Happy birthday, Pig.

“Day came around again, dinnit?”

It did. How you celebrating?

“Oh, you know the ol’ Pig. Same as always. Got me a negress that likes to tussle. Couple packs of smokes. Gallon of wine spo-dee-o-do.”

What the hell does that mean?

“Ain’t got the foggiest! Heard a black guy say it an’ thought it sounded cool! Course, that’s the explanation f’r most of what I say.”

True.

“The ol’ Pig don’t tell no lies!”

Also true. What was your best birthday?

“Well, one year when I was just a l’il Piglet, my folks came through with a brand new bicycle. Bright red like Superman’s cape an’ called a Huffy Daytona. Had a headlight on the front fender and get this: the bike powered the light. L’il doohickey goes up against the wheel and that spins around like a dynamo. Make your own juice!”

That’s a good birthday.

“Wasn’t th’ best, though. ’67. That one was th’ best of all.”

What was so special about 1967?

“Only year we ever had a show that day. Better th’n a cake!”

Yes, it is. Happy birthday, Pig.

“Awful nice o’ ya, but the ol’ Pig got some candles t’ blow out, if y’know what I mean.”

I do.