Maine is filled with stories of shipwrecks, ghosts in old lighthouses, noises in the woods, and long, cold winters.
Last week the cops in China, Maine got a domestic violence call. Someone reported loud, banshee-like screaming coming from a house 'down Hanson road.'
The officers turned the corner onto the wet, muddy, red rutted lane leading to a rural farm. The officers jumped from the patrol car, pushed the rickety screen door to the side and busted through the out-of-plumb wooden door. A startled resident flinched, spun around and looked up.
What's going on, officers? Screaming? Oh, you must be talking about my pigs... The lady could barely get the words out that she raises pigs and the screaming came from an overjoyed male pig placed in a pen with five sows in heat.
The police report read in part...no altercation found, no drunken husband cornering a battered mate, not even a toothless drug addict fighting over a stash; nothing ‘other than the screaming male pig.’
The 911 caller must be from New York. Case closed.
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