'Is innocence such a sin?' Brody wondered, as he left the home once more, evading his all-too-comfortable relatives. 'Who decides what's sinful and what's not, anyway? Who gets to make that call? And why do I always feel like I'm being punished for staying true to myself?' He went out to get himself a snack at the grocery store, and a drink. The walk took him a few blocks away, and he averted eye-contact from others the entire time. He did not know how to make friends with strangers. He did not know how to be comfortable with others. He did not know how he was supposed to exist. Only that, somehow, he was doing it wrong.

When he returned, Brincosa was there, with her four children. One niece, adopted, was on the balcony huffing Beelza's secondhand smoke. The other, born to a father whose name could not be named (for dramatic reasons), was watching cartoons. The older nephew, who still creeped Brody the fuck out, was playing his GameSwap. The younger, however, was carrying a book. He, still only six years old, wanted someone to read to him, so he could learn. And nobody in the room would, because they were busy on their phones, or smoking weed, or watching another screen. Brody did not do this often, but he saw the need, and decided to take it upon himself. He sat by the boots and shoes, and patted the ground. The boy waddled over, and sat with him. Despite everything, he was by far the most reserved, and could calm himself platonic when the situation called for it. The others carried an element of flirtation about them in everything they did, which make Brody's skin crawl. But like Brody, this boy preferred not to, which put them both at ease. Brody cracked open the book, and began to read.

The Queen & The Hog

by The Grimshaw Brothers

Once upon a time, there was a noblewoman. Not a princess, but royal in heart. Beloved by her people, she arrived when they needed her most, to save them from a rampage of vicious, greedy, and gluttonous hogs.

They trampled like elephants, they kicked just like mules. They cried when the people chased them around, but squealed at every morsel they stole, in utter delight at their resilience and guile.

The people knew not what to do, but the noblewoman had grown in a realm plagued by hogs from her very birth. She knew what their hunger could rend. So she stopped them; not with violence, nor cruelty, but with kindness, and stern phrase.

She said unto them, 'The high road is meant for man, and the low is meant for beast. And I will walk the high, and condemn thee to gravel, and mud. And ye shall starve back to pigs, in absence of our charity.'

The hogs were quite shocked, and sat, rolled over in the wetted ground. Their pride had been wounded, their ears had been pierced by the sound. And so they decided they had lost, and no dollop of pretense could change it, evermore.

The queen was annointed ruler to-be, and all the people gathered round. She was the queen they had chosen, the one they adored. But attendance was sparse. Many preferred the kings, before her. Many believed that she did not belong there, in that kingdom, at all.

Some compared her to the previous king – a wisp, who'd faded without applause. He was little to remember, for he could lo but memorize himself. And for this, the queen was insulted near to her grave.

Being clever, the queen had her bakers make a cake, one that would attract the people. As soon as the sugar was smelt, they began to gather round. Just as the queen took her first bite, a hog nearby grew curious.

The people were shocked, for though the hogs had been spared, they were never to roam streets again. They were to run the grounds, outside, where boarish ways hurt none. But the queen, showing dignity, bothered him none.

The hog took a bite from her ceremonial slice, just as the queen was declared with crown. The queen found it cute, and gave him the rest of the cake. The next day, the hog was given the crown.

The hog ordered as many cakes as he could, and demanded that the queen deliver them herself. The people were shocked, and wondered why she did not fight. This was because, in her wisdom, she had decided long ago:

'The people do not worship me. They do not appreciate me. They do not love me, nor do they believe. So I will teach them a lesson. I will put a hog on the throne, and I will show them who is queen – by showing them full well who is not.'

When the crown took to his head, the people laughed. Surely their queen was joking! They howled at the sight, and many said he should have been king all along. They fed him cake, watched him rape the other hogs, and made of him a grand theatre show.

But the hog, fat on cake, and on royal favor, grew fond of his throne. There were many who adored him, who loved him as he resembled their kings of yore. And he had been loved by his own kind, before, for his piggishness and gluttony.

