Have you been wondering recently about the delays in the production of our beloved newspaper? I have solved this problem. Before a recent revelation, I, much like you assume, chalked up the Surreal Times’ tardiness to the antics and indifference of the Pig. We the paper and its readers rely on him to produce only 5 words every bihex, yet consistently he demands more time. At times, in bouts of rage, I demanded that our leadership fire our friend the Pig. Don’t get me wrong, the Pig is still a lazy swine, but he has fallen on hard times as of late.
Tucked in a small, damp noodle shop in the Ba Dinh district of Vietnam’s capital city, Hanoi, is the Mouth of the Pig. It sits in a bowl with other pigs’ mouths, at the front of a plastic display case for those passing by to view. Next to it, is the bowl of cow tongues. A small woman of about 50 years stands behind the case with a greasy, razor-sharp meat cleaver. With careful and precise motions she slices the pig mouths into thin and fatty slivers. She collects a few dozen slices and places them neatly into her customers’ soup. Soon, the Mouth of the Pig, yes the Mouth that has brought us such joy these years, will be devoured.
I will be eating at this restaurant three times a day, every day until our friend’s mouth is gone. Not because I want to eat my friend, but because I want to make sure he is returned to his proper home and gets there with the love he deserves. After I eat him I will probably burn an enormous pile of fake money outside my home, so he is rich in the afterlife, sending plumes of ash into the air and water supply.