Category Archives: Cows

Stuck On You

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Glued-people

Stuck On You

#Flash Fiction Prompt

“How are you? I’m OK, but I’m leaking glue.”

Elsie stared at Elmer in disbelief. They had been together for a while now. He’d always been a bit bullish, and she adored that about him, especially in the sack. He was almost always horny, and that was fine with her, as long as they weren’t chewing the cud. Nothing ruins mating like starting a discussion.

Like now.

“What do you mean, you’re “leaking glue?”

Elmer had been behind her, as was his want, but mooved around so he was facing her to make that statement. She loved the milky whiteness of his skin, the baleful ferociousness that was offset by the cravings she saw in his big brown eyes. She loved how he was outstanding in his field, how Angus and the others freely gave him his stomping grounds.  Elsie loved a lot of things about Elmer, but this…this was scary. He was not one prone to joking around or making existential statements. He was more of a grunting hulk, moody at times, but…that was just his way.

“I’m…I’m OK as well, Elmer,” she stammered out. “Honey, what do you mean? You’re leaking glue? Is that a joke?”

He didn’t answer. Elmer mooved away slightly, staring off in the distance. She turned in the same direction as his gaze. She saw nothing out of the ordinary. The young ones were frolicking over the meadow, no matter how many times they were swatted to stop. Over by the clump of trees a number of their crowd were just lazing around. Elsie noticed Bessie-that heifer!-was there, making eyes at anyone who would pay attention. She had been with Elmer when they were younger, but he had mooved on. He was with her, now, and she’d be darned if…no, he wasn’t looking at her.

What was he looking at?

She waited with him, patiently at first. He wasn’t paying her any attention, and she wasn’t used to that. Sure, they’d stand around all day, catching rays, or hang out under the trees. But, Elmer had always been Present. This, this was unlike him, and it made her skittish.

The sun moved west, and the light of the day began to wane. The others began to mosey indoors; it was feeding time, and none of them would wait a second longer if they didn’t have to. Elsie stayed because Elmer stayed. He was lost inside of himself; she had no idea why.

The light of the day slowly turned to darkness, accentuated by the twinkling far away lights. The moon was full and bright, which allowed her to see quite well. Her gaze was on Elmer. His was still elsewhere.

The grumblings in her tummies had grown to an uncomfortable level. Head hung down, Elsie thought to swat Elmer, mad at what went on this day. Her better sense of propriety won out, and with one last look at Elmer, she started to saunter off to be with the others.

She had only taken eight steps when Elmer said his first word since earlier in the day.

“Elsie?”

She stopped. Her heart began to race. Elsie slowly turned around to face him. The faraway look that held him was still focused, but focused on her. She stayed where she was, rooted to ground. The grass, which had been getting taller, swayed around her.

“Elsie,” he said again. “Have you ever thought why we are here? What our purpose for being is all about?”

“Ugh,” she thought. “Existentialism, just as I was not hoping for.” She shook her head, dismayed. A smattering of bells, discordant in nature, accompanied her gesture.

“Do we have the right to be happy? If we do, is it something we have to earn? Do we have to have commonality to really connect with another?

All day, I’ve thought of all these things, and more. The why, the where, the how, the what, and when… these thoughts rushed over me. When they did…the questions: they froze me in place. I felt small, for the first time, as I began to…to…” Elmer trailed off into silence.

“What? You began to what?” Elsie asked, with a tone in her voice that she never, ever, used with Elmer.

“Contemplate. Us. You and me. Our crowd, our offspring, our being in this place, right here, right now.

I came up with some thoughts I’d like to share with you, if you’ll bear with me.”

She shivered at the thoughts of bears. She knew that wasn’t what he meant, but the image was placed in her skull. She hated bears.

Elmer cleared his throat. Elsie quietly sighed.

“I’m OK, but I’m leaking glue.

Bound together, me and you…”

“Poetry? You wasted the day on poetry?”

Elmer glared at her. If there was a stronger light source, she’d believe his eyes were turning red.

“I’m sorry. Please, go on.”

He shook his head, clearing his mind, centering himself. He began again.

“I’m OK, but I’m leaking glue.

It binds us together, making us true.”

“That’s not what you said before.”

“It’s a work in progress. Humor me.”

Elsie sighed again, and nodded her acquiescence.

He coughed. “Please let me finish.” Without waiting for a response, he soldiered on.

“I’m OK, but I’m leaking glue;

It binds us together, making us true.

The reason I am here on this Earthly place

Becomes clearer as I look upon your face.

A gentle peace resides within,

Even though we occasionally sin

Yet a more beautiful heart I will not find,

Especially one with a wondrous behind.

It matters not what others may say,

I will love you to my dying day.

No tears, no tears, my heart does swell,

As in this dell do we dwell.

Let what I feel spread to all around

My love is strong; to you I’m bound.

No matter whatever roles we’re meant to be,

Why we’re us and not some flea.

We’re here together; it is our due,

 I’m yours, forever.

 I’m leaking glue.”

To Elsie, it was a bit laughable, but in the end it really wasn’t. This day she felt her heart grow three times its size. Tears started to well in her limpid eyes. She mooved close to Elmer and leaned against him.

They stayed that way through most of the night, not saying much at all.

Towards the dawn, they both snuffled a bit with the rising dew around them. Elsie started to quietly chuckle.

