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Librería 7artes
Librería Elías (Asturias)
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The wub stood sagging, its great body settling slowly. It was sitting down, its eyes half shut. A few flies buzzed about its flank, and it switched its tail. It sat. There was silence. 'It’s a wub,' Peterson said. 'I got it from a native for fifty cents. He said it was a very unusual animal. Very respected.' 'This? It’s a pig! A huge dirty pig!' 'Yes sir, it’s a pig. The natives call it a wub.' 'A huge pig. It must weigh four hundred pounds.' Franco grabbed a tuft of the rough hair. The wub gasped. Its eyes opened, small and moist. Then its great mouth twitched. A tear rolled down the wub’s cheek and splashed on the floor. 'Maybe it’s good to eat,' Peterson said nervously. 'We’ll soon find out,' Franco said.
