Note: So that news story about the feral pig getting drunk and fighting a cow? Anyway, I wrote this way back in 1997 or 1998, based on a post-card writing assignment given to me by Luis Alberto Urrea.
Me and Bobby had our annual meeting last night up by the south bank of the lake. It was a good night for a meeting. Oh, me and Bobby meet every night, just to shoot the shit and what not. But last night was the Official Meeting.
We both belong to the International Society of Freaks of Nature — ISOFON for short. And the local chapters meet at least once a year. We’re the only two freaks in the area and we’ve never met any of the other guys, but it’s nice to feel like part of something. I think that’s very important, to be part of something. I remember this scraggly yellow dog tried to join up once. Called himself O’Brien and the only thing freakish about him was his extraordinary use of foul language and his obsession with sex (from what I hear he couldn’t get it up). Well, me and Bobby decided not to let him join. Found out recently that he got shot while on the prowl. Kinda feel guilty about that. Wonder if it would have happened if we’da let him join.
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