AdoraBULL!

Augustine breathed in the dusty air as he made his way in the hot, summer sun. Sweat dripped down his brow, causing him to readjust his hat. The bandana that hung around his neck was pulled up over his nose and mouth. There was still a ways to go but hopefully he would make it unscathed. He took a sip of water and looked up at the cloudless skies. It was the worst day for this journey, but he had no choice. The time was now. As a cool breeze pushed him forward, he felt a cold shiver down his leg.

His iPhone just got a text message.

He reached down his pocket and turned on the screen.

hi mijo. did you bring enough money? it’s a school night so don’t stay out too late. call your dad to pick you up when you're ready. then you can come home and fix alexa. she won’t shut up. have fun. be safe. don’t do drugs. mi amor.

He was about to put the phone back into his pocket when it buzzed again. Another text had just come in.

this is you mom

Augustine waited a few seconds before putting his phone away with a little more confidence. Looking into the distance he could see the sign read “Welcome to WesternCon!”. He pulled out his ticket and made sure it looked right. It was the only day he could afford and needed to see as much as he could. No one wanted to go with him. Apparently, the old west wasn’t fun anymore. Of course, most westerns back then are problematic now but if you looked past the casual racism and inappropriate Native American imagery, mostly through sheer will, you could have a passable good time! Plus, Augustine saw himself more as a vaquero or even a bandito.

Taking some sunscreen from his fanny pack, he put some on his face and arms as his short-sleeved button shirt left little protection. He picked some gunk off of his favorite boots then adjusted his glasses and bandana before heading to the entrance. It was time to cowboy up. Or vaquero up. Arriba vaquero?

“Tickets please. You also need to take down your bandana for safety reasons.”

Augustine handed over his ticket to a pimply faced teenager that might have been just a few years older.

“Why? “

“I don’t know, dude. They just pay me to say that.”

He handed Augustine his ticket back and waved him through. Throwing away his water bottle in the recycling can, he could hear a country band break out the violin, pumping the crowd. Cowboys hats of all shades of color stuck up from dancers, stomping their boots to the beat with belt buckles the size of, and likeness of, the great state of Texas. Continuing on he walked into “Tejano Town” and saw something very similar. Although, the hats were darker, the boots were pointier and the belt buckles were a little bit bigger, thought they too had pictures of the lone star state. If you couldn’t tell by the music that it was a Tejano area, the fact that every five guys wore the same multicolored shirt was a big giveaway.

Walking around the “Sarsaparilla Soda Fountain” and the “Oregon Trail Tacos”, he found a picture of a bull with the words Meet the Most Ragiest Bull Ever! and small stuffed bull toy on a string. He walked over and ask the old man at the gate if he could see the bull.

“Of course ya can fella! That will be three dollars.”

Augustin paid his price and walked past the stand to the back where a small tent stood. “If this where the bull was kept, no wonder it was raging”, he thought. Coming up to the rail he saw the bull.

“Um. Sir? I think there is something wrong with your bull.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he’s not raging. Or even casually disappointed. I think he looks bored. Plus, I’m pretty sure it’s a cow. Also, you shouldn’t duct tape horns to a cow. Maybe there is a more animal friendly way to do that?”

The old man looked at the cow then at Augustine. Then back at the cow. This time a little longer. Then back at Augustine.

“Maybe you’re too smart for your own good.”

Augustin scrunched his nose.

“Is that the same as being too dumb for your own bad? Oh, is it good or well? You’re too smart for your own well. No, that sounds stupid. Oh! You’re too smart for your own well-being! How about… You’re too smart for the dumb good things that stupid good will do for your well-being. What do you think, mister?”

The old man had already gone. He was chatting it up with a new family outside of the tent, getting some more customers that will regret taking that turn at “The Pecos Pete Podiatrist” western shop. A wet, slobbery tongue was licking Augustine’s hand, giving him a someone should talk to the creepy kid from school flashback. The cow had walked over, nuzzling up to the surprised preteen. He reached out and gave the cow a pat on her head. One of her horns drooped just a bit more.

"Careful kid! That bull is a raaaaaging!" The old man said.

The cow stop licking his hand and walked over to some hay and started eating. With rage, Augustine guessed.