Ode to piggy…

The Syncretia Scweinchen (piglet) is no more. It’s poor brain gave out to the pressure of the code and it started acting strangely. All of  a sudden that totally nerve wrenching whistle wasn’t there anymore and those swift turns in mid air with which it would chase me around also did not seem quite as masterful as before.

piggy2

What really brought home the ailment to me however was when one evening I jumped into the water right in front of its nose and it did not want to follow me in. I immediately let Hack know, since, as its owner he was the only one in a position to intervene. But then again, given his expertise in metaverse medicine I would have called him in anyway I guess. All of this happened on the eve of my human journey to Egypt where I had very meager internet access and could not go in-world. When I returned a week or so later the poor thing was seriously ill. It just lay motionless at the foot of the power plant to where it may have crawled in a last ditch effort at trying to gain some benefit from the healing waters – but obviously too little too late. Hack told me that it was brain dead.

piggy1

Now, amazingly enough, I had become rather attached to the beast and wanted to give it a decent burial – nice little grave, nice little headstone, becoming little service, eulogy, maybe some third church hymns – I am sure you know the sort of thing I had in mind… In fact, wolfie and I discussed all this at some length and he remembered that a friend of his called Fuzzy Janus was a Second Life undertaker who could be prevailed upon to take care of all the arrangements and that, in any case, he (wolfie) would definitely be there, with all the material and emotional support that I might need in this dark hour. He also suggested that we should have a funeral meal which Hack, apparently a kick-ass chef, could cook. (Little wonder that the man can cook btw, given that he seems to think about food 7/24. Cordon Bleu stuff too: I have been severely reprimanded on numerous occasions concerning my somewhat pedestrian proclivity for cokes and burgers. Although there was that one rare little moment when he did break down and acknowledged that Burger King totally rockzzz!!! ;-). Anyway… And if a funeral banquet, why not a wake as well? So, all plans in place, everything was set to all systems go!

Alas, none of this was to be: Hack explained to me that although the brain was dead it was still somehow active except that now its brain activity had turned into garbled spam and it was spamming its owner, i.e., Hack non-stop. (Which is poetic justice if ever there was any I must say… hhh). So, horror of all horrors, it could not be buried, it had to be deleted! This was shocking news indeed. Now, I had just returned from Karnak and the Valley of the Kings and my imagination was rife with mummies – so I immediately offered a solution: Could we maybe embalm it? If we deleted the script, would that not effectively be the same as lifting the brain off of a dead body? But, no. Apparently that wouldn’t work either, the poor thing was a no modify object and had to be left intact. Deeply upset I logged off… 

Logged back in the next day to find that it was gone. Obviously Hack must have come at some point and put the beast out of its misery. After the initial schock of bereavement was over I gathered my self together. If nothing else, I am adaptable. So, I would have a little memorial service. There would only be me in attendance but I would still do it in style, with dignity. A memorial plaque would be put where the pig had fallen and I would dress in an appropriate manner too – which did of course, necessitate a little shopping expedition: Although vast, my wardrobe has not really been assembled with sombre occasions such as funerals and memorial services in mind. But just say the word shopping and I am off like a rocket – and extremely resourceful at it too, I might add.

lace

So, half a day in the shopping haunts of the metaverse and I had a glorious black lace outfit in place, the plaque was ready and the north shore of Syncretia was scene to a touching solo memorial service.

memorial

It always rains there and this too added to the overall feeling of gloom as I sunk the plaque into the ground, said my little eulogy, meditated on the vagaries of the metaverse that would have brought such a young life to such an untimely end, prayed for good futures, made some resolutions and then… went on my merry way!!!

plaqu

More images, as well as an account of the early days of the Syncretia Schweinchen can be found here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/alpha_auer/sets/72157604675318894/

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