I walked along the fence and peered into the farm house. There sat Napoleon, the pigs, and the neighboring farmers playing a friendly game of cards. I could hear laughing and chatting, they had glasses of beer at their sides. I turned around to see a truck pass by and immediately turned back around, they men had started fighting with the pigs. From what I could see, one of the men's mouths had spoken "cheater". I was not surprised because of Napoleon's reputation. They had started yelling in each others faces. I could tell the fight was getting very heated. The men and pigs tried to hold each other back, but it was no use. Napoleon had messed everything up. The pigs started to look different, they had started to resemble the humans. On the other side of the house I could see the other animals could see it too. The pigs had become just like humans. The farm had made a full circle from ruled by Jones, to ruled by Napoleon, who is the pig version of Jones. I started to feel my stomach drop. I ran and ran far away from the farm in order to get the image out of my head. There was no use in trying to save the farm. Napoleon has dug the farm so deep that it might not be able to get out of this kind of rule. I could feel anger running through my bones. I should have ruled.
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It has been quite a while since the incident I wrote about last. I had forgotten about Boxer, on special occasions I would think about him. I realized that now the farm is definitely starving. This would have never happened with me. As I walk around the farm, the animals are suffering in their sleep. They have grown weak and frail. Many of the original animals have died now. There is a new generation. I have decided to call it the starving generation. We would never starve with Jones, we were usually fed, not enough, but fed. I realize now that we were never starving, we were simply hungry. One day while I spied on the farm, I heard the sheep chanting something. "Four legs good, two legs better!" I looked closely at the barn only to find that the pigs walked out on their hind legs dressed in Jones' old clothing he had left behind. The pigs held a whip in one hand as they walked in-between the line of animals, frightening them to death. The pigs glared forward as if I was standing in front of them. One of the pigs walked over to the side of the barn and painted on the wall, "All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others". I was so horrified, when did we become humans?
Terrible things are happening. As I was walking along the fence towards the entrance, I saw a truck stop in front of the entrance to the farm. I immediately ducked behind a bush and peered through the branches, a man came out and walked over to Boxer and patted Boxers back. The man closed the doors to the back and got into the from seat. By then all the animals had gathered to the entrance and waved Boxer a goodbye. Boxer in the van, waved goodbye as well. I quickly scanned the side of the van. "Slaughter" was what stood out to be. A wave of emotions rolled over me. "You fools!" I heard Benjamin cry, he started to yell at the, "Don't you see? He is being taken to the knackers!" I lifted my head in hopes that Boxer would hear this and try to get out. Clover ran towards the moving van, she screamed at him to get out. Suddenly Boxer understood and pounded the back of the door with all his might. Boxer never got out. I could no longer see the van. I started to collapse in the bush and cried to myself silently. Napoleon did this... that idiot of a pig did this! How could he be so cruel? What president sends of his hardest worker to the knackers? I was sobbing by then, no one could repair the hole I had in my heart for Boxer.
The smell I smelled the yesterday was so divine. It came from the house! It was barley! Those selfish pigs... keeping such luxuries for themselves, when they see clearly that everyone else is starving? There was enough barley and good mash for everyone to last the next day! Napoleon demanded that all the barley had to be set aside for the pigs. This is horrible. I can not believe the things Napoleon is doing. Napoleon made the farm Republic, so they had to elect a president, which of course was Napoleon himself. In other news, that bird, Moses is back, from what I hear once again he is squawking about "Sugarcandy Mountain! " Will he never understand that there is no "Sugarcandy Mountain? " I get so aggravated with Moses. Boxer has gotten better, I am happy for him, he has been working too hard in my opinion. I believe the goal is to get all of the stones for the windmill before he retires. Boxer needs to retire now. When I was on the farm, the retiring ages were very reasonable. Now, they are literally, work till you drop dead. Napoleon is running this farm just like Jones did. The pigs are now getting rations of beer, for Napoleon, it's a whole gallon. No one is supposed to drink alcohol. Apparently, it seems as if the rules were read wrong. More like changed, that is what is wrong. It is "No drinking alcohol to excess! " What rubbish!
