The Cow’s Moo

Note: The following was translate from the bovine vernacular.

“Your sons are going to kill you!” I shouted at him. But he didn’t understand it anymore than I understand the noises humans make. He knew I was agitated, so he took a moment out of chewing his straw and contemplating life (which is what I imagined him doing during those breaks he took to stare into space) to give me a reassuring pet.

That night I heard the gunshots. I imagine it happened how I saw the big son pantomime to the dumb son (they have a harder time grasping the human language than I do): they’d shoot the father while he slept, then they’d stage it to look like a robbery.

I’m not sure why humans do that to each other. All I know about humans, now are:

1. The sons run this farm now.
2. I miss my friend.

This website has crossed the one year mark and I celebrated by missing last Thursday’s post and this Monday’s. But I’ll try to make it up by posting a flash fiction story every today thru Friday. That’s four stories! And I’m taking suggestions. You could give me a word, an idea, a character, a plot, a pictures, or whatever you want and I’ll write a flash fiction story inspired by it. I’ll be taking the first three suggestions that make their way to me. You could post a comment here, twitter at me, email me… whatever.

This first story came from a tweet by Jonathan MacFarlane. When I asked for someone to throw out an idea for my flash fiction story he tweeted back: @j_macfarlane A cow that knows a terrible secret but can’t tell anyone because it’s a cow.