The Pigman's Expression/ Chapter 1
The year 1982, the house on Howard Lane a scarce notice. A setback to twenty years ago, John Conlan, me, was either smoking, drinking, or making prank phone calls. The funny thing is, that's not what I've been paying for for the past twenty years. Smoking had nothing to do with the Pigman's death. I didn't either. But the more I tell my self that, the more I think I'm lying. If you never read this story, you'll probably continue to think that Lorraine and I got married. Well, that's a lie. I haven't even seen her in fifteen years until yesterday when we found each other on a one-way flight to New York where the Pigman's house, or the remains of it were left on Howard Lane. During the flight, we didn't even say anything to each other until we got to New York. And when we got to New York, she had a crying party and actually, so did I. Lorraine and me then canceled our rental car plans and took the bus every where as if we were teens again. I stopped smoking six years ago but the memory of this place led me to buy a pack and start again.
The Pigman's house, unbelievably, looked exactly how it looked when Lorraine and I met Gus. Speaking of Gus, he's the reason why I'm even writing right now. When Lorraine and I got here, upstairs was the first place we went, mainly because the first floor was all cleared out. And in the Pigman's bedroom we found the type writer that Gus had supposedly been using to write a letter to his lover all the way in California whom we knew nothing about.
Last night, Lorraine and I slept on the Pigman's bed. The same bed in which us as teens had our first moment where the world around us didn't matter. "I'm Your Romeo and you're my Juliet. One kiss, my darling is all I ask."
And then the act became real and we embraced.
This morning I found something which caused my writing of this story. I woke up before Lorraine did and decided to have a look around the rooms which I hadn't seen in such a long time and found myself searching in the room where the glass pigs once were first. I opened the door and the smell of chipped paint came rushing in my face. Nothing but dust and a shattered light bulb seemed to be in the room. That is until I actually walked in… On a dark black shelf in the back of the room there was one glass pig still left standing. It was the same one which was a wedding present from the Pigman to Conchetta, his wife. Curious, I went and picked up the pig and reached inside. Inside was something neither I nor Lorraine could ever forget about.
I pulled out a stained piece of notebook paper which had the familiar "Assassin, Boatman, Husband, wife, and lover" game the Pigman had demonstrated for us one night. And on the back was a note: "My expression towards these kids, Lorraine and John, is to show that everyone has something special to them, and if they neglect it, they may end up without it."
I stood there with the Pigman's will in my hand. He knew he was going to die. In Our case, Lorraine and I had neglected the Pigman. In the Pigman's case, he had neglected himself. He then ended up without himself, in other words, dead. We ended up without the Pigman and from now until the day we die, Lorraine and I will have to suffer. But now the Pigman's Expression still racing through my mind, gives me the comfort that the Pigman knows our suffering because he's gone through it as well. So in common we've all had a life of suffering. Lorraine, I, and the Pigman. But I have comfort knowing that it will all end soon.