Why did the cow cross the road?

No, not a bad first-grader joke, or a meditative question like “what is the sound of one hand clapping,” but ten seconds of my morning carpool run. It went something like this.

Driving along, taking my back roads…lalalalalala…



Cow crossing the street right in front of my van.

Skkkkkrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetttttttttttttttcccccccccccccchhhhhhh… (that is the sound of a minivan stopping very suddenly and all the crap in said minivan flying forward, including one purse, one empty booster seat, one pillow for the three year old, and one well-loved lovey for aforementioned three year old; I saved the travel mug full of coffee. I have priorities you know).

She hopped across the road, narrowly missing my van (and darn it, if I’d hit her it would have saved me a long trip to the meat locker next week to get my 1/4 side beef!).

Then that bovine bitch turned, stared at me, and did a touchdown dance in the ditch, complete with rear heels kicked in the air. I am not making this up. She may even have stuck her tongue out at me. I believe I was either punked by a cow or this was some sort of cattle gang initiation.

Udderly amazing.


One Response

  1. […] Because the processing plant that I can see from my back porch didn’t receive my fax. Hitting Bessie the Hitchhiking Cow would have been a much easier and faster way to get my year’s supply of […]

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