WARNING: THE FOLLOWING STORY IS HAS NO PLOT AND IS INCREDIBLY RANDOM. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED OR ALLERGIC TO EITHER OF THESE ELEMENTS I BID YOU READ THIS NOT!
I own me and I co-own Food Town. I do not own anything else in this story. Inspired by Over The Moon from RENT and Out Out Damn Spot by Anthony Rapp… with a teeny mention of Cabaret- from Cabaret.
The Cow is Always Right
It was a day like any other day. I was outside Food Town, a restaurant in Santa Fe owned by my best friend and me where the walls were made out of cotton candy, all the waitresses wear back and white-striped scarves and the waiters wear sparkly top hats. Anyway, I was as happy as a walrus, feeding the pigeons. When I noticed when one of them began choking on a piece of food and died, I made a mental note to give them smooth peanut butter instead of chunky next time.
I was beginning to get bored when all of a sudden John and Elsie the cow came down from over the moon and landed with flourish next to me. John dismounted Elsie and asked me if I happened to know where his ticket stub went. That's when I started to sense that something was amiss.
'Did you check your hat?' I inquired. He nodded in response. 'Your coat?'
'Yep.'
'Your… mind?'
'Now what would my ticket stub be doing in my mind?' he demanded.
'Skiing,' I answered. I mean, duh. Then he disappeared into a puff of purple smoke. I sighed and looked to Elsie. 'How're things with Maureen?' I asked.
'To tell you the truth, I don't see her a lot anymore,' she answered. 'I spent most of my time in the four sordid rooms I share with Liza Minelli.'
'Riiiight,'
We both watched in silence as one of the pigeons took out a frying pan and knocked another one unconscious in order to get the last piece of the peanut butter sandwich. Finally I broke the silence.
'You ever notice how the world isn't purple?' I questioned her.
'Well, it's not purple, but it's not not purple,' she replied. Of course she was right. The cow was always right.
So, I guess the reason I'm writing this is to remind all of you that (although sometimes we may forget), no matter who you ask, (Mother Teresa, Adam Pascal, your cat, George Bush, Gandhi's dad, J. K. Rowling, your best friend's sister's boyfriend's aunt's elementary school teacher who is now retired and living in Alaska), you don't really know the answer until you ask the cow. Because the cow is always right.
