Member-only story
“Pig-Man”
People called him "Pig-man" because of the horrible split in his chin that looked like a snout and the raspy voice that came out of his mouth in grunts and squeals.
In a pig way.
Needless to say, it wasn't exactly a sweet word. Since Pig-man and I went to the same school, I saw firsthand the terrible things that other kids did to him. Lots of mean teens were buzzing around him, ripping away at his pride like woodpeckers do with their sharp beaks. It wasn't strange. And that was when he wasn't busy having people change the way his already unattractive face looked just because he was different. Think about what that would be like. For just living, to be sprayed with violence? To be used as a stepping stone by someone who wants to move up in society?
Things at home didn't get better for him either. His "family," and I use the word "family" very loosely here, was made up of a drunken mother who was hooked to meth and a violent alcoholic father. No one who knew him was surprised that he couldn't get much out of life. Indeed, it was almost a miracle that he lived through decades of abuse and became the kind man that people finally knew him to be. There were years when all of us had finished, gone to college or moved on with our lives. But Pig-man decided to work as a caretaker at our high school.
