To my acquaintance, on a new home in a city apartment, a friend-in-law gave a pig with the words: "Finally, I put you a pig." The pig was not from a decorative little pig, but from a normal village pig.

The pig started living on the balcony. He lived there for three months, bringing the surrounding (and neighbors) crazy with whirlwinds. According to a friend, he didn't know that pigs can make SO horrible and loud sounds, in addition, 24/7, without touching.

In any case, after three months it became clear that the pig is growing and will not stop on the achieved. It was decided to cut it and roast it.

His acquaintance had never cut cattle in his life, and he had no friends who could do it. The pig was sorry. Although cattle in all respects, and yet three months, side by side, lived.

When a friend went to the balcony, his family looked at him as captured partisans looked at the fascists leading to the shooting of their comrades.

He went in. The pig was found in the corner. He was like hiding. But his ass did not allow him to fit in the closet on the shelf. When a friend in complete silence pulled the pig out, he looked at him with a reasonable sad look. For what reason, boy?? to

The pig was not cut that day. A non-smoking friend smoked a pack in three hours. I called a friend.

A friend came the next day, took a pig and left. After a while, I came back with meat. He baked meat because his wife refused, and he ate during the dinner.

The children were crying, swallowing tears and salad. The wife was silent. A familiar drinker.

At the end of the day, he admitted that he had divorced everyone. And the live pig runs in the village, and the meat he bought in the store.