I watched from the outside. Poor Boxer was being worked to the brink of death and all that with his crippled hoof. Boxer truly is a great horse. I commend his determination. Boxer is always saying I will work to death, his last wish was to finish the windmill. I thought about Boxer as I sat along the old fence. The winter has gotten worse these past few months. Napoleon has tricked the animals into thinking that everything is splendid, but it's not. From what I could tell was that there were more sows and the population increased from when I was there. Last night when I snuck onto the farm I overheard the pigs talking about a new rule, if any animal is walking on a path and comes across a pig, they must stand aside. The pigs and other animals are being segregated, the young are punished for playing with any other animal except pigs. I can tell they are running out of money. They finished a school house, however the windmill is not done. Napoleon is messing with priorities. They have increased the egg count to 600 eggs to be sold per week, they hens are barely making enough eggs to keep their population up. Many things have been sold, hay and a large amount of their potato crop. If I would have stayed there I could have prevented this! I have very harsh feelings towards Napoleon at the moment. I smell something know coming from the farm, I am off to investigate, for if I am going to be the one to save this farm I must be aware of all its happenings.
As a harsh winter came along, those animals worked like fools. They forgot many a things, such as doing the proper technique while farming, which caused a low food supply. I was pleased to hear this, maybe now they are pleading for Napoleon to come crawling back to me. There is a man named Mr. Whymper and he checks the farm every week in order to see if the farm is in good shape and he reports to the others. So far it "seems", they have had no food shortages. I know what Napoleon is doing, he is fooling the man with sand at the bottom of the barrels in order to deceive him. They have started giving up the hens eggs to Mr. Whymper at the rate of 400 eggs a week. They say that the pay will keep them alive until the winter ends. Napoleon is playing his dirty games, he has ordered that no grain is to be fed to the hens, at least that is what I have over-heard. What kind of animal starves others in order to get what he wants? I am so upset by this and I can feel myself becoming more angry and aggitated by the day. Napoleon must get his act together soon, the farm is suffering, it is not the farm I am against, it is Napoleon.
The pompous idiot Napoleon had a poem written about him! Do these misguided animals ever stop to wonder "Why on earth are we hailing this pig when all he has done is make us suffer?!" He goes and negotiates with those dumb humans and he does not even do it properly. Here I am complaining about him again but I see no other way to get my frustration out. I have heard he is trying to sell a pile of wood to Frederick. At the same time, there were also rumors of an impending attack from the same farm! Goodness! This was not business! Napoleon needed to be rid of. I’d devised a plan to have him killed, but my pigeons who were sent to do the deed confessed! Oh their bless poor souls, because now they are dead. More blood on the hands of Napoleon. Of course, now Napoleon had taken extra measures to ensure his safety. Just to think, my plan could have worked! Napoleon is still failing at trying to create business with our neighboring farms and I have no interests in getting too involved, so long as the farm is not attacked. The animals went into a frenzy when the news of the upcoming attack reached their ears, until Squealer assured them Napoleon had some clever idea. More likely than not I was sure he was bluffing about a clever idea. I am simply at a loss for what to do at this point. Can the broken be mended if I have no adhesive?
