We heard them before we saw them. A low rumbling sound, like ZZ Top fans rushing the stage, it grew louder and louder until the first of the little curly-tailed bastards appeared on the horizon. We thought we were doomed.

It was the annual wild pig migration, five million total, and they were headed straight for Pollstar.com.

They massed along the western wall of our compound until their combined weight broke through the gates, allowing them to rush the main data facility. Those of us in the processing pits were instructed to “do an Enron,”and shred the schedules for Gregory Isaacs, Cherish The Ladies and Kittie rather than let the little oinkers get their hooves on them, while our executive staff was airlifted from the roof to an offshore aircraft carrier. It was like Saigon in ’75, only worse.

We had just finished transmitting the latest dates for Pet Shop Boys and Kate Rusby to the NSA for safekeeping, when their leader overpowered the security officer by giving him a pork chop to the neck, and then grabbed our box office editor, and stuck his filthy pig’s knuckles in the poor soul’s face. The unthinkable had happened. We had a hostage situation.

But what did they want? While their leader held on to the box office editor, his swine soldiers went to work on our computers. They scanned the central database, skimming over the schedules for Matthew Sweet, The Derek Trucks Band and Jonatha Brooke. Meanwhile, the Fresno P.D.’s Wild Pig Response Team gathered outside, their fingers on their triggers, waiting for an opportunity.

Suddenly, one of the porcine misfits pointed at the computer monitor and let out a squeal that made our hair stand on end. Soon, all of the pigs were acting frantically, squealing and oinking like there was no tomorrow. They had found what they were looking for; a May 25 listing for the Spring Music Festival in Jacksonville, Florida, or more specifically, a listing for The Bacon Brothers.

Not much happened after that. After releasing our box office editor, the pigs, all five million of them, chartered a Greyhound for Florida, and we never saw them again. But we’ll always remember that day. That day when the swine rose up, grabbed our box office editor and almost brought our entire company to its knees. That day when the pigs called the shots and the swine ruled our lives. Yes, it was a day like no other. Even for Fresno.

And we’ll always remember that hog day afternoon.