“What’s that for?” Elmer asked

Elsie leaned her head on his, closing her eyes.

“I think I’m stuck on you, too.” Elsie paused. “You do know, that was a bit cheesy.”

The two of them laughed, and were still laughing, when the others came out for the day.

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Author’s Note: Yes, the above came from a prompt, which was:

 “How are you? I’m OK, but I’m leaking glue.”

That line was actually said to either Debs or David of Fiction Can Be Fun. They hold prompts once a month, and post here and there when they can. Life, y’now? They collaborate on the site as well as write together: they are in the midst of fleshing out their WIP. I’ve read the bones of it, and I am excited to read it all when they care to share their showable draft.

If you want to take up the prompt challenge, Here There Are Rules:

Please post on your own site and add a link in the comments section [on Fiction Can Be Fun].  If you don’t have your own blog or similar outlet, do send us your story via the contact form on the About page and we’ll post for you, with an appropriate by-line.  

Word count: up to 1,500
Deadline: 2pm GMT on Friday 8th June 2018

Please do not submit anything that would be NSFW.

Now shoo. Have fun storming the castle.

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Manifold Destiny (The Obsidian Journal)

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Journal Entry:

My Lamborghini Diablo VTTT was purring in idle, waiting to eat the levels of hell. Tricked out with a Demon Carb and T9 turbochargers , pushing the already powerful V24 block, the blood red monster  gleamed and was raring to roar. My perpetual mechanic minions worked themselves to death-literally-their inner ichor draining off while they whistled while they toiled.

I hate whistling!

Of course, nothing stays “dead” in the land of the dead. Damnit! One of those things HE and I disagreed on. Oh well…their eternal servitude brought them back to their feet as I vaulted into the drivers seat. It felt delicious, as I shimmied around on the real Corinthian leather, made out of real Corinthians.  Two of the flunkies were corporeal enough to close the vertical Lambo door for me. They got a sneer and a snarl for their duty.

Rolling out of the Manifold Destiny garage, I noticed Lilith had a large Suku-Bus in for repairs. Damn good idea, she had; it got a lot of rides. More souls for less. Makes me almost smile.

Almost.

Outside, and it was pedal to the metal! The full turbo boost of the monster lept into action as I smoked down hell’s boulevards. Most got out of the way. Many did not, and the squeals and suffering were musical afternotes to my ears. The odorous mélange of the ever changing landscape wafted through the car’s cabin, and I felt a dark smile reach my lips as the double Diablos (I laughed at that one!) rocketed out of my domain…doing 355 per mortal hour, if memory serves me right.

Shooting through The Seven Gates of Hell in York, PA (you just have to admire that designation), we screamed through the land of  sleepy night heads. I stopped here and there to tip some cows over, leave some alternate hexagons in place of the Mennonites symbols, and picked up a hitchhiker. 

Really? Was he kidding, thinking of pulling a gun on ME? He was an amusing plaything for all of five minutes. I should check to see if the farmer enjoyed his new scarecrow. I know the crows enjoyed their meal.

I tooled around Hellam (my type of town), thumbed my nose at you-know-who as I  breezed through Mt. Zion and Paradise, and stopped for a time in Intercourse. Along the way I found sinners of all cloth, and dealt with them accordingly. My glove compartment (gloves? really? Hell, remember?) was full of deals signed in blood (the rubes), with “promises’ to come for their souls.

The thought of those promises did make me laugh on the road, causing a bit of a tumult. I saw that another flock of birds were found dead the next day: news at Eleven. C’est la mort! Promises…after all, I’m not the Prince of Lies for nothing.

Winding my way around the trenches of this so called life was exhilarating for a short while, but…boredom comes so easily after so many years. I put the Diablo on auto-cruise, sat back to watch the too little devastation in my wake (got an early morning buggy to do five 360’s!) and soon found myself through The Seven Gates of Hell (figuratively and literally).

Wheeling into Manifold Destiny, the ame damee surrounded their Diablos, taking good care of both.

Lilith’s Suku-Bus was gone. Good. She’ll have a tale or twelve to tell when she comes to bed later.

My "Baby"

Poll: Vote For Fave Stories *Updated

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Hello and Welcome:

I have been writing almost daily (well, I have been, but not always posting on Tale Spinning) and the responses to continue certain story lines was intense. If you have not visited here before, I created a poll to see which stories have resonated most with my readers. The links to the stories are below the poll, so if you are just discovering my work, you have a one stop page to check them out. Please take a look and post if you have any favorites you’d like to see me continue. You also can vote for up to THREE of the tales.

Yes, I have been writing since, and those will be on another poll, at a later time.

THANK YOU ONE AND ALL!!

Work In Progress (No Title),               Look at…/Epigamic,                  Thou Premonished…,

The Spenetic Tango                             Bushwhacked

Little Animal,                                        Night Abduction                       Beware of Falling Cows

Redhead Story                                       Birdsong: The Walkabout Man

Beware of Falling Cows

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Scientists tell us that the fastest animal on earth, with a top speed of 120 ft/sec, is a cow that has been dropped out of a helicopter.” ~Dave Barry~

“I don’t think we ought to do this, Edgar,” Charlie said, concerned for the safety of the Butterlips, the cow.

“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.