The attack came yesterday. Too much blood and too many lives lost. I was only there to witness the last half. I saw enough for me to have nightmares. It was ridiculous. Oh and the windmill! The beautiful windmill, blown to pieces with only the base barely in shape. I heard the animals cry and I too even cried a little. Every single animal had a battle scar. They were a terrible reminder of this tragic day. Then a gunshot was fired. I can’t believe that Squealer actually fired a gun in honor of the day. He said it was for our victory! What victory may I ask, because all this was, was a blood bath. Mollie and I had been talking for a long while about what to and we had drawn a blank. The animals all thought they were living a perfectly wondrous life, with only one person to "thank". Napoleon. I have been thinking about this for a very long while and I am thoroughly exhausted. The fesitvites have been going on for the past two days for nothing. Napoleon bestowed upon himself another award. On top of all this, the pigs found whiskey. They were said to be sick, but I knew he was drunk. The animals were crying in fear for their “beloved master”. There is no more I can do. Everything is falling apart. I heard the murmurs of confused animals one night, the crashing of a pail, snapping of wood, barking of dogs, and it was then I saw that Squealer was changing the commandments. My fellow comrades were being fooled time after time, behaving the same way, behaving like robots. perserverance and Determination The pigeons have been spreading so many messages it is confusing. Some times it is death to one farmer, and then death to another. As of now it is death to Frederick. I was able to sneak into Animal Farm last night and put weed seeds among their barley seeds. Well, I actually had a fellow comrade help me. I needed the animals to question how Napoleon could have let this happen. Oh but the poor fellow felt so guilty he confessed and committed suicide. My guilt level is rising. My title of “Animal Hero” is only but a legend. Autumn has arrived fairly quickly and at last the windmill was finished! The machinery was yet to be installed but it was still a great accomplishment. Unsurprisingly Napoleon named it “Napoleon Mill”. It is quite a shock that I have been living alone in this woods. I feel so independent, yet dependent of Mollie. I know it was quite a shock for me too. She actually brings me food from her farm, just some apples or milk. It's enough to get me by though. Napoleon has played the animals by selling the wood to Frederick and bestowing his hatred upon Pilkington. Squealer of course portrayed this action as cleverness. Later during the week when Whymper came running back toward the farm, it was found the bills were fake! I can not help but laugh at this sight of such a chaotic farm. I realize now I am getting old, and do not know what more to do, but perseverance and determination is always rewarded.
The haunting of the executions still lingered in my mind. How could he be so ruthless? I sat in my usual spying spot at the south edge of the farm and I watched today. I sat and I saw something not right. The commandments. They looked so different. More wordy, and less concise. Had they been changed? Yes! I have come to the conclusion that yes indeed they have been changed. How disgusting of him to do this and kill my poor comrades now. To say I am feeling guilty is a huge understatement. I notice how observant I am becoming as I spy on my farm. Every Sunday morning Squealer reads out a list of figures with the proof of a supposed increase in production. I feel so frustrated that these animals are being blinded by stupid words. They can not see what is really happening on their farm. I mean, they are simply dandy with the fact that Napoleon acts like an almighty lord. His dogs guarded him, he took his fancy dinners alone, and he had a gun fired on his birthday now. Humph! I can not bear to see this happen. I need to help them. ruthless beast Napoleon is truly a beast. He has had the animals confess. They must confess to their crimes, and he slaughtered all of them. It seems like there was a pile of bodies equivalent to the mound of logs the animals have tried to trade. All of this I know because I witnessed it, they think I am on neighboring farms all the time, when on contrary I am walking around the fences of the farm. Boxer got attacked a little while ago! The dogs had gone after him but Boxer had dodged them and caught one in the air, except he let him go. Napoleon is a fool if he wants to let one of his hardest workers go to die. As I strolled around I could hear the sorrow tune of "Beasts of England" coming from the hill top, the one voice that stood out to me, was Clovers. However, this tune was interrupted by the high-pitched voice of Squealer. I could over-hear little snippets of it. They had been taught a new song, this one was more lively, it was not very good at all. It was only two lines. Napoleon was officially betraying Old Major. This is not what he would have wanted. Old Major would have wanted "Beasts of England". Old Major would have lead us into the best years of this farm. Old Major was betrayed. From then on, not another lyric of "Beasts of England" came out of the farm.
I am very pleased with myself and all the things I have managed to trample on the Animal Farm. However, the animals have found out that I am breaking the eggs, stealing corn, tossing milk pails, and tramping upon the farm land. I am not sure how to feel about this though, I am happy yet upset that they know of my plans. My goal was to get the animals to question Napoleon's security and how well he is maintaining the farm. I intended to be secretive about this, but somehow the word got out. I have investigated and found out that the animals are going to trade the pile of timber that Jones had cut down around a year ago to one of the neighboring farms. I have since then, went from farm to farm trying to steer them away from valuable trade, I do not want them to get their hands on anything that could possibly move them in the right direction. Since then, I have been talking with the Pinchfield farm to plan something that will help me get rid of Napoleon, I will be the guide once the day comes upon us. As I walked through the farms at night, I over heard some meetings and the have discovered that I have been "teamed up" with Jones. Apparently they are as not stupid as they seem, but even more stupid! I could not believe my ears I had my own vision but these fools were to too dumb to see it. I have been on my own team for a while, now it's just a matter of gaining team members.
