I'm telling you, those were her exact words: "When pigs fly." I guess I was starting to get on her nerves, you know? Sure, I'd asked her out, like, a few times before--okay, like, five, ten, tops--she was nice at first, then maybe a little, you know, pissy, but then, finally: "When pigs fly." I mean, I wasn't asking to marry her, you know? (I mean, not that I wouldn’t, but that's like what, a sixth date thing?) I just wanted to go for some dinner down at the Pie. I'm asking you, officer, is that too much to want?

            Instead, I wound up, as usual, having dinner with Lonnie at Frankie's. He's a good guy, Lonnie, even if he’s, you know, not unbelievably bright. And I guess that was when we got the idea. Pretty much, right around between the sixth and the seventh beers. Well, I did. It was my idea. I want to make that clear. Lonnie had nothing to do with it. I mean, jeez, the guy just did a favor for a friend, you know? Cut him some slack.

            I thought about it all the next day at work down at the car rental. You have a lot of time to think at the car rental. It's not real busy, you know? We're not downtown or anything, and people come in, want a car to drive up to like Six Flags and shit, mostly over the weekend. This was a Wednesday, dead quiet. Lots of time to think. Plan. Get all the details straight.

            Now, I want to tell you about Cheryl: she just moved to the neighborhood from somewhere like in Indiana and didn't know too many people. So my little sister Alyssa and her started hanging out, and Alyssa brought her home--yeah, I'm living at home with the 'rents, like I'm between apartments, you know?--and that's where I met her. So I pestered Alyssa for her number, and she finally give it to me, but she kept telling me that Cheryl didn't like me like that, and anyway wasn't interested in dating that much. I guess I should've listened, huh? I mean, she told me, Alyssa did, especially after I'd asked Cheryl out, like, you know, 15, 20 times. Alyssa said it, man, she said, "Alan, you gotta stop. She's not going out with you." She was, like, pleading with me. Yeah, I know: I should've listened. Believe me: I know. But instead I had my great idea.

            It took us--me, it was just me, I'm telling you, Lonnie didn't hardly do anything, except actually use the knife right there at the end--anyway, it took a couple of weeks to set it all up, get everything we needed, the ropes, the paint, the...well, you know. I made sure the big night was a full moon. The three-flat where Cheryl lived in her little studio was right by the alley, so no problem there, unless she saw us too early. That made me a little nervous. Tell you the truth, I was totally biting my nails to the skin. Also, I don't know how many times I went over the signal with Lonnie. I love that guy like my brother, but Jesus, he is not anyone's idea of a rocket scientist, you know?

            So, finally, when everything was ready, I went up and buzzed at the front door of Cheryl's three-flat. She yelled over the intercom, "Who is it?", and I told her and I could hear a big sigh from the intercom--yeah, it was that loud a sigh; I could hear it on that tinny intercom. The front door buzzed and I grabbed it and went and knocked on her apartment door. She opened it in her robe and pink slippers, and her face was kind of hard, you know. I could tell she really didn't want to see me. Which, okay, I got that.  "What?" she asked me. Yeah, it was like that.

            "Look, I know you said, like, 'When pigs fly,' and I get that, I respect that, but, could I like show you something?” I was talking really really fast.  “Would you just like step out on the front stoop and then I'll never ask you out--or even talk to you, if you don't want--ever again, okay?" She rolled her eyes a little, but said, "Yeah, okay, wait a minute," and she went back in, while I shoved out a relieved breath. I was really worried--really worried--she wouldn't even come out on the stoop with me. That was my biggest worry, I swear: that she wasn't going to come out on the stoop.

            She shut the apartment door behind her, wearing her jacket for the cold, and walked out the little hallway and out onto the stoop. "Okay," I said, putting up a hand to stop her. "You just stay right there. I walked down the three stone steps to the street and gave Lonnie the signal, then I turned around. I wanted to see the look on her face.

            It was something to see, too. She was looking at me with that tired bored look that said she just wanted to get back inside and then...she was looking past me, over my shoulder. And her eyes were wide, and, I don't know, full of...amazement. I turned around to look where she was looking; I had to see this. Sure enough, four dozen feeder pigs, each about the size of a fifth-grader, were rising slowly into the air; a couple of them had gotten up even with the tops of the three-flats, but the rest were still trailing ropes to the ground. Lonnie came out of the alley, the knife he'd cut the ropes with still in his hand. You couldn't even see the weather balloons, which we'd spray-painted black, in the night. The moon lit the pigs, the ones that had risen out of the sodium light, just perfect, though. We'd thought of outfitting them with like cardboard wings, but I thought that might have been a little over-the-top.

            I turned back to Cheryl; she was looking at me, her face curious and kind of shocked and awed. I shrugged and smiled a little; I felt a little shy, the way I always did with her, but not so nervous anymore. "'When pigs fly,' you said." It was the first time I'd ever seen her smile. Better, she was smiling at me. I kind of felt a little like I was up there with those pigs, you know?

            What? Where'd I get them? This is Chicago. Hog butcher to the etc. Didn't you learn that poem in school? Yeah, I know they don't do that anymore, but you can still buy a few dozen live pigs if you got the cash. The weather balloons I got from American Science and Surplus, over on Milwaukee and Central, and the helium. Lonnie had to drive me, 'cause of how I'd sold my car. Plus there was my dad’s 1908 World Series ball I had to sell.

            I gotta tell you, I wish that smile had lasted all night, the one I got from Cheryl. Actually, I wish it'd lasted like even a minute. Because it ended suddenly, man. Gone and there was, what? A look of horror? Yeah.

            Here's what I didn't know then: that pigs like to chew on things, and if you tie them up, they'll chew right through pretty much anything you tie them with in like a minute. So right around then, about half a ton of squealing pork comes hurtling down outta the sky and smashes onto Linder Ave. Killed Herbie Pryzblwski's Duster. Set off a couple dozen car alarms. Mostly just made a hell of big noise and an even bigger mess. Gross? I gotta tell you. Those pigs were like bombs.

            Then came down another half ton of pork. Cheryl was screaming. Lonnie--I could just see Lonnie down at the end of the street, running like...well, like a ton of live feeder pigs was falling down outta the sky.

            Me? I was just staring at those pigs falling down into the sodium lights and then...just...splatting on the street. I felt kinda bad, you know? I mean, no way was Cheryl going out with me now. Also, I was a little scared one of them was going to hit me.

            And okay, officer, I gotta admit here: I didn't really think about what would happen to the pigs after we made them fly, you know? Even without the chewing and the pig-bombing. Because the ones that didn't come smashing down onto Linder that night, well, I guess you know: they just kept rising until the pigs froze or like suffocated, and officer, I swear to God I am so sorry about all those frozen pig carcasses--not to mention the ones that, like, thawed and rotted, still up in the air--coming down on those people's houses and, yeah, that one Columbus Day parade. As far away as Minneapolis, huh? Wow.

            I'd have come in to confess sooner, but I kind of wanted to let the fuss die down a little. I'm telling you, people were out for blood on Cheryl's block. I knew you were looking for me, and I'm kind of grateful that Cheryl didn't say anything to you about me.

You think she likes me a little after all? Maybe I should ask her out again.