Indeed the next day her mother stepped into Mr. Jones's little shop. Behind the glass she saw a pig head decorated with an apple in the snout and a bit of green lettuce grin at her. "Oh, so it was slaughter day?" she asked and Mr. Jones nodded happily. "Yes indeed, Mrs. Granger, we have had a bit of work yesterday." Yasmin's mother had not the faintest idea that she was looking at her own daughter's remains. Quickly Mr. Jones fished a pig ear from a little box below the counter and threw it over to the dog that had once been Yasmin's and who now chewed away happily at his former master.
"You know, I feel sometimes a little strange buying pork. Both of my daughters were assigned pigs..." Yasmin's mother added. "Oh, as far as I heard they would never slaughter those." Mr. Jones replied although he felt a guilty tinge of conscience when he said it. His new pig supplier provided real prime pork but once or twice he had had a feeling that some of the pigs looked slightly to intelligent. And recently he had slaughtered a sow, he could bet it had some faded tattoo on its back, right above the butt crack. Maybe the rumours he had heard were true after all and not all transmorphed kids managed to avoid the slaughterhouse. However, he did not pursue the matter any further since his customers seemed to acknowedge the recent improvements in meat quality as well as could be seen by the amounts of meats Mrs. Granger way buying. A few minutes later, Yasmin's mother left the little shop, carrying a whole bag of Yasmin with her while the dog still enjoyed his pig ear.
Mr. Jones remained behind with a little odd indea in his mind. A friend of his was working and the metamorphosis center and had hinted that he could slip away a few viols of the famous liquid required for the transformation. And hadn't he more than once been thinking that the neighbour girl had recently developped a wonderful ass at her sweet sixteen? He had even caught himself thinking what a great pleasure it would be to have this ass on his butcher block. It would be his master piece. He would cure it like he had never cured a ham before and enjoy it all by himself. Nobody would find out. He was a bachelor and his cellar could easily be turned into a little pig sty. Maybe he should not even just take the little neighbour brat but also these cute friends of her who always walked past his windows, wriggling their little asses in a fahsion that would just drive him crazy. Yes, maybe he should see his friend tonight for a cool beer or two...