So the hog, now crowned, so no reason to be moved. And when the queen, twinkle in her eye, came to dislodge him, he simply would not, and could not be budged. For he had become too large to remove. And when she tried to take his crown, he opened his maw, and bit her hand... clean off.

Then, the hog demanded, 'Seize her! Send her to the dungeons. For there is where she will rest, until I have decided what to do with her. And when I rule it, she shall die, to hang, and then perish.'

The queen, arm losing its blood, demanded to know: 'For what crime do you imprison me? For I have made you king, and now I seek only my own crown from your fat, wretched head.'

The hog laughed. 'Because, fair queen. For all things you have done in life, for as fair as you have ever been, there is a crime that stains you. You, hag in royal robes, took the first bite from my cake.'

And so the queen was sent below, along with all her men. And the hog lavished, for the rest of his days, in their castle. He invited his friends, he tore down the walls, and brought down the bakery which made those cakes so fine.

Then, for an age, was ruin. The pig had bitten that hand which fed him, and swallowed it whole. And it staved him through the famine he and his old drove had caused. The queen and her men starved, in the cold of stone.

So then, there was no one to save them, those people who had needed her. And though they had loved her, and adored her in death, soon they were burned in the flames, and were crushed to death by the wreckage of her kingdom.

So then, there was no one to remember her. And the hogs went back to the wild, as if the kingdom had never been. And that, dear readers, is why you must never give your crown to a hog. Not even if you think it's funny.

Brody closed the book, and the boy was asleep. He smiled to see the child resting against his arm, drooling out of the far corner of his mouth.
Then, he heard an "Awwwe!"
He looked up, unstartled and unsurprised, to see Brincosa holding her phone. SNAP! She took three pictures, and giggled to herself.
"You two look adorable," she said. "I haven't seen him like this since his dad left."
Brin's husband had been a strong man of weak mind, who'd succumbed to drugs while on the job. That oil didn't pump itself from the ground, and he was let go for failing to show up to work. Brin had found him in the bathtub, and tried to join him – only to realize he was unconscious, and that there were needles on the floor. She called for an ambulance, and when she next saw him speak, it was the words: "Fuck you, bitch. I was just getting high."
And so they were divorced, within the year. Brody had always felt bad for Brin, being a single mother of four, and wondered how in hell she possibly managed. Her secret: she made her family do everything for her. How else does one person meet the needs of four children? She simply didn't, and when left alone with them for too long, would declare them to be nightmares reborn, terrible tyrants, and blights upon the earth. This was both expectable, and cyclical. Brody just wasn't used to being one of the hands that helped, and was wary of being enlisted into her private, babysitting army.
Brody shrugged, feeling a bit on-the-spot. "He's tuckered out."
"Hah, maybe you should be his dad instead," she joked.
Brody was uncomfortable with that, for he was yet a virgin, and had not yet so much as dated a single girl. Nor a boy, though he could not reveal that interest to his family – for they were of pretensive advocacy. They allowed themselves to say they supported the queer and diverse, but in practice, found them irritating and wasteful of their precious national space. And Brody did not want her kids, for he found them equally as terrible as she did, save for rare moments such as this. That was just when the boy snapped awake, hugged his mother's leg, and decided to jump on his brother's back to make him hurt.
Brincosa, however, hovered around. Brody could feel her warmth at a distance.
She explained, "You know, my oldest said he wanted you to replace his dad. That's why I bring it up."
Brody almost scowled. "We're cousins, and I don't know the first thing about fatherhood. Nor do I have a paycheck to help you raise them. It wouldn't help them one bit."
"I know," she smiled. "Kids just say stuff like that, sometimes. I just think it's sweet."
Then Brincosa left, and Brody felt as though he'd just been sized for a piece of meat. Or a pound of flesh. Brody decided right then and there: 'No. Innocence is not a sin. It only offends those without.'