At the end of a long, mundane, tedious life of ups, downs, hope, happiness, sorrow, and regret, the man of fortune found himself slumped across his deathbed, looking back at his life to figure out exactly where it all went wrong. While he was not particularly extraordinary in any way, by no means was he an ordinary man. This was the man of fortune. The man who, in his prime, owned one of the largest industrial farms on the planet. The atrocities he oversaw on a daily basis would make the ordinary man sick to his stomach. Row after row of pigs, cows, and chickens crammed shoulder-to-shoulder in their prisons, bathing in their own filth and excrement, patiently waiting for their turn with the executioner. The fear and despair they must have felt. The horror of it all.

Slumped across that deathbed, the man of fortune fought until the bitter end, not because he wanted to live, but because he was too stubborn to die. At his hour of reckoning, with three long, heavy blinks, the universe around him gently faded to black, and the pain subsided. He rested in that darkness for an eternity. And it would have been an eternity and a day if not for the beam of light that ripped an opening through the midnight clouds above. From this opening emerged a massive golden disc with unintelligible hieroglyphs along its perimeter. The disc was escorted by a posse of winged humanoid figures who shared their faces with woodland critters. The bunnies and the birds and the fawns danced around the disc in laughter and play as it descended toward the cold, dark ground. And the fox gently rested, draped across the disc without a care in the world.

As the disc kissed the ground, the man rose from what was his final resting place. All the critters who had previously paid no mind suddenly stopped their laughter and play to glare through him. Even the fox had risen from his careless perch to glare through the man. Fighting through the weight of their judgment, he approached. It was now evident that the floating hunk of gold was less a disc and more a wheel like that of a game show. He could just barely make out the strange markings along its perimeter. Some looked like the judgmental forest creatures that carefully watched his every move, a few like ordinary people, and even fewer like extraordinary people. And there was a fox.

At this point, the man was trembling. Nervously, he opened his mouth and began to speak, but was immediately cut off by the fox, who made it very clear that this was not a negotiation. He didn't hesitate to tell the man just how lucky he was that they found him. With one spin of this wheel, he said, the man would live again. All he needed to do was give in and let fate choose his new form. Otherwise, he could retain his identity and return to his long, dark, eternal slumber for the rest of time.

Just as any of us would do if faced with such a dilemma, the man first hesitated, then deliberated, then ultimately made the not-so-reasonable decision: he would try his luck. And so, with a mighty yank, he heaved the wheel and watched it spin and spin and spin. It spun so many times that he lost count out there in eternity. When it finally began to slow down, equally anxious and excited, the man of fortune carefully watched the options tick by.

Farmer. Banker. Dog. Elephant. Deer. Politician. Rabbit.

The sly fox smirked as the final option ticked by.

Pig.