It's a hard life living out of a farm, it's okay though, because I can watch upon everything that the poor animals are doing. They have kept trading with the neighboring farms, idiots. I wonder what ever happened to the four legs good, two legs bad? I snuck in last night and look at the "Seven Commandments", it stated that no animal can sleep in a bed with sheets. This is not right. Napoleon is definitely going to ruin this farm, I just know it. All this time, in the back of my mind, I was so right. Now when I get exiled I don't get a chance to help out! I needed to show them that I was still alive and willing to help them fight this battle. I could not be brought down, a force as powerful as me cannot be defeated by exile! I talked to one of the neighboring farms and asked them for one man to come with me in the middle of the night, I had to bribe him with money I took from the farm house while all of the pigs were gone. I told him to shoot directly at the center of the windmill, at midnight, so he did. The deed was done. I smiled in happiness as I heard the gunshot go off the pile of rocks tumble to the ground. I could NOT be taken down, even from the outside, I will destroy Napoleon and save this farm.
I have listened in upon some of the happenings at Animal Farm by spying upon them from behind the trees. My means of survival is not yet defined but I’m not worried about that. I am worried about my fellow comrades. I hear some animals protest that I fought bravely at the battle of cowshed, but Squealer silences them saying that bravery is not enough. This is enough to make tears prick at the corners of my small pig eyes. A pig I called my friend and comrade, come to make a fool out of me. I hear from the pigeons flying above that the Sunday morning meetings are big canceled too. I am so disgusted right now. Everyone has been made to think of me as a criminal. Not as the one who wanted the best for my comrades. My pigeon friends keep bringing me news saying that Napoleon is going through with the windmill. He is even taking credit! My banishment for nothing! Out of jealousy and hatred?! I ran back to my makeshift underbrush home and wailed. I didn’t care who heard. I wailed and wailed at the sight of my fellows failing, at all my hard work gone to waste, at Old Major’s dream zapped to dust. Everything was changing. Everything was wrong. I've learned with all this drama going on that even when we are truthfully right, a simple comment can change the minds of so many, and turn you into something you're not.
The animals have been spreading “Vote Snowball and the three day week!”, and “Vote for Napoleon and a full manger!” I don’t know how to feel. I’m so tired. This dispute over the windmill has been driving me slowly to just give up, but that is not who I am. Not only is the windmill bothering me, but the safety of Animal Farm. In the back of everyone’s minds I know that they have been thinking about another attach that could possibly occur. Even I am worried that those mongrels will come back to try and take the farm again. I believe that we need to spark rebellion in animals everywhere. This way we can all come together and fight. Napoleon of course has a different idea. He thinks we need to defend our selves bearing arms! That is ludicrous. We do not need to be instilling violence into our fellow comrades. We meet at a debate to speak of everything. We argue for a while and I do not expect what comes next to happen. When I tell you this my great fellows, do not feel pity or sorry because I take this action with head held high and my heart still pure. Nine dogs chased after me running me across the farm. Where had the come from? They were the puppies that Napoleon had taken from their parents soon after they were born, only to train them to be like this. I ran through the hedge and trotted quickly into the underbrush of a tree where I sit now. Do even the best of us, with even the best intentions, have to suffer because of someone else’s wrong? Yes. Napoleon is a monster.
We had never fought so much over a petty improvement idea ever. The windmill was the source of our fallout. I don’t understand why Napoleon was being so rude and ignorant. We had worked well together before. What had changed? Had I changed? This windmill would help the animals have heated stalls, a luxury only dreamt of. Oh and hot and cold water whenever we wanted, it would be better than the Sugarcandy Mountain Moses had spoken of. I have been drawing out all of my plans on the floor of an old shed and I am proud to say they are almost complete. I had been reading books from the farmhouse guiding me through my visions. Everyone usually came by to watch me work on my windmill ideas. Yesterday, I never thought Comrade Napoleon would go this far, but to urinate over someones precious hard work. Now I found this in the most disrespectful manner a cowardly act. If he was so afraid of my ideas, then he should have brainstormed his own, jealousy is a terrible trait in someone who calls themself a leader. I am aware that the farm is divided on the on the idea of the windmill, because no doubt there will have to be great amounts of laborious hours and work ahead. I have firm belief that this is only going to help the farm and not in any way will it work them to death. Optimism is a wonderful thing if only you can instill it upon animals who have been painted over with pessimism.
