"I sleep with these pigs, right between them," Ben announces. "It's nice. Warm in the winter, cool in the summer."
"His ex used to come over and sleep with Jimmy every Wednesday night, and it was kind of sweet," the roommate says grudgingly. "The sweet noises he made, the grunts--it was very loving. But then she moved to Wyoming."
The ex, not the pig.
8 p.m.: With the kids nestled under their eiderdowns and the sun having sunk in the western hills, I throw one last pork chop bone to the dogs and--
No, wait.
And thus we see, after another successful Colorado Swine Day, that the hog is our friend, a productive member of the agrarian society deserving of positive--
Still not right.
How about another
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