Quick guys, I only have about five minutes before they catch me and I need to get this down and out (down and out?) down and out on the internet before they do.
Professor Reuben and I have come across an astounding scientific secret that has remained, well, a secret up until now. It concerns the best of our bovine friends, the common cow.
Where do all those cows come from? How do they get here? Was there was a time when there wasn’t cows or have they been here all this time? People have wondered this for years and with good reason; cows appear and disappear regularly with no explanation. You just don’t know. One day a field is empty and the next it’s swarming with cows like sweetcorn on a pizza.
Cows aren’t born through other cows. All that nonsense is only there to confuse you. I scoff at your notion of animals birthing animals. Cows come through a dimensional gate accessed only through bales of hay. They appear when nobody is looking, as white as my legs during the summer, with none of those black or brown splodges to speak of. It is only once they’re through into our world do they assume an identity and get splatted with paint to try and fit in with the others.
Normally I would be thrilled with such a boon. This is the kind of boon that the word ‘boon’ was made for. I’d be booning it large with a pint in one hand and maybe a couple of boons in the other. The cows, however, didn’t take too kindly to our interference with their practises.
Now that we’ve discovered this they’re after us. I haven’t slept for three days. Whenever I feel myself dropping off I can hear a sweet and low, “moo” drifting on the wind and we’re off again into the night.
If they get us and we don’t come back know only this, I regret nothing (except most of what I said and wrote in 2007).
8 comments on “Conspiracy Bales”
I’m absolutely ready to believe this, obviously, because the whole thing is very credible. That much goes without saying.
But I do have a question and my question is this. Why do cows get splatted with paint to fit in with other cows? The other cows are only splatty because they too are painted. Surely it would be easier not to paint any cows and then they’d fit in as soon as they’d come through the portal without anyone having to get the right shade from Dulux.
One cow did it once and now all of them have to do it. She effectively “ruined” it for everyone else.
Thank you for your vote of confidence. Not everyone agrees with my sweaty words.
The dampness and pungency of your sweaty words is what puts a lot of people off, but I see the charm within. All they need is a good shower.
I don’t have time to shower my words. You know me, I’m sweating both lyrics and rhymes. They’re coming out of me like a grand piano.
That’s fair enough. As The People’s Poet™, you can’t be expected to waste your time on hygiene. Don’t worry, I’ll spray your sweaty words with Lynx Africa. That’ll sort it.
You have to nurse the words so that they’re smell sweeter but won’t leave you. An aggressive spray will only spray them away. Not today.
Maybe you’re right. What if I slather them with a Lynx Voodoo roll-on?
That’s acceptable. I’m going to allow this.
More things need to be slathered.