Either not content with bullying cats or finally being taunted to an extreme degree by a bovine creature, who were known to repeatedly badger (in an adjectively incorrect manner) the once gentle Curiousity, Farmer Frank, the farmer made famous by the story of what can only be called The Cow Mishap (or "The Earth is Boring," as it was originally called by the author, and who is rather chuffed that his story has been countlessly mis-titled using the name the townspeople used to describe the events of the story, and it quite bothered him that people considered a fictional character's title more suitable to a story than the actual author's, and now apparently won't speak to anyone unless they're wearing a tin button with Garfield the cat saying something witty on it and keep their hands out at all times, honestly, I've had interviews with him where he'll just run off and climb up a tree because I've reached into my pocket for a calculator (because he also has an odd habit of not speaking with letters, but instead spelling out his half of the conversation with numbers, at the end of which the total also means something, or not, there's always the odd chance that he's pulling your leg, too, and you'll just wind up with some meaningless number like 6,218)) found one of his cows (whom he would be remiss to call beloved, considering events of the aforementioned incident) dead, a victim of Curiousity.
His Heart, which previously had been slightly hardened by the incident named helpfully the Cow Mishap, failed to remain hardened, and Farmer Frank, upon seeing one of his cows lying by a tree, looking decidedly un-Life-like at the base of a tree, rushed over to be of any assistance which he possibly could. Some people say he cried, which he vehemently denies, and which I would feel comfortable denying, as well, considering most of the people who say he cried weren't anywhere near the scene, and Farmer Frank can be a mean bastard when you don't agree with him.
And he looked up at the sky, as people crouching beside a dead cow are wont to do, looked back down at the dead cow, looked quickly back up at the sky, looked at a nearby tree, from which he was guessing the cow had attempted to figure out what all this fuss about flying was about, looked at the road, on which traffic was slowing as they caught something in the distance that was infinitely more interesting than what they were doing in driving a rather heavy bit of metal down the road, in that it had nothing to do with their passenger, babbling on about toenails, the road, which was, and had been, plain old tarmac for the last 500 miles or so, the other autos, which were boringly staying to their side of the road, or the little knobs and dials all over the dashboard which seemed to indicate either the person was soon to run out of fuel or was being invaded by aliens with only one arm. All this looking (except for the now stationary motorists who, had they been moving, would have been described as passing) was brought to abrupt halt when the formerly dead cow pinched Farmer Frank's leg, got up, and ran away. Farmer Frank would have followed (or would have a lot more gracefully, at any rate), had it not been for the fact that the cow had tied his shoelaces together.
disclaimer:
Never trust a cow. Or people bearing gift horses.
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