Re:Visions Spring 2006 Issue #4

S PRING 2007 | I SSUE 5 next. He decided which of the pigs was Napoleon. He killed him, eating the bacon with satisfaction.

He tried to breed discontent among the animals with their new-found unity. He spoke. He separated each animal for questioning and, when they didn’t respond to his queries, repeated slowly, painstakingly, Two Legs Good, Four Legs Bad. He dropped out of school to devote more time to his brainwashing activities. He read more, trying to learn everything that he could to defeat the animals in their eventual uprising.

Otis knew that his father would come back again to help him defeat the animals. When he returned, though, he would need help. So, Otis started going to the neighboring farmers, asking each one for help against this fierce Animalism and suggesting that, if it were not contained, it would spread to their farms and animals too. Knowingly, they smiled and agreed, Sure Otis, whenever they attack we’ll be there for you, just don’t take ‘em all yourself, leave a few for the rest of us.

On his monthly trip to town, he handed Frank the cashier a flier in exchange for his receipt. Upon the paper, he had scratched, Stop Animalism Now, and listed a few warning signs that animals might be taking over the farm.

Gathering in Clandestine Groups, Singing Odd Songs, Wiskey Mysteriously Disappearing from Cabinets, Horses Who Want to Work Harder. Otis’s own animals had been more secretive than those obvious indicators, but he thought that everyone should at least know the basics anyway. Frank thought that the message was written in blood. He posted it beneath the counter.

The town talked. They called Otis crazy, and wondered if they should call child services. As Otis was nineteen, however, they discounted that idea.

Some said that they should try to find the relatives in that northeastern state.

Frank nodded. Others suggested that they let Otis stay with a townsperson and take over the farm communally. Frank shook his head at the socialist notion.

The same one who thought that Mr. Jones was a government agent, now associated with top secret matters rather than taxes, furtively said that they should raid the farm house for plans for covert operations. Frank the cashier stopped him.

What kind of operations, he said.

You know, the secret government kind, the one responded.

Then, Frank the cashier died. The town didn’t know what to do without him. How would they convey news? How would they know everything about the town? For a few days, the store remained closed. When it reopened, they discovered a new worker there, a girl recently from Italy of all places. She was the great niece of the assistant regional manager. The general store was 41