Coach Carl Torbett walked from the athletic offices at the back of the stadium in the company of J.T. Malone, the school's athletic director. The two past-their-prime former jocks stopped next to the mascot's sty and leaned over the rails.
A young pig, resting in a damp wallow of mud, gazed in surprise at the visitors.
"Some jackasses stole him the other night," Coach Torbett said. "But Kyle and some of the other guys on the team managed to get him back."
James saw that he had an audience, although he had no idea of the identities of the two men. They both looked overweight and one of them, in addition to an official school shirt, wore a whistle on a chain around his neck.
He rushed over to the fence and oinked up a storm. "Listen to me! You've got to help me! I'm not a pig!"
"Something's got the little fellow all stirred up," said the athletic director.
The coach laughed. "Likely still excited about all the commotion."
"No!" James oinked. "Please, listen! I'm not a pig!"
"Now that the season's winding down, we should start thinking of farming this one out," Malone said. "Next summer we can pick up his replacement."
James listened. "Replacement?" James wondered. "Farm him out?"
"There's still time to get him fattened up before cold weather," the coach said.
"I could call Darlington Webber," Malone said, dropping the name of one of the football program's major financial donors. "He has that big farm outside of town. Last year, he even sent me some of the sausage they made from the last one."
"Sausage?" James oinked. He felt his blood chill and he felt faint. The two men were matter-of-factly discussing fattening him up and making sausage and other pork products. James squealed and demanded they pay attention, once again denying his porcine identity.
"Oh shit! Can't anyone understand me?" James kept oinking. He had to get someone to help him... and before they sent him away to old man Webber's farm, wherever that was!
The men took one last look at the team mascot. Malone cleared his throat and spit on the ground outside the pen. "I'll make the call later this afternoon."
James squealed again and this time he really did pass out, not that the two men noticed. They had already turned their backs and walked away, unaware that the little piggy in question had just swooned into the mud after hearing of the fate they had in store for him.