Winter was all too bitter I tell you. I’ve been so busy lately with preparations for my new ideas and such. Animals have been working their tails off in this harshest of conditions. All except Mollie, that annoying horse. I could not stand that she was so oblivious to the hardships of everyone around her. Clover even told me she saw Mollie being stroked and fed sugar from of of Pilkington’s men. When approached she had the nerve to deny this. Ha! At this Clover went to Mollie’s stall to find ribbons and sugar under her hay. Mollie disappeared three days later. I didn’t give it a thought. My fellow pigs and I have been meeting more frequently to talk about ways to improve the farm. However there has been serious tension between Napoleon and I. It seems to me that he does not want to listen to any other idea besides his own. The selfish boar. We had not agreed upon anything in the longest while. We both had our strengths and weaknesses when it came to speaking and getting the animals to see our point of views. I have been thinking of so many inventions that could help to better our farm in ways my comrades think unimaginable. Field drains, silage, and many other schemes were in progress in my mind. If only they would be fully on board with my ideas. Napoleon kept telling them this could never work, but I was sure it would. Is it just me, or are the people around me changing, especially Napoleon?
Summer days have gone by so fleetingly. Our dear old farm has been in wonderful shape lately. With the recent education of our animals, the marvelous harvest, and the studies we pigs have been doing, this is year is bound to be prosperous. Napoleon and I have been meeting with the pigeons every morning in hopes they can spread our message of the greatness of Animal Farm and “Beasts of England”, to animals all across the county side. From our fellow pigeons we have heard that the farmers have been feeling quite some tension about their farm animals learning our ways. I feel quite elated. This is the exact response we want from them. Mr. Pilkington and Mr. Fredrick, our neighboring farmers, are polar opposites when it comes to running a farm, but I know they have both been extremely watchful in our farm and its happenings. Knowing this, I am a bit apprehensive about our security measures. Not only that, but I have been watching the animals to make sure everyone is loyal to Animal Farm and I am pleased with how many are, but there may traitor and we can not afford those. I’ll take it into my own hands and make plans and preparations, should there be a battle to happen. I have been studying some of Julius Caesar’s campaigns found in the farmhouse. The whole situation makes me feel wary. On top of that Napoleon and I have only come to find a worsening spot in our relationship. Camaraderie is what we enforce at Animal Farm, but to ensure the success of all of us shouldn’t we be open-minded and at least try to see eye to eye?
I decided that this place would need order. I had set up all of the animals into what I proudly call the "Animal Committees." The committees I formed were grouped by the breed of animal. There was the "Egg Production Committee", the "Clean Tails League", the "Whiter Wool Movement", and many others. I also created the "Wild Comrades Re-Education Committee". The point for this was to educate other animals. As I tried my hardest, these projects were not successful. I kept saying if everyone would cooperate, it would be the best thing that ever happened to the farm! No one believes me. They keep saying that I could never make this work. They all follow that stupid Napoleon. He will run this farm into the ground. On a happier note, our reading and writing courses were very successful, almost every animal on the farm is able to read, at least to a certain degree. Us pigs could read and write perfectly, this was because of us reading Jones' books behind all the other animals' backs. Boxer was able to pick up the first four letters of the alphabet, Clover knew all of it, but could not form the words. Mollie on the other hand, that selfish horse, she would only learn the letters of her own name! It does not make sense to me how some animals can be so self centered.
