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It had been ten days since I moved to Montana. The open countryside was a perfect place to live for a man like me, but little did I know that it was also the dwelling place for those strange noises.
I was out for my morning bike-ride when a farm could be seen in the distance–which was the only thing that could be seen for miles, other than the fields and the road before me, giving even the slightest glimmer of civilization. It was very peaceful and nothing could be heard. My riding abruptly came to a halt when I was utterly startled by the most abhorrent shrieking ever to have plundered through my ears. The squeals came from far in the distance–somewhere near the barn–but the sound waves were like a claw which repeatedly scraped at my ear-drums.
In a few moments the squealing soon died off. I was stopped in the middle of the street for quite some time–much longer than I intended–before finally deciding to go home. My world was silent once again, and I thought nothing of the shrieking for the remainder of the week.
A few days later was when I found myself on another bike-ride. I lived alone and this was one of the only ways for me to get exercise (along with avoiding boredom). The farm started to fade into view and I was quickly reminded of the squealing. I told myself how comedic it might be if the noises were to coincidentally return.
And then they did return, but I was the furthest thing from humored. I was kind of scared. The shrieks hammered through the breeze and almost knocked to the ground as if it was expecting my arrival. I regained my balance and looked in the direction of the farm-owner’s house (if there was a farm-owner), but saw nothing. When the noises died I went back home.
That night, as I literally felt compelled to ride by the farm, I figured I must have gone crazy. But…my early retirement game me time to do pretty much nothing and that was about all there was to do out there. So I figured, Why not?
I rode by the farm the very next morning and much anticipated the coming of the noises.
They came. Right on time, too. I wasn’t thrown from my bike. The noises died away after a few seconds. I was beginning to think that this was happening every single morning, which, if that were the case, baffled me. Then another thing gave me some chills. Something I just now realized. Never did I see any cattle grazing the fields before me, and never did I smell any, well...manure. Where do the sounds come from?, I wondered. There had to be a source.
Being the unusually curious man that I am, I rode through the fields and started toward the farmhouse. When I reached the doorstep I knocked twice. There was no answer. So I tried the knob and found that it was unlocked. When I stepped inside there was mostly darkness. The only light that could be seen was a dim illumination down the hallway to my right.
“Hello?!” I shouted, “Is there anybody here? Hello?”
Still there was no answer. I slowly crept my way toward the light, which was coming from an arch on my closest left. There was a brief trotting noise and I was startled for a moment when a little piglet scampered from the adjacent room, across the hallway, and under the arch. I followed it and found that the source of the light was a dimly lit kitchen. A man was at the sink, his back facing me. He looked like he was washing something.
The piglet ran to the man and caused him to turn around, but that was not what made him jump.
“Oh, geez,” he said calmly when he saw me standing the arch.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to scare you! I mean no harm.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, son. You’re the only person I seen since…well, ‘bout three years ago, I reckon.” He bent over to pig up the piglet and cradled it in his arms.
“Three years, sir?”
“That’s right, three years.” He definitely looked like somebody who hadn’t seen anyone for three years. He also looked like he hadn’t showered, brushed his teeth, or combed his hair for three years. He hardly had any teeth and his skin was rotted. It was obvious he wore the same clothes every day.
I was embarrassed when I realized I had been staring for almost a minute. I spoke quickly: “I didn’t mean to trespass, and I don’t mean to pry, but…well, I just moved here and I frequently ride by this place with my bike. It’s very nice, but I can’t help but mention that every time I ride by there are some very unsettling noises that seem to be coming from the barn.”
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry ‘bout that.”
“Can you tell me what it is?”
“Yea. They get awful scared out here sometimes, all by themselves, and sometimes they can’t help but let me know how they feel.” His words were shaky and hard to believe. But I didn’t press for details. Then he added, “I love those pigs, though. They are my pride and glory. There’s just somethin’ different about them. I feel one with them. I know it’s crazy, but I can’t escape the inevitable.”
He looked down at the piglet in his arms and spoke to it, “I mean look at how cute you are! I could just eat you up!”
It was time for me to leave, but not before I asked one more question. “How did you get such a nice farm?”
He looked up at me with no emotion. I was unsure if I had offended him or not.
“Inheritance,” he said.
“Well, I better get going.”
“Wait!” He set down the piglet and turned toward the sink. He turned around with a glass in his hand. It contained a dark red liquid.
“I gotst me here the best smoothie you will ever see!” He took a sip, and then held it out to me. “Wanna try it?”
First off, I didn’t know what in the hell it was, and second, I definitely wasn’t drinking after this guy.
“Uh…” I said, “No thank you. I have already eaten.”
“Are you sure? It’s full of protein. And…well, it’s the only way I can get my nutrients, considerin’ I got no teeth.” He smiled really big to show me his gums.
“Yes, I can see,” I replied. “But I really have to go now.” I could think of no excuse for leaving, I just did. I turned around and rode away as fast as I could. I think I heard him gulping down his smoothie before I left. That guy had creeped me out.
I felt so foolish the next day because I wanted to go back. I know, it sounds crazy, but it would be for the right reasons. I wanted to see for myself the truth behind the deranged noises. I hadn’t gotten a good enough answer and that was partly my fault. It was two days till I returned to the farm.
I saw the house and the barn come into view earlier than previous times I had ridden by. I waited for ten minutes but heard no shrieks. Although, I did see a faint image of a man crossing from the barn to the house. It looked like he was holding something, but I couldn’t be certain. After he disappeared behind the front door, I flew across the field toward the barn. I positioned my bike in a way that it would be easy to grab if I needed to get out of there quickly.
The barn door was left ajar. I thought maybe he was coming back. I needed to be quick. I shimmied through the barn door and was not shocked at what was inside.
The amount of pigs was the shocking thing. There were dozens of them, more than I had ever seen in one grouping. They infested the corners and concealed the ground. I would not be able to walk across the barn without bumping into at least ten of them. But these pigs did not make any squealing noises.
I looked in the nearest corner and saw a grouping of cages. Each of them was filled with an individual piglet.
I fled from the barn and capered to the backside of the house. Something was not right. When I was in the backyard there was a window on the back wall which allowed a small view of the kitchen. I got close enough to see the smoothie-man at the counter with an oversized blender in front of him. It was big enough to fit…a piglet. And so it did.
A wee little piglet was stuffed inside the blender and the smoothie-man fastened the lid tight. It squirmed as much as it could and made the same shrieks I kept hearing for the past week. It was even louder now that I was up close, and it almost made me go deaf.
The smoothie-man pressed a button on the blender and I watched in horror as the piglet was instantly shredded into a red gooey substance.
He then unfastened the lid and used both hands to pour the liquidated animal into a large glass next to him. It was not soon after the rim of the glass met his lips that his smoothie was safe in his stomach. In that moment I was reminded of some of the things he had said to me a couple days before. “I love those pigs, though…I feel one with them…I mean look at you! I could just eat you up!” Now I understood every word he said.
I ran as fast as my legs would allow and rode my bike away from the farm. I didn’t turn back but heard a familiar voice call out to me: “Are you sure you don’t want a smoothie?!”
He was not going to get the pleasure of seeing my face again. I rode away and looked for the nearest police-station. I don’t what it was or why I was so drawn to the farm of pigs, but I personally feel I was supposed to move to Montana and that God wanted me to put a stop to the demolishing of his creation. It did not take long for me to find a police-station, and from there I ended the reign of The Blenderer of Pigs.