Editorial 20

Editorial 20

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A grisly old farmer was finishing up his chores when he noticed that several cows had not returned home from grazing in the forest.
“Damn cattle,” he muttered, “you’re going to make me late for my supper.”
The farmer loathed the thought of traipsing through the woods at that hour in search of his bovines. It was getting dark and he didn’t want to hear his wife chewin’ the rag about him being late. A cantankerous woman she was.
With his gumboots on and tattered coat hardly keeping out the breeze, he set off in search of his cows. Probably doing this for spite, he thought, filling their bellies with sweet grass because the old man’s hay tastes like crap.
The farmer cursed his poverty as he made his way through the forest. It was eerily quiet as no crickets made a sound, and no small animals scurried for cover.
After an hour the farmer was growing cold and tired, and even more disgruntled about missing his dinner. He settled down on a tree stump to catch his breath before heading home. “Blasted cows, they can stay out all night and freeze,” he mumbled.
Looking at his surroundings, the farmer could barely make out the spruce trees swaying in the wind. Then he saw it – a large, dark shape 50 yards opposite him. “Henrietta, is that you?” he shouted. “I’ve a right mind to leave you here for the wolves. They’d have a grand time feeding on your carcass.”
But this thing was no cow, he realized. It looked human, sitting on an old stump, just like he was. “Tender Jesus,” he whispered to himself, questioning the reality of the moment. Had he gone plum loco? Were those horns protruding from a skull?
“Get over here, Henrietta!” the old man shouted, to convince himself that the dark was playing games with his mind.
“I’m no cow, farmer,” the beast said. “I ate them all an hour ago. And they were quite filling, I might add.”
The farmer froze, stricken with terror. This must be a nightmare, his heart screamed.
“This ain’t no dream, farmer,” the hulking shadow hissed. “Look at your foot,” it said.
The old man’s eyes darted to his left gumboot; his foot immediately felt different. God save me, the farmer prayed.
“He can’t,” the beast replied. “Look at your foot.”
The old man carefully removed his boot and stared in horror as his foot was gone, replaced by a cow’s hoof.
“Welcome to the family,” the devil laughed as the forest echoed with the farmer’s scream.

A grisly old farmer was finishing up his chores when he noticed that several cows had not returned home from grazing in the forest.
“Damn cattle,” he muttered, “you’re going to make me late for my supper.”
The farmer loathed the thought of traipsing through the woods at that hour in search of his bovines. It was getting dark and he didn’t want to hear his wife chewin’ the rag about him being late. A cantankerous woman she was.
With his gumboots on and tattered coat hardly keeping out the breeze, he set off in search of his cows. Probably doing this for spite, he thought, filling their bellies with sweet grass because the old man’s hay tasted like crap.
The farmer cursed his poverty as he made his way through the forest. It was eerily quiet as no crickets made a sound, and no small animals scurried for cover.
After an hour the farmer was growing cold and tired, and even more disgruntled about missing his dinner. He settled down on a tree stump to catch his breath before heading home. “Blasted cows, they can stay out all night and freeze,” he mumbled.
Looking at his surroundings, the farmer could barely make out the spruce trees swaying in the wind. Then he saw it – a large, dark shape 50 yards opposite him. “Henrietta, is that you?” he shouted. “I’ve a right mind to leave you here for the wolves. They’d have a grand time feeding on your carcass.”
But this thing was no cow, he realized. It looked human, sitting on an old stump, just like he was. “Tender Jesus,” he whispered to himself, questioning the reality of the moment. Had he gone plum loco? Were those horns protruding from a skull?
“Get over here, Henrietta!” the old man hollered, trying to convince himself that the dark was playing games with his mind.
“I’m no cow, farmer,” the beast said. “I ate them all an hour ago. And they were quite filling, I might add.”
The farmer froze, stricken with terror. This must be a nightmare, his heart screamed.
“This ain’t no dream, farmer,” the hulking shadow hissed. “Look at your foot,” it said.
The old man’s eyes darted to his left gumboot; his foot immediately felt different. God save me, the farmer prayed.
“He can’t,” the beast replied. “Look at your foot.”
The old man carefully removed his boot and stared in horror as his foot was gone, replaced by a cow’s hoof.
“Welcome to the family,” the devil laughed as the forest echoed with the farmer’s scream.

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