Raging Bull****

He was trying to be a country boy, even though he did not know a thing about the country. Oh, but he did know about being a little boy though. He was a grown man, not wanting to take any responsibility for himself. For all the wrong things that he had done. Not wanting to take responsibility for his child. Not wanting to be a parent. So, he ran away. He ran to Wyoming, where he could be that country boy he always wanted to be. You know the kind with the big black country hat, the brown country boots. He wanted to go line dancing every night.

He liked it a lot better there. He did not have to worry about being a father to his son. He did not have to worry about his ex-girlfriend, the mother of that son nagging him twenty- four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred sixty-five days a year for not being a parent and not paying his child support. He felt freer. He wanted to move his whole family there so he would never again have a reason to go back to Missouri.

One day in late September he worked all day on his farm when he went inside he saw that he had received a letter that his animals would be coming in the next day or two. When he had bought the farm from the previous owners, they had informed him that there had been s a drought there for months and all the animals had to be moved until the farm was sold and the drought was over.

The next day he was excited that he was going to see what he had coming. Little did he know that soon he was going to be getting a gift. That gift was going to be a bull. And that bull had a gift for him as well. The gift of impulsive rage and anger. That day his animals had not come, however, the animal feed and other accessories needed to take care of the animals did come, so he knew that the animals should be coming the next day.

The next day the animals arrived as he was preparing the milking machine and laying hay belles around the barns. “MOOOOOO, MOOOOO!” He turned and ran out to greet the drivers.

“Howdy, are you Michael?”

“Hey, ya, I sure is!”

“Here are your animals sir, and this is the list of what they can eat and how to take care of them, we heard this is your first farm, right?”

“Yah, it sure are.”

“Alright, here ya go. Y’all have a good day ya hear?”

Michael took stock of the new animals he had but got confused when he saw that he had a bull. There was no bull on the list and information on how to approach the bull. So, he quickly tried to reach the drivers before they all left.

“Hey, dude! Wait!” He yelled after them.

“Yes, sir?” the driver asked

“Why is there no information on how to approach the bull?”

“What bull