Pig and washed-up TV star Arnold Ziffel stares at the fat man in confused wonder with a big mean streak right down the middle. “How does a junkie like you stay so fucking fat?”
El Gordo Hermoso stuffs another Slim Jim beneath his voluminous and ragged mustachio. “It ain’t easy, puerco.” He leans the creaking chair back against the tobacco stained 70’s wallpaper, some kind of symphony of burnt umber and orange. It’s the kind of “affordably-priced” motel where your shoes stick to the carpet. The smell of strong bleach tells you more than you want to know.
“Watch your mouth fat stuff.” Arnold’s voice sounds like he’s been gargling with gravel and crusty old charcoal. “Us wild boars are known to eat humans when you give us shit, cabrón.” Arnold worries the smoldering cig about in his maw and glances at the clock. “Save it for Weight Watchers and get that junk cut. We’ve got a deadline. People to meet. Got it?”
“Yeah? You inna hurry? Why don’t you cut it?”
What a snark. Arnold spits. “No opposable thumbs, jackass. You want the money or what?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah….” Gordo turns back to the baby powder. The things a pig has to do for money.
“Hey pig, maybe just a little snort of this first…”
“Golden rule, fathead. ‘Don’t get high on your own supply.'” snorts Arnold. Gordo looks sad, but then gets down to work. Arnold softens a touch. “After. Then you can nod out.”
Sigh. “Ok. You’re the boss, pig.”
Arnold is staring at the glocks on the coffee table; cleaned, loaded and ready and thinks to himself: “After, if you survive.“
Unfamiliar with former TV Star Arnold Ziffel? About our pig.
Then there’s the time Arnold needed smokes…
Haha a talking, street wise pig. I like it.