"How come you call her Wanda?" he says finally.
"Oh, I dunno. I sort of named her after a ole friend of mine."
Well, after that, little Forrest seemed happier. Not so much with me, but Wanda become his constant companion. She was ready to be weaned anyhow, an Mister McGivver says it is okay with him, if it makes the boy happy.
One day it is time to truck some hogs up to Wheeling for the auction. Little Forrest helped me load them in the truck, an we set off early in the morning. Took half a day to get there, an then we got to come back for another load.
"How come you always drivin all those hogs up to Wheeling in this old truck?" he ast, which is probly the longest words he has had for me so far.
"Cause we gotta get em there, I guess. Mister McGivver's been doin it for years."
"Well, don't you know there's a railroad runs right through Coalville? Goes up to Wheeling, cause it said so when I rode in here on it. Why don't you just put the hogs on the railroad an let them take em up?"
"I dunno," I says. "Why?"
"Because you'd save time, for cryin out loud!" He looks very exasperated at me.
"What's time to a hog?" I ast.
Little Forrest just shakes his head an looks out the winder. I guess he is now figgered out that he has got a pea brain for a daddy.
"Well," I says, "maybe that is a good idea. I'll talk to Mister McGivver about it in the mornin."
But little Forrest ain't impressed. He just settin there with Wanda in his lap. Lookin kinda scared an alone.
"Fantastic!" shouts Mister McGivver. "Trains to carry the hogs to auction! It'll save us thousands! Why in hell didn't I think of that!"
He is so excited he's about to bust, an he picks up little Forrest an give him a big ole hug. "You're a genius, my boy! Why, we're all gonna be rich!"
Anyhow, Mister McGivver give us both a raise an let us have Sunday an Saturday off, an so on weekends I'd take little Forrest down to Coalville to Etta's diner an we'd get to talk to the ole miners an other folks that come around. They bein real nice to little Forrest, an he is all the time astin them questions about stuff. It weren't a bad way to spend the summer, actually, an as the weeks gone by I felt that little Forrest an me is gettin somewhat closer.
Meantime, Mister McGivver is tryin to solve a very messy problem, namely, what we gonna do with all the pig shit that is pilin up as our operation expands? By now, we has got more than ten thousan hogs, an that number is expandin ever day. By the end of the year, Mister McGivver say we ought to have upwards of twenty-five thousan hogs an, at about two pounds of pig shit per hog per day... well, you can see where this is leadin to.
Anyways, Mister McGivver is sellin the hog shit for manure at a pretty fast clip, but at this point he is about run out of folks to buy it, an besides, the folks in town are complainin louder an louder about the smell we are creatin.
"We could try to burn it," I says.
"Hell, Gump, they already bitchin about the odor as it is. How you think they'd react to a bonfire of fifty thousand pounds of pig shit ever day?"
Over the next few days we kicked around a few more ideas, but ain't none of them gonna work, an then one night at the supper table when the conversation turned to pig shit again, little Forrest piped up.
"I been thinkin," he says, "suppose we use it to generate power?"
"Do what?" ast Mister McGivver.
"Look here," Little Forrest says, "we got that big ole coal seam runnin right underneath our property...."
"What makes you think that?" says Mister McGivver.
"Cause one of the miners tole me so. He says the coal mine goes for nearly two miles from where the entrance is in town right across this land where the hogs are, and stops just before it gets to the swamp."
"Is that so?"
"It's what he tole me," little Forrest says. "Now, looka here..." He pulls out a composition book he has brought an lays it out on the table. When he opens it up, damned if it don't contain some of weirdest drawins I have ever seen, but it look like little Forrest might have saved our asses again.
"My God!" Mister McGivver hollers after he has looked at the drawins. "This is wonderful! First rate! You deserve a Nobel Prize, young man!"
What little Forrest has come up with is this: First we plug up the entrance to the coal mine back in town. Next, we drill holes down to the shaft under our property an bulldoze the pig shit into it ever day. After a while, the pig shit will begin to ferment an give off methane gas. Once that happens, we have a vent for the gas that runs through some kind of machinery an stuff that little Forrest has figgered out, an in the end winds up in a big ole generator that will produce enough power not only to run our farm, but it will run the power for the whole town of Coalville!
"Just think of it," Mister McGivver shouts, "a whole city run on pig shit! And furthermore, it's so simple an idiot can run it!" I am not so sure about this last statement.
Well, that was just the beginnin. It took the rest of the summer to get the operation goin. Mister McGivver had to talk to the city fathers, but they come up with a government grant to let us start the deal. Pretty soon we got all sorts of engineers an drillers an EPA people an equipment drivers an construction workers millin around on the farm, an people are installin the machinery in a big ole blockhouse they built. Little Forrest is named "honorary chief engineer." He is so proud, he is about to bust!
I gone on about my duties sloppin hogs an cleanin barns an pens an so on, but one day Mister McGivver comes an says for me to get the bulldozer, because it is time to start shovelin the pig shit into the mine shaft. I worked at that bidness for a week or so, an when I am done, they put a big mechanical seal over the holes they has drilled an little Forrest say now all we got to do is set an wait. That afternoon as the sun begins to go down, I watched him disappear over a little hill that leads down to the swamp, ole Wanda trottin along beside him. She's gettin big now, an so is he, an I ain't never been prouder of anythin in my life.
A week or two later, when it is almost the end of summer, little Forrest come an say it is finally time to start up the pig-shit-power operation. He took Mister McGivver an me into the blockhouse just before dark, where there is a big heap of machinery with a bunch of pipes an dials an gauges, an he begun to explain to us how the thing works.
"First," he says, "the methane gas is released from the mine shaft through this pipe, an a flame ignites it here." He points to what look like a big ole hot water heater. "Then," he says, "the condenser gets the steam compressed an it turns this generator, which makes electricity that moves out through these wires, and that's where the power comes from." He stands back, grinnin from ear to ear.
"This is wonderful!" cries Mister McGivver. "Edison, Fulton, Whitney, Einstein - none of them have done better!"
Little Forrest suddenly begun turnin valves an handles an thowin switches, an pretty soon the needles on the pressure gauges begun to climb an the meters on the wall begun to turn around. All of a sudden, lights flickerd on in the blockhouse an we is all jumpin for joy. Mister McGivver rushes outside an begun to holler - all the lights in the house an barns be on, bright as day, an in the distance we can see lights comin on in Coalville, too.
"Eureeka!" shouts Mister McGivver. "We have turned a sow's ear into a silk purse, an we are now eatin high on the hog!"
Anyhow, next day little Forrest got me back into the blockhouse an begun showin me how the operation ran. He explained all the valves an gauges an meters, an after a while, they didn't seem so hard to understand. I just had to check it all once a day an make sure that one or two of the gauges was not registerin more than they should be, an that this or that valve was turned on or off. I guess Mister McGivver was right, even a idiot like me could run this thing.
"There is somethin else I been thinkin about," little Forrest says at supper that night.
"What is that, my brilliant lad?" says Mister McGivver.
"Well, I been thinking. You said you were having to slow down the breeding a little bit cause there are just so many hogs you can sell in Wheeling and the other places around here."
"That is correct."
"So what I'm thinking is, why not ship the hogs overseas? South America, Europe - even China?"