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How A Raging bull

by Shelby Bowdy 4 months ago in fact or fiction

meets his end Among others

How A Raging bull
Photo by Sascha Bosshard on Unsplash

Set in the prairie, a large fence sticks above the grass, falling to ruin in some places. There, in the field stood a once proud bull, now reduced to weary bones covered by a thin sickly hide scarred and bug-bitten. His eyes, already lifeless and empty had gained even a glassier look, like he had no will left in him to fight anymore. That was even more evident when I entered his paddock, and he didn’t even lift his head, let alone chase me off. It was almost sad to load him up to take to the factory, where his skin would be tanned and turned into leather, while what little meat we could find was sent away to be packaged for distribution.

He went willingly enough, though sometimes I wished the animals I came for understood what my van meant. I wished a predecessor would leave a scent warning, like grass does when it gets cut, as if the other grass could run. My van, and by extension me, meant death for any animal we came across. I felt like the grim reaper. When the bull was loaded up, we closed the back so he wouldn’t escape, and left. On our way out we stopped to pay the farmer for the bull, by weight since he was so thin. We made our commute to the factory in silence spending it trying (for me) to make peace with killing something that still had some semblance of life left inside.

When we pulled up to the loading dock, my partner got out and opened the back. I closed my eyes and took a deep steadying breath before jumping out and grabbing the lasso still hanging around his neck. The pitiful creature hadn’t struggled a bit, accepting its fate as nothing more than spare parts. I was saddened by the decision, but my job, despite how I felt, was deliver the cargo. Matthias my partner didn’t let a silly thing like feelings get in the way, and neither should I. All too quickly the scrawny bull was led inside by an aproned worker and were off to our next pickup.

Our next coordinates led us to a rundown farmhouse with a picket fence and several hogs. I prayed we weren’t here for a hog. I had managed to stay fairly clean throughout today and wrestling a hog was notoriously dirty work. We pulled up to the farmhouse, and Matthias stepped out to knock on the door. A farmer of significant age spent a minute or two speaking to talking to the farmer before disappearing deeper into the house where I had to assume our cargo was. My curiosity was peaked, and I almost went in after him, but I knew that would only serve to scare the old man, so I stayed where I was, waiting on the edge of my seat for what felt like an eternity. It was probably only fifteen minutes or so, but I could barely hold still.

When Matthias finally came out, he was wheeling a large swan hissing from her cage. I understood now why he took on this job alone. I was terrified of birds, and swans were practically dinosaurs! Even knowing that thing was back there was enough to sorely tempt me to dangerously drive. Instead, I let my logic win and let Matthias drive. We pulled over at the nearest lake and dumped the swan,Matthias earning a nip on the hand as thanks. “I see why you hate birds, ungrateful bastards.” Matthaias spat as he climbed in the cab. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as we drove away.

Set in the prairie, a large fence sticks above the grass, falling to ruin in some places. There, in the field stood a once proud bull, now reduced to weary bones covered by a thin sickly hide scarred and bug-bitten. His eyes, already lifeless and empty had gained even a glassier look, like he had no will left in him to fight anymore. That was even more evident when I entered his paddock, and he didn’t even lift his head, let alone chase me off. It was almost sad to load him up to take to the factory, where his skin would be tanned and turned into leather, while what little meat we could find was sent away to be packaged for distribution.

He went willingly enough, though sometimes I wished the animals I came for understood what my van meant. I wished a predecessor would leave a scent warning, like grass does when it gets cut, as if the other grass could run. My van, and by extension me, meant death for any animal we came across. I felt like the grim reaper. When the bull was loaded up, we closed the back so he wouldn’t escape, and left. On our way out we stopped to pay the farmer for the bull, by weight since he was so thin. We made our commute to the factory in silence spending it trying (for me) to make peace with killing something that still had some semblance of life left inside.

When we pulled up to the loading dock, my partner got out and opened the back. I closed my eyes and took a deep steadying breath before jumping out and grabbing the lasso still hanging around his neck. The pitiful creature hadn’t struggled a bit, accepting its fate as nothing more than spare parts. I was saddened by the decision, but my job, despite how I felt, was deliver the cargo. Matthias my partner didn’t let a silly thing like feelings get in the way, and neither should I. All too quickly the scrawny bull was led inside by an aproned worker and were off to our next pickup.

Our next coordinates led us to a rundown farmhouse with a picket fence and several hogs. I prayed we weren’t here for a hog. I had managed to stay fairly clean throughout today and wrestling a hog was notoriously dirty work. We pulled up to the farmhouse, and Matthias stepped out to knock on the door. A farmer of significant age spent a minute or two speaking to talking to the farmer before disappearing deeper into the house where I had to assume our cargo was. My curiosity was peaked, and I almost went in after him, but I knew that would only serve to scare the old man, so I stayed where I was, waiting on the edge of my seat for what felt like an eternity. It was probably only fifteen minutes or so, but I could barely hold still.

When Matthias finally came out, he was wheeling a large swan hissing from her cage. I understood now why he took on this job alone. I was terrified of birds, and swans were practically dinosaurs! Even knowing that thing was back there was enough to sorely tempt me to dangerously drive. Instead, I let my logic win and let Matthias drive. We pulled over at the nearest lake and dumped the swan,Matthias earning a nip on the hand as thanks. “I see why you hate birds, ungrateful bastards.” Matthaias spat as he climbed in the cab. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as we drove away.

fact or fiction

Shelby Bowdy

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Shelby Bowdy
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