PORCINE WISDOM
ALM No.95, November 2026
SHORT STORIES
The pink pig walked down the street.This was a posh neighborhood on the westside of Los Angeles where pigs, pink or otherwise, are rarely, or never, seen. This pink pig with the rhinestone studded pink collar—one might assume from all the pinkness that this pig was female, or simply flamboyant—was tethered to a human by an equally pink leash.
I crossed the street—of course, who wouldn’t—to get a closer look and a snapshot of this rotund creature. I politely asked her name. Rosy. What a surprise. Although preferrable to Pinky or some such. Rosy was indifferent to my salutations, though I was not properly versed in pig conversation, so this was to be expected. Why keep a large pink pig as a pet in your suburban home, I wondered, though I didn’t ask. Not wanting to be rude to the man, the owner of said pink pig, who was himself outfitted top to toe in royal blue. The blue man and his pink pig. No shades of gray, no black or white for this duo. I imagined the possible technicolor aspect of the home and pen where the man and pig reside.
“Your pig is very attractive,” I said, knowing how most people appreciate compliments about their pets or children.
“Rose is a prize,” the man said.
“What a nice way to put it. Has she actually won prizes, like at fairs or something?” I had no clue about pigs and prizes.
“She’s won national prizes in writing.”
“Ah, interesting.” Interesting is a word, like nice, that means almost nothing at all. Or in this case, are you fucking out of your mind? “Oh, so you’re a writer, and you’ve written from your pig’s, I mean from Rosy’s, point of view. I think that’s been done quite a bit with dogs,” I said. “Very clever.” Or too cute by a mile, I thought
“I’m not a writer,” the man said. “Rosy is unusual.”
I nodded. As one does when confronted with whatever level of crazy this was. “Obviously,” I said. “I know pigs are smart, and I’m wondering just how she manages. With a computer, using her nose on the keyboard, right-hooved or left, like a dog’s paw?” This conversation was sliding into the absurd, still, I hoped the blue man wouldn’t think I was overly inquisitive, but asking a legitimate question.
“Computer,” he said. “Though I’d rather not say the specific mechanics of how she accomplishes it, but take my word for it, write she does.”
“No doubt,” I said, filled with plenty, but also highly amused. “Does she write fiction, non-fiction, essays, or maybe memoir?”
“I’d say it’s more personal essay than anything else.”
“Yes, of course, probably a lot of family history, News from the Sty, that kind of thing.”
The blue man gave me a withering look. I should probably mention here that the blue man was very tall and had a certain presence in the way of someone wearing a shiny satin shirt in daytime could make you feel your own sweatpants and tee were all wrong.
“Rosy has a following on social media and thousands of readers,” he said.
“That’s wonderful,” I said. “And, what does she do with all her writing profits?”
“Investments. Mainly vegan handbags and seitan plant-based meats.”
“Makes sense,” I said. “So, she can rest on her laurels, so to speak.”
“No way. She’s going into politics, running for office. Just wait, one day she
will be the first pig President of the United States.”
“Already been done,” I said. I didn’t think I had to say anything more. “Rosy will have to settle for being the first female pig president. She’s sure to be an improvement, cultured as she is. Every woman in America will vote for her. We already have the pink hats.”
Originally from New York, Janet Clare, grew up in Los Angeles, and attended UC Berkeley. She created and ran apparel business until escaping to write her first novel. Time Is the Longest Distance was published in 2018 by Vine Leaves Press, and her second novel, True Home, was published in 2025. She is currently completing her third novel.
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