Jess does a quick head count of the remaining customers in the store, all piggish, of course, and tallies up twenty-six adults and ten children, but her numbers may be off. She's finding it harder and harder to think straight, more difficult to keep her thoughts human and not animal.
The children are playing in the mess of the buffet table, which at some point that Jess can't recall, has been tipped over. Some people are on all fours stuffing their faces with it. There are a couple of males in the far right corner of the store fighting each other over a female's attentions. It looks like a highly disorganized sumo wrestling match, but a bit more cruel and violent. Jess doesn't find it odd that the larger, darker male has bitten the shorter one on the snout.
Mary and her chosen male are fucking furiously on the shattered remains of a wooden table. Jess can't make out any words being said over Mary's high-pitched squeals, but she wouldn't make any out even if Mary wasn't squealing - no words are being said, not that Jess would be able to understand them anymore anyway. She hasn't noticed it, but she, like Mary and all the others, has experienced a significant amount of intellect drop. They're behaving like animals because it's all they know how to behave as. This may or may not be permanent.
Jess stands up, her pig's mind having decided, and waddles over to the male she singled out before. He's dark-skinned, most likely having been of african-american origin as a human, but that's of no consequence now. Jess slowly approaches him, not as vivaciously as her friend did her own, more appropriate a submissive female animal to a dominant male, and waits for him to make his move.
He doesn't get the chance, though, as a crashing window followed by a loud heavy thunk on the floor heralds a new arrival - gas canisters.
It only takes seconds to render the entire room's contents unconscious.