The Lost Animorph
Dr. Bastard was surprised, to say the least, to see a cow staring at him from across the length of his secret laboratory. The evil despot stood transfixed by the bovine's steely gaze. It was a stand-off in the great Mexican tradition. They stood, their eyes locked in an eternal struggle, silently daring each other to make the first move. Dr. Bastard licked his lips. The cow growled a little threatening moo, light shining from those big brown eyes.
They stood, dual statues of purpose, one malignant and one unknown. They were opposing forces on a monolithic scale. The Gods watched silently from above, breathlessly waiting for the clash of these incredible titans. A fly on the wall clung motionless, instinctively knowing from some primordial place not to stir, lest he be caught in the maelstrom of destructive combat sure to come any second.
An invisible magnetic attraction of hatred seethed between man and cow, a hypnotic pull that could only end in death. Four eyes unblinking, muscles tense, beef and flesh ready for a tornado of fist and hoof.
Dr. Bastard grabbed a gun off his desk and shot the cow through the brains. The animal form morphed in death, reverting to human.
"Blasted kids." Snapped Dr. Bastard.