the first guy out of the group of seven young men to actually lose it and marry. My best man had left his motorcycle in layaway, a Honda 400. He called it his hog. I went to the stockyard to buy a pig. At the bachelor's party we hid it in a room. The party came, a good ol' time. Some drink, some barbeque. He asked: Where's my hog? I said: It's in that room. He fell in love with that pig. We took it to all the bars. My best man knew I was staying at the Sheraton. He climbed up onto the roof with this pig in a cardboard tube and swung it onto my balcony. One of the girls called screaming: Don't throw the pig off the balcony! I woke up and put on my wedding suit to take the pig downstairs. I gave it to a guard who, it was found, was in cahoots. We put the pig in lockdown. Then we ate it. It made little tiny pork chops – so tender. The flesh on its back grilled all the way down.