His plot has borne fruit! Or no, not fruit. Meat. His plot has borne meat. (One of the more horrid sentences we've committed in a long time.)
Beneath the inverted smile of the Arch, the pig had cast himself on the grill that he might be transformed. From the smokestack he rises, white-gloved, having made of himself a burnt offering, to bestow the gifts of his flesh.
It's downright holy! It's like every element of western religion crammed into a bastardized, new creed! And lo! The
The ham! The ribs! Torn from a miraculously bloodless carcass, they drip with the potency of the once-alive, and the faithful dogs set upon them with gladness.
Addendum: The artist of this thing, whose work has been featured in these "pages" many times (most recently here), has a real flair for the unsavory. Could he be putting out even more influential stuff than the BBQ Logo King?