A play in a bull corral
Today’s column is a short play. The characters: a pair of bulls — Cuthbert and Bonebag — are attempting to out-bellow each other in order to impress a pair of cute heifer cows, Fiona and Undine.
Setting: a bull corral built for stout.
Characters: Cuthbert and Bonebag, two stud-bulls. Fiona and Undine: a pair of cute heifers.
Outside the bull corral, Fiona and Undine, roll their big bovine eyes, switch their tails and shift from hoof to hoof as they stare between the corral bars where Bonebag Bull and Cuthbert Bull are squared off. Bonebag sighs. Cuthbert twitches. They lower their heads and commence whacking each other’s horns.
Fiona and Undine thoughtfully chew their cuds as they listen to the rattling of horns and pawing of earth which makes little dust-devil explosions.
Bonebag: “I’m the best bull here! My heritage goes way back!”
Cuthbert: (who suffers from a slight lisp) “How dare you thay that? I’ve obviouthly got better heritage than you. It theth tho on my papers. (The ring in Cuthbert’s nose rocks as he bobs his head to underscore his statement).
Bonebag: Rolls his eyes and sighs deeply. “What drivel! My plan calls for each and every newborn calf that gets born — due to my better bull service of course — is to receive its own computer free of charge.”
Cuthbert: “Ridiculuth! A calf should have the opportunity to make it on hith own like I did.”
Fiona: (Outside the corral) “Say, Undine, did you notice Cuthbert looks taller than he used to?”
Undine: (squinting) “You know, I think he really is taller. See there? He has chunks of two-by-four glued to the bottom of his hooves.”
Fiona: “Well, no wonder he’s twitchy. It must be hard to keep your balance perched on those little platforms.”
Undine: “Yeah, but they make him almost as tall as Bonebag, so maybe it’s worth it?”
(Inside the corral, Bonebag and Cuthbert begin yelling about whose calf offspring are the fastest-growing, best reproducers, and easiest on the eyes).
Fiona: (hiccuping her cud) “The way those bulls dodge and duck, makes ‘em look like cloven-hoofed dancers.”
Undine: “Ya think so? So, which one are you going to dance with?”
Fiona: (glancing down at her front hooves, discovered she was hock deep in sticky, gooey brown stuff).
Undine: “Probably, but you didn’t answer my question. Which of those two big bellerin’ bulls you gonna dance with.
Fiona: (Expelling a huge sigh and burp declared, “Undine, I tell you right here and now, if I dance at all, from what I can see from here, I’m a-gonna dance with the bull that’s got the biggest …”
Undine: (hurriedly interrupting) “NO! YOU CAN’T SAY THAT!”
Fiona: (puzzled) “Say what? I was just gonna say I won’t dance with either of those bulls unless he’s got a big …”
Undine: (again hastily interrupting). “Fiona! You can’t say THAT! It’ll never get printed!”
Fiona: (raising her left front hoof free of sticky brown cow-posy stuff, glanced askance at Undine).
“I can’t? All I was gonna say was that unless he’s got a big shovel with which to scrape this goop off my hooves, I won’t dance with him. (She paused). “What’d you think I was gonna say??!!” ❖
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