4th of July

Chapter 35

“I USED TO HAVE a pig like this one,” Joe said as we leaned over the pigpen fence that evening.

“Come on! You’re from Queens.”

“There are backyards in Queens, Linds. Our pig’s name was Alphonse Pignole, and we fed him pasta and sautéed escarole topped off with a hit of Cinzano. Which he loved.”

“You’re making this up!”

“Nope.”

“What happened to him?”

“Ate him at one of our famous Molinari family pig roasts. With apple sauce.”

Joe saw the look of disbelief on my face.

“Okay, that part was a lie. When I went to college, Al got a great home in upstate New York. Let me show you something.”

He reached for a rake that was leaning against the pig house, and Penelope began grunting and woofling as soon as she saw it.

Joe grunted and woofled right back.

“Pig Latin,” he said, grinning over his shoulder.

He reached the rake over the fence and scratched Penelope’s back with it. She dropped to her knees and with a pleasurable groan rolled over onto her back and stuck her legs in the air.

“Your talents know no bounds,” I said. “By the way, I think you’re entitled to three wishes.”