Posted June 1, 2012
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One day, three years into The Impending Doom that looms over us all in the form of the persistent famine poised to completely wipe out what remains of this barren blob of despair we once called the blue orb, Fatty, the junk dealer’s little secret, shat something that smelt strangely familiar.
He doesn’t know why even after Our Great Server classified all arable land, plants and animals under ‘Food’, and declared the possession of any of these precious items the world’s most heinous crime, the junk dealer could neither let go of the pig nor eat it.
Everyone knows what becomes of those who hoard food. Still, why he willingly risks his life every day, and even shares his daily ration with the pig, he doesn’t know for sure.
The pig gives him hope he feels. There’s something in its eyes that tells him life will find a way. He didn’t know how, till this day.
Hesitatingly, he picks up the fresh turd from the basement floor where he keeps the pig, and brings it close to his nose. His eyes swell in amazement as his mind makes the connection. It smells exactly like the sliver of chicken he shared with the pig last night. Next, he does the unthinkable and finds it unbelievably same in taste too. It’s not like chicken. It is chicken! Almost out of his wits now, he hugs and kisses the pig excitedly. The pig, confused, responds noisily. He immediately tightens the muzzle on its mouth. But it’s too late.
It takes him a minute to realise the knock on the door is for real. He quickly hides the pig and tip-toes out of the basement to find his worst fear standing at the door.
‘Is everything okay sir?’, the face behind the mask barks.
The junk dealer’s mouth opens in a blank. He’s really sure he’s said something like a ‘Yes’ but doesn’t hear it. It feels like a hungry void ate his words as soon as they came out.
‘Is everything okay, sir?’ the voice of the Food Police Officer echoes in his head this time.
He clears his throat. Still no sound. It’s now that he realises he’s no longer in control and drops down like dead meat.
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Abhishek Chaswal is the founder and worldwide creative director at BrandNewWordOrder. An indie-minded communication design space, BrandNewWordOrder was formally established in 2012 after years of being engaged in the world’s 2nd oldest profession. The lovechild of words in play, it picks up threads from music, books, cinema, art and life to stitch together seemingly silly sensible stuff that’s sometimes twisted to a tee! For more, visit brandnewwordorder.wordpress.com.
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