1-800-OINK-HELP: The Hogline Hotline


It was a balmy Tuesday morning on Gruntbucket Farm when the first call came in.

RIIING… RIIING…

“Thank you for calling the Hogline Hotline, where every snort matters. This is Darlene, a licensed swine therapist. Are you in a safe pen?”

A shaky oink came through the receiver.

“This is Rufus, I… I think I’m in a mid-life trough crisis.”

“Okay Rufus, take a deep breath in through the snout, out through the jowls. Now tell me what’s troubling you.”

Rufus whimpered. “It’s the mud. It’s just not… squelchy anymore. It used to be squelchy. I used to feel something. Now it’s like I’m just rolling through the motions.”

Darlene clicked her tongue sympathetically. “Have you considered switching to organic compost mud? Studies show higher squelch satisfaction among free-range emotional porkers.”

Rufus sniffled. “Do you think I’m… bacon-worthy?”

“Rufus,” Darlene said firmly. “You are more than bacon. You are a sentient snouter with value beyond breakfast.”

Just then, another call came in.

BEEP — New Line —

“Hogline Hotline, this is Darlene, still not judging. Who’s snuffling?”

“Yeah, this is Brenda. I just wanna report an emotional support duck that keeps stealing my feed. I’m trying to do self-care, but I’m getting pecked at emotionally and literally.”

“Have you tried setting boundaries?”

Brenda paused. “I tried, but he quacks louder. I can't compete with that level of confidence.”

Darlene switched to soothing pig-whisper mode. “Repeat after me: This trough is mine. My snout deserves peace.”

Suddenly, a third line beeped in — an emergency escalation.

“Darlene, we’ve got a Code Ham.”

“Oh no.”

It was Big Stan, a 900-pound hog from Texas. Deep voice. Deep trauma.

“They moved the slop bucket again, Darlene. Without notifying me. I had to forage. Forage! Like some kind of… goat.”

Darlene sprang into action.

“Stan, I want you to focus on your happy place. Is it the cornfield? The wind tunnel behind the feed silo? The mud spa next to the llama yoga group?”

Stan grunted. “It’s the time I sat on Farmer Bob’s lawn chair and he couldn’t get up for six hours.”

“Good. Hold onto that. You own that moment.”

Meanwhile, in the background, the Hogline’s tech pig Cliff was frantically routing calls. One pig was upset about being labeled “pork-adjacent,” another felt his curly tail didn’t meet societal standards, and someone named Debbie just wanted to talk about how her pen mate won’t stop humming Taylor Swift.

“Every pen’s a battlefield,” Darlene muttered, pouring another cup of dandelion tea.

As night fell, the phones kept ringing.

Because in a world where pigs are seen as product instead of personalities, one hotline stood oink and snout above the rest.

1-800-OINK-HELP
For when life stinks, and you just need to squeal.

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