Oink Johnson

My father and grandfather were great storytellers. By that, I don’t mean to imply they were liars. But they did take writer’s license to make stories more interesting to their audience. Every storyteller does, whether writing jokes for Letterman, penning a novel, or relating family history around the dinner table.

My father told this story many times. It was one of our favorites because it was about people we knew, but you'd have to hear Dad tell it to think it was funny. Even though I didn't believe it was true, knowing my father, I was never quite sure and years later, I read a similar story about another family. I heard this version first, more or less. I’ve changed names to protect the innocent (me).

Oink Johnson

Every Saturday when I was a kid, my father would go to the Sale Barn at Scottsburg. Everything was sold at the Scottsburg Sale Barn at some time of another. Fresh vegetables, tube socks, ponies, neck ties, toys, and livestock. Some weeks Dad came back empty handed; some weeks he came back with treasures - or livestock.

One Saturday, he and my older brother bought a pig at the livestock auction. They put it in the back of the pick-up truck to bring home, but the pig kept jumping over the sides. Finally, they stuck it in the front seat between them.

About half way home, they were pulled over by a couple of policemen. As the men approached, my brother slapped a cap on the pig’s head.

“Hi, officers. Nice day, isn’t it?” my dad greeted the men. “Is there a problem?”

“You’ve got a tail light out,” the younger of the pair replied. “License and registration, please.”

“Thanks, Officer. I didn’t realize the light was out,” Dad answered, handing over the license as Neil got the registration out of the glove compartment.

The younger man returned to the patrol car to check the license while the senior officer put a foot on the running board and talked about the weather and the crops like they did in that part of southern Indiana. Being a farm boy himself, he just ignored the pig.

Eventually, the officer returned and handed the paperwork back to Dad. “Everything looks okay, Mr. Johnson. Just get that light fixed this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Officer. I certainly will. I don’t want to risk my kids’ lives by driving them around in an unsafe truck.”

As the men walked away, Dad heard the younger one say, "Did you notice anything strange in that truck?"

The older man replied, “Nope. They were a nice family”.

The other one replied, “Yeah, Bob, they were, but you have to admit that Oink Johnson is one ugly kid”.