1965 Visibility, Part 2 - the pig joke

Thursday, August 21, 2008

I have several examples of occasions when I lost credit (or more accurately, credit was stolen) because I was too quiet.

This one is small, but even though it was like 15 years ago, it still rankles.

The local Mensa group has a camping weekend every fall. I don't camp, but I'll go for the day Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday nights, they used to have a bonfire, and a sing-along, finishing up with a joke-off.

There are two of our male members who always have a stock of jokes, and they study up for the joke-off, and it usually ends up with the two of them trying to outdo each other.

I can never remember jokes. Don't know why, I just can't remember short jokes. I do marginally better with long jokes or "shaggy dog" stories. But this one year I had a terrific new joke - it was new then, but old now. You've probably heard some version of it. It's called "The Wonderful Pig". There are a few versions of it out there on the web, but it's been shortened. It loses effect shortened. When I had it, it was new, full, and punchy. And I'm durn good at telling a story.

So, that night, the joke-off had been going a while, and the two guys were starting to slow down. It looked sort of like Bill was winning. And then I raised my hand and told "The Wonderful Pig". No one had heard it before, and it got a very good reception.

Then I went home for the night.

The next morning at breakfast, they had the vote for best joke told the night before. I don't know what the ballots looked like, whether they had the name of the teller on them, whether it was a show of hands or a secret vote, because I hadn't arrived yet. Shortly after I arrived, they announced the winner for the best joke told the night before.

It was unaminous. The winner for the best joke, "The Wonderful Pig", was Bill. Everybody cheeered and clapped, Bill got up to collect his prize.

I sat there stunned. I turned to NJ and said, "Bill didn't tell that joke, I did." She said, "No, Bill did. I remember." She had been sitting right next to me when I told it. Later I went to Bill, and I reminded him that the The Wonderful Pig was my contribution. He said no, it was his.

I suspect that whoever made up the ballot put him as the teller, because it was most likely, and after that it became fact in everyone's mind.

After all, I never tell jokes.

I'm still angry. Still. Angry. Still.

I told you it was a little thing....

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The Wonderful Pig

One day a salesman stops in a bar in a small country town. While he's sitting there, a farmer enters, accompanied by a three-legged pig. The farmer sits at the bar, and the bartender, without being asked, draws a beer for the farmer, and a bowl of beer which he sets on the floor in front of the pig.

After the farmer and pig finish their beers and leave, the salesman calls the bartender over and asks him, frowning, if he usually serves farm animals in his establishment.

The bartender says "No, just that one. He's special. That's one wonderful pig", and goes on to tell the salesman the story.

Last spring the farmer and his wife were visiting neighbors for the evening, leaving their new baby boy in the care of their 12-year-old daughter. Somehow, a fire started in the basement. The daughter had been asleep on the couch, and had fallen unconscious from the smoke.

The pig, in his sty, must have seen the fire or smelled the smoke, and he broke out of his sty and ran to the house. He kicked in the door, grabbed the daughter by her collar, and dragged her out to the porch, where she regained consciousness.

By now, the flames were in the living room. The pig, undeterred, ran through the flames and up the stairs to the baby's room. He picked up the baby and carried him outside, depositing him far from the house.

The flames were now starting to spread to the barn. The pig ran to the barn, and threw himself against the door until it burst open. He opened all the stalls, and bit and nipped and kicked until he forced all the panicked livestock outside.

He then ran a mile to the neighbor's house, where the farmer and his wife were visiting. He set up such a ruckus that the farmer, his wife, and the neighbors came outside. They saw the glow in the west, and knew exactly what it meant, and they headed for the farm. The neighbors did not have a telephone, so the pig ran another mile to the town, where he set up a ruckus at the fire hall, pulling the rope to ring the bell. The townsfolk looked out to see what the problem was, saw the glow, and knew what it meant.

The pig ran the two miles back home, leading the fire truck. He dragged his food trough out of the sty to a safe distance. Then he sat down and licked his burns.

The farmer's family was safe, the cows and horses were all saved. The house was half burned, but the barn was only slightly damaged.

"Yup," said the bartender, nodding, "that's one wonderful pig, and he can have a beer here any time he wants."

The salesman was impressed. "He did all of that on three legs?"

"Oh, no, he had four legs then."

Salesman: "What happened? Did he lose a leg to the fire?"

Bartender, shaking his head, "Oh, no. It's just that, well, when you have a wonderful pig like that, you don't eat him all at once."
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