The long awaited battle we had predicted came my great fellows. Yesterday there was a brilliant effort shown by the animal kind who stood, fought, and died so valiantly for our farm. The pride in my animals was swelling my heart so big I was sure it would burst. Wounds? Yes many wounded. Even I managed to escape with some battle scars. The grazing of bullets across my back is the proof. Fatalities? Yes, but only one. May her soul rest in peace. A dear old sheep was taken yesterday. We grieve her so. The battle came upon us when Pilkington’s men, Fredrick’s men, and our own Jones and his men came marching up to the farm sticks in hand. The poor soul that called himself the master of the farm wanted to take it back. What a joke. He thinks that with a gun he can scare us. We, The Beasts of England? No, we fought. The birds and geese were first. I shouted commands every which way. Then we went in again with the sheep. Of course the simply batted us off with their stick but it was enough to get them woozy. It was then that the attack I had been working on for days was going to commence. At the sound of my squeal horses and cows ambushed the lot from their hidden spot in the cowshed. Oh how they ran back!! The animals recollected and poor old Boxer thought he had taken a stable boy’s life. Turned out he was just stunned. We rejoiced. I was even rewarded “Animal Hero, First Class” along with Boxer. Our dead sheep was given the same award except “Second Class”. What a wonderful day it was yesterday. Today shall be even greater. The Battle of Cowshed is never to be forgotten. Fitting name correct?
Now that we were our own, we did all of the labor that the humans would have done, but we did it better. The pride of seeing the animals working smoothly shone through me, we did this, together. I always kept a watchful eye of the animals to make sure they were doing their work and gave my reports to Napoleon. We established "The Meeting", in these gatherings and all we would do was talk about jobs, and we solved problems that had come forth to stand in our way. These meetings ended in our singing of "Beasts of England". After the meeting, we pigs got together and made the room where all the harness' were stored, ours. In the evenings when everyone was asleep, we would get together and study blacksmithing, carpentering, and many other things that would be needed for the farm. We also studied other arts of the kind. We had gotten these books from Jones' house. Who knew that such a stupid man could have such great books? Once this was over, we would go to sleep and repeat the next day. I was not sure about this whole situation, I feel that we should have let the other animals read these books also, we would not all be on the same level, maybe thats Napoleon's goal... Napoleon and I seem to be arguing a lot lately, I can't help it, his ideas are so... wrong.
Birds can be so picky. They were complaining about the "Seven Commandments" and they said that they only had two legs. I had to explain to the idiotic birds that their wings counted, so therefore, they were okay and were comrades. I said that the human hand did all the harm, and anything that does not have a hand, is a comrade. We pigs decided to write something where the "Seven Commandments" were written, we tried to simplify the writing for anyone who could not read all of it. "Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad" is what we inscribed. The main idea summed up into one little sentence, not bad, huh? The sheep were very fond of it, they keep bleating it repeatedly. Its great that they are very invested in the saying. The two female dogs, Jessie, and Bluebell gave birth to nine puppies. Napoleon immediately took them away to raise them himself and not a cry of protest was heard. Napoleon also demanded that all of the apples that had fallen on the ground be given to us, the pigs, Even Napoleon and I agreed on this. The animals had murmured but it was no use, it had already been decided. Having power is a great thing.
I am fond of these commandments and honestly proud. Napoleon set out telling all of the animals to finish the harvest much quicker than Jones' men could. The cows needed to be milked as well, because it had seemed to be an eternity since they have been released. At the end of the day we sat with five buckets of frothy milk. The animals all told Napoleon how Farmer Jones used to incorporate it into their meals while he just dismissed them saying he would take care of it. I too agreed, and commenced taking the animals out again to finish the last of the hay harvest. I watched carefully over the animals while they harvested in order to creat a good report for Napoleon. What I, and all the others, were thinking when we got back however, was where on Earth could the milk have gone? For it had disappeared with out a trace. Could I be the only one sensing something not right on the farm? In Animalism all animals were equal and fair, and that is how all life should be. Although in this case I am now quite sure that if one of the most influential of us is not abiding, then what is to make of the Animal Farm.
I couldn't believe our luck those few nights ago. It was marvelous what we had accomplished. We proceeded not long after our victory to demolish the harnesses that kept us tied to the human race. We destroyed nosebags, reins, halters, whips and burned them. We feasted on newfound food, and sang "Beasts of England" through and through. As the sun rose we looked out upon all that was ours. Ours. The animals enjoyed themselves ravishing in their freedom. We went into the farmhouse. Disgusted we didn't touch anything. However, and again unsurprisingly, we found Mollie admiring Mrs. Jones' fine ribbons. I reprimanded her and went on to bury the meats and Boxer to drain the beer. We unanimously agreed to never live here or touch this place again. Napoleon then announced the long day ahead of us full of harvest. We pigs then decided it best to share what we had seceretly been doing all these nights. We had been learning to read and write. We also shared that we had put the principles of Animalism into seven simple commandments. Squealer shared that these Seven Commandments would be inscribed upon a wall, which no longer said "Manor Farm", but "Animal Farm". I took up the job of writing these Seven Commandments.
1. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy. 2. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend. 3. No animal shall wear clothes 4. No animal shall sleep in a bed. 5. No animal shall drink alcohol. 6. No animal shall kill any other animal 7. All animals are equal. Neglect. That is what I had been feeling. In fact I'm sure if you asked the whole farm right at this very moment in time they would agree that we were being neglected. Farmer Jones, the master of the farm, had the nerve to come home intoxicated, with the most poor excuses for workers to take care of our ratty old farm. You daren't ask about the rant I'd given to some of my comrades. Last night we could not bare it anymore so we snuck into the store-shed. There wasn't any other option, we hadn't been fed in the longest while. We were giddy at the sight of our food. With all the commotion, its just then that the bastard and his employees woke from their drunken slumber. They hit us with whips and rashly they acted, so idiotically oblivious to the reasons behind our actions. We decided that no longer were we going to stand for this. It was all too much for us to bear. So we rebelled we thrashed, kicked, and pushed them so far back that the five of them ran down the main road, screaming at the sight of the many enraged animals. I glanced from the corner of my eye at the horrified Mrs. Jones who scurried off with only a suitcase, and not surprisingly, that odd bird Moses. I chuckle as I recall this, tell me now, wouldn't you laugh at this situation?
I am willing to enforce Animalism, but the foolish acts of my fellow comrades lead me to believe they are not as strongly rooted in these principles as I am. Mollie that absolutely intolerable horse, asked for sugar cubes, the product of our enemy. Then she requested the keeping of her mane ribbons. I forced myself to explain to the poor and naïve pony that these were the shackles of slavery that we mustn't hold onto any longer. I did not want to push such ill feelings on those who didn't understand, because it was my job make them understand, but I was entirely frustrated with the fact that they simply wanted to rely on stupid human luxuries. On top of the incompetent Mollie, was that odd bird Moses. He told tales of "Sugarcandy Mountain". What rubbish?! Spreading his false stories the animals were being mislead to believe of a perfect world, which I immediately informed them there wasn't such a thing. Nothing but hard work was life, nit, grit, and all. Not only that but Moses was all too loyal to Farmer Jones. He was given the lavish beer soaked bread crumbs while the rest of the farm suffered from this malnutrition routine. I am unsure now of how to make my comrades see one straight path, one vision, that vision of Old Major. Its not an easy task to completely change their way of thinking and life but I will make it work. There is always a way, isn't there?
He died not so much as a week later. Within three days he had graced us with the sick gift of death. We buried Old Major at the edge of the orchard, a terrible morning of mourning was it. The death of early March was not forgotten as the months wore on. Three months to be exact, as we intellectual animals met during the nights to discuss what Old Major meant, and what he wanted us to do. My world had been changed with the arrival of so many new thoughts that hadn't once crossed my mind before Old Majors death. I was a changed pig. My comrades and I foresee a Rebellion, for Old Major himself said it would come, but who knows when it will come. It might not even be for centuries or more, but still I know that Old Major would have wanted us to be ready. It was our duty to prepare our fellow comrades for whatever rebellion we might come to face. We would work together and stand as the Beasts of England to conquer the future. Squealer, Napoleon and I, the pigs and more of the intelligent animals, had decided upon naming this philosophy founded by our beloved. Animalism we called it. I think it fits rather well, don't you?
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