“Charlie, we been over this time and again. The doc pays us good money to do what he wants. Besides, it’s just another cow. Why is this one so different?” Edgar leaned against Butterlips side, panting.
Charlie motioned for Edgar to move over near him, away from the cow. He hoarsely whispered: “I think this one knows. I think Butterlips know what we plans. Lookit her eyes, Edgar. Look. Those are knowing eyes.”
Sneering, Edgar cuffed Charlie on the side of his head. “Moron, no cow has any more intelligence then grazing and poopin’, ” he said, even though, real stealthily, he went around to look in the cow’s eyes. He stood there for a good while.
Edgar tilted his head down and to the left. Butterlips mirrored him. He squatted down, and Butterlips followed suit. No matter which way he looked: up, down, squinty-eyed, cross-eyed, Butterlips matched him look for look. Pursing his lips and scratching his head, shaking, Butterlips commenced to do the same. Well, not the scratching her head, but she swished her tail around like she was scratching her hind quarters.
“Charlie, c’mere,” he said, even though Charlie was standing right beside him, having advanced when he witnessed what he saw. The two of them were amazed and frightened by the intelligent gleam pouring out of Butterlips’ gaze. If either of them knew what transfixed meant, or could spell it, they’d know that was what was happening to them.
A fart sounded from behind Butterlips. “Sorry boys, but that last batch of hay you fed me was still a bit green. Oops,” she said, “sorry again.”
Charlie felt faint, but Edgar got stubborn. “I don’t care if she talks or dances a fandango, she’s..”
“How does going to the movies make a cow dance, Edgar?”
Edgar and Butterlips both sighed. They looked at each other and shook their heads in unison.
“I’m sorry, actually sorry, Butterlips, but intelligent talking cow or not, we have a job to do. You’re harnessed up, and we are approaching the drop zone. Doc Garnerin spent a lot of time and money…”
“And cows. He’s dropped a lot of cows,” Charlie cut in.
“Will you pipe down. Anyways, we’re almost there. He’s got money, and time, invested in this. Not only is he trying to be the first one to invent the Hassle Free Open Chute (silly name, if you ask me)-“Look Ma, no hands!” is the tag line he thinks is funny-but he also has money down as a bet that you’ll be the first cow to pond swoop. Hell, I have money on that one. Down you are going, missy. Charlie, open the ‘copter door.”
Charlie unlocked and slid the door open. The countdown lights began to flash, and the two of them pushed Butterlips as best they could towards the door.
She held her ground as best she could. “Boy, you don’t have to do this. We can work something out. Milk. Fresh milk for life. Whenever you..ugh..stop that..want it! BOYS!! STOP!!”
The green light was flashing. Edgar yelled to the pilot: “Yo, Greg, tilt this sucker! We got a stubborn one.”
Greg was bored, and feeling sick and tired of this whole thing. 27 cows up, 26 splattered on the ground. Four cars, the side of a silo, and a lot of trees got splattered too. This was his last trip, money or no. He heard Edgar yell again, with a few choice words that set his teeth on edge. “Oh yeah,” Greg thought, as he began a complete insane barrel roll. In a helicopter.
The Eurocopter got very light, very fast. Too fast, and Greg lost control and the motor cut out. He went down pretty fast, passing Butterlips, Edgar and Charlie. He gave them the finger as he passed by.
The three of them were in free-fall. Edgar and Charlie, without chutes, tried to reach Butterlips, hoping to catch a ride with her (if it worked).
It did, but her acceleration into terminal velocity was faster, and she shot past them. Then her parachute opened up by itself, sending her up again as it deployed and caught the updraft. Edgar and Charlie generated forward turns, backward motion, and even caught for a few seconds an air pocket that gave them lift. All to no avail. Butterlips began her descent gracefully, while Edgar and Charlie took out a motor home that was passing by.
The driver and his wife, Bernie and Marge, were ok, if you were wondering. They did receive a healthy insurance check after a fairly long wait. The argument over if they were covered for falling men was in dispute.
As for Butterlips, she did not chow. She skimmed the pond water with accurate precision, crested the shore gently, and got a perfect score. The harness automatically unfastened itself, which made Doc Garnerin even more pleased. The small crowd cheered, photos were taken, Butterlips got sweet dew kissed fresh cut grass, and the event made the evening news.