By the time I finished reading my English homework, Homer's Odyssey, the fall wind was rattling the kitchen windows. Yikes! It was already getting dark, and I still had chores to do. I zipped up my sweatshirt and headed out the door, double-time, to feed pigs. On my way to the pen, I thought about Homer and some of the amazing things that happened in his stories. Now that author had some imagination: one-eyed giants and a woman named Circe magically turning men into pigs. Yuck! The last thing I'd ever want to be is a pig, rooting around in mud until it came time to be turned into bacon.

I filled three cans with grain and yelled into the wind, "Sui, sui, pig, piggy!" A second later, Yorkshire Fred, Ethel, Aretha, and Bert trotted, snorting, up to the fence. I leaned over the rail and started pouring their dinner into the trough when I heard a loud crack above me. The sound came from a humongous limb snapping off the old oak tree right over my head. I moved away fast, but not far enough to escape the falling branch. Wham! Suddenly I was seeing stars, and then everything went black.

When I woke up, it was daylight, and I was still in the pigpen. My head hurt, so I reached up to rub it with my hoof. My hoof? Whoa! I blinked and checked myself out. Somehow I had a short tail, a potbelly, and four pink stubby legs instead of hands and feet. No doubt about it; I was all pig. "Somebody call 9-1-1," I screamed, but only squeals came out of my snout. Fred, Ethel, Aretha, and Bert surrounded me.

"What's the matter with you, boy?" asked Bert.

"I'm not really a dumb, dirty animal, I'm a kid," I answered, "and this is my worst nightmare ever. Get someone to change me back!"

"Well, I never," huffed a disgruntled Aretha. "Dumb, dirty animals, indeed. We pigs are some of the cleanest and most intelligent animals on the planet!"

"You tell him about pig pride, girl!" said Ethel. "Don't let him get away with thinking we're just the other white meat."

"First of all," continued Aretha, "we pigs have no sweat glands, so we use mud to keep cool. We are as clean as our surroundings allow us to be. You humans think you are all of that and a bowl of corn, but who needs to use deodorant? Not us! You just don't appreciate all we pigs do for you. Why, we have been serving humans for ten thousand years! We even traveled with Christopher Columbus to the New World. Our skins have been used to help heal severe wounds, especially deep burns, for hundreds of years! Because our anatomy is like yours, students dissect our cardiovascular system to learn how it works, and our heart valves have been transplanted to humans. Our sensitive noses are used to find special mushrooms. We bond with humans, and we learn to pose on command at county fairs to please you, but do we get credit for that?"

"No way, Aretha," Bert interrupted. "Most people only think of our sweet meat: port chops, loin roasts, holiday hams, bacon and sausage, but our feet and snouts are also pickled and served every day. Special dishes made from pork are world famous: Sweet and Sour pork in China, Hungarian Goulash, chitlin's and barbequed ribs in the deep South. And what would a Hawaiian luau be without roast suckling pig?"

"Right on, Bert!" snorted Ethel. "Almost every part of a pig is used for some kind of human or animal food, other products such as fine leather wallets, and medicines."

"We pigs do so much for you humans. All we ask for in return is clean fresh water, food, enough living space, and a little R-E-S-P-E-C-T," sniffled Aretha. We are sensitive creatures!"

"Tyler, wake up, son!"

I looked up at my dad and then at myself. "Dad, I'm human again!"

"Um, okay son. That's a nasty bump on your head. Let's check it out at the hospital."

As dad picked me up and put me into the pickup, I tried telling him about our talking pigs, but he didn't seem to get it. Anyway, I was never going to look at pigs without thinking about what they said. As we pulled away, I looked back at the pen, and I swear Aretha winked at me.