Chit’lins and stuff

I live in the country, people here eat chit’lins(chitterlings y’all), I don’t, but others do. Lots of restaurants here sell them, and have specials, such as “all you can eat chit’lin tuesday-all day”. A very good friend of mine likes chit’lins and always wants to go to the cafe on tues to get his fill- his wife wont cook them( cant imagine why), so we usually eat there once a week or so. The other day as we were dining, he was chewing on a piece that was rather tough, and it reminded me of something my grandfather told me years ago.
They had a farm, with livestock, and some crops, I helped out when I could. Every fall when it came time to butcher hogs, I always went up to help, my pay was always fresh sausage. I was often in charge of rounding the hogs up that were to be butchered, and sometimes help kill them. I asked Poppa one year why we never killed a certain rather large hog that had been around for a few years. He said ” boy, that there hog has hemorrhoids, always has, we’ve gotten about 100lbs of chit’lins off of him, and haven’t have to kill him yet.”

My friend looked at me rather sheepishly, put his fork down and pushed the plate away. I don’t think he likes chit’lins anymore.