Bonfire of the Beasts

By Scott Reardon

Bonfire of the Beasts is the satire of our time. Controversial and savagely funny, it’s the story of animals who rise up against their human oppressors and attempt to create a society free of bigotry and hate. What unfolds is a depiction of the all-too-human way in which sympathy and love can pave the way for unimaginable horrors.

In his fourth novel, Scott Reardon has depicted the outer limits of ideology, belief and social power.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott Reardon
• Release date: Dec 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9798985365504

Book preview

1

Years ago —long before many of the animals had been born—a cow managed to hide a chalkboard in the barn. On special occasions, the few animals that were literate would scrawl announcements to the other animals on the board. Absolutely anyone was free to write anything, which only added to the mystery of what the animals found written on the board one morning.

What’s it say? Jumper, a local rabbit, asked Mother Goose, who wasn’t a goose but a magnificent swan.

A pig is coming from far away to speak to us tonight. Saying it out loud only made her even more curious herself.

What does that mean?

I don’t know.

Well, who wrote it?

I’m afraid I don’t know that either.

Mother Goose smiled at Jumper attempting to calm him because sometimes when he got worked up, he’d stress-poop rabbit pellets.

Stop looking at me like that, Jumper said, detecting her concern. I can control myself. And he hopped away.

That day, the animals polled one another, and it seemed that no one had written a message on the chalkboard. This only further heightened the intrigue surrounding the mysterious visitor who would be paying their farm a visit that very night.

At sunset, Mr. Midland, the man who owned the farm, entertained guests with his wife, which only meant one thing. The whole group would get rip-roaring drunk. The husbands would laugh their belly laughs and tell jokes, half of which ended with someone falling and accidentally getting something inserted up his rectum. Meanwhile the wives would discuss who’d gotten divorced and—most importantly—who’d gotten fat. It was the wives who bothered Mother Goose the most. The women she admired most in her own life—her mother and grandmother—had a calming wisdom about them. They stood for something. But these human women were frivolous and greedy as only a creature that has absolutely stuffed itself with cheap pleasure can be. Worst of all, they were very attuned to social rank, and they always glared at the farm animals as if on guard for any lack of respect.

Fortunately the group got so drunk so early that the guests were gone by nine, and Mr. Midland and his wife were in their beds shortly thereafter. As if on cue, lights appeared in the Mormon Wood to the north. A procession moved through the eerie old forest until a caravan of animals emerged onto the pasture.

The procession consisted of six pigs carrying a litter that held the thinnest pig anyone had ever seen. All the farm animals watched in awe. Everyone knew that pigs ate like, well, pigs. But this one was different. His diet, Mother Goose speculated, must have been almost entirely grain-free.

When the procession arrived in the barnyard, no member of the procession made eye contact or spoke. In almost holy silence, they filed into the barn, where they laid down the litter carrying the leader and stood at attention.

The rest of the animals streamed into the barn then. First it was the three horses, Tex, Milly and Dancer, who settled their enormous bodies down on the straw. Then came the smaller animals, the mice, the chickens and the geese. Following them were the sheep, the pigs, and the dogs. Everyone tensed when the dogs entered because they’d bark or erupt into spontaneous play at the slightest provocation and everyone was worried they’d cause a scene. Last of all, the semi-domesticated animals came: the cat, a few birds and several squirrels filed in the back.

When all were seated, the pig on the stretcher rose.

My friends, he said, years ago I visited this farm. Some of you may even recognize me. My name is Emilio Reginald. I was prize boar for some time, and it was during the period when I was man’s champion that I truly came to know his ways. And what I have learned from man is that we must become his opposite. Man produces nothing. Physically he’s the weakest of all the creatures in the animal kingdom. Meanwhile everything he requires to survive he must take from something else. His fragile skin must be covered by our hides. His sensitive stomach must be filled with food that he can pull from the earth only with our labor. He does no actual work himself, yet man is the richest, most powerful animal on earth. Do you know why?

No one spoke. But the farm animals all leaned forward imperceptibly.

"Man has invented the most powerful force on this planet: ideology. It’s with this that he enslaves us and justifies his enslavement. It’s with this that he gets us to enslave ourselves.

"And what, brothers and sisters, is the nature of that enslavement?

"You dogs in the back, how does the farmer’s wife treat you? When you’re puppies and you excite her primitive maternal instincts, she lavishes you with affection as though you were her children. And then when you reach maturity, she mutilates your genitals so you cannot have a family of your own. You chickens they inject with so many steroids so that eggs come screaming out of your cloacas like they’re on one of man’s assembly lines. I won’t even comment on the rumors we’ve all heard about what they do to calves to produce veal.

"Deep down, we all know what we are to man: his property. And let me ask you this. What is man truly? What does he do? He doesn’t create. He doesn’t shepherd or steward. He simply talks. And his words enchant us right into his dog collars, his harnesses and often right onto his dinner plate!

Brothers and sisters, you’re wondering how such a creature could live with itself. Man does this, without a stab of conscience, due to one fatal flaw. He has no concept of equality. He doesn’t view us as creatures sharing in existence on this planet with him. He views us as food, slave labor and—he pointed at the dogs—a source of amusement. And we all know the jokes they tell about the definition of a cow—that it’s just life support for a cheeseburger.

A great murmur went from the cows. Emilio Reginald paused to let it die down.

My friends, I am dying. Once I fell ill, I realized something terrible: from the moment we’re born, all of us are marked for death. But there’s something we can do about it. Is Mr. Pickwick in attendance?

The old pig stood waiting until an unusually old rat stood on his hind legs.

"When my associates and I were making preparations to visit your farm, we met Mr. Pickwick in the woods. There is perhaps no creature in this world as scorned and hated as a rat. But did any of know that Mr. Pickwick lost fifty-six beloved children last year? Did any of you know that when Mr. Midland began recycling two years ago Mr. Pickwick lost his food source and had to live in the old latrine with his wife and twenty-three children? Mr. Pickwick sings to those children at night, a spectacle which brought tears to my associates’ eyes. And yet we’re told the rat is a heartless predatory animal, a vector for disease. Ask yourselves this: cui bono? Who benefits from this propaganda?

"Man, of course.

He wants you terrified of each other and ratting on each other left and right. The old pig stopped and turned to the rats. I apologize for using that slur, friends. You can see the degree to which man’s ideology can infect even the most defiant mind. But make no mistake. Right now, on other farms, animals are rising up and demanding an end to the bigotry and hate. Social progress is reaching its final stage, one of equality between the species. And man has a choice: either to accept this equality or be destroyed by it.

Some of the animals were nodding.

That brings me to how you defeat man—by becoming his opposite. You defeat him as you shame him: through love, through empathy for each other. It’s those things that will give you the greatest power of all: the power of numbers. As individuals, you are nothing. But as a group, you shall rise up and retake the earth.

The animals all cheered. Some burst into tears. It was spontaneous. They all almost couldn’t help it. And just as quickly their eyes darted to the farmer’s house to make sure no human had stirred.

It’s precisely that, brothers and sisters, the old pig said, sensing their fear, which we must fight with all we have to end.

Emilio Reginald and his associates began to leave.

The other animals didn’t speak, but their silence wasn’t passive. It contained a dammed-up pride that ached to be set free. They watched the majestic old pig hobble to his stretcher, where