“He’s right. We’ve done nothing to them,” Mom says. She reopens the blinds and heads for the door. “I’m not hiding anymore.”

“They’ll run us out of town,” Dad says.

“I’ve had it with that Mrs. Travis!”

Mom walks out the front door before Dad can stop her. They don’t notice her until Mrs. Travis starts screaming and hiding behind the squad car. Nobody says a word and we stare across the street for a long time. The cop slides over to his vehicle and calls for backups.

“Why don’t we just kill them?” I ask. “Be done with them once and for all!”

Mom growls and slaps my snout with an open paw. “That’s not what we’re about!”

Dad reaches for his cell phone. “It’s time to feed these pigs.”

The squad cars arrive minutes later and the cops file out like swine after slop. They have us surrounded, but a doughnut truck arrives and the delivery driver hoists several boxes of pastries on his shoulders. The pigs dig in, eating their fill and forgetting all about us.