky beams of light, Fry cursed to himself, thinking pigs were smart and quick.

He kept up while the pig galloped through dark waste water, splashing. Fry breathed a mist of coppery bricks. It dampened the cocaine globs in his mustache.

Dead end.

“But, but,” said the pig, cheeks blubbering, helpless (he’d lost his firearm in the wrestling), “It was only a routine traffic stop!”


For more practicallyserious flash fiction, check out this story!

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4 Responses to Flash Fiction: “The Pig”

  1. EmmaMc says:

    Oo the imagery in this is really sinister! Good job… am I right on thinking that Fry was hallucinating? This is from the ‘cocaine globs’

    • Bill Carson says:

      thanks! that’s an interesting way to look at it, though I didn’t originally intend that he was hallucinating. Just coke-raging after an out-of-shape cop!

  2. I did get the cop! But not until I sat back and let it sink in. And the dank sewer throat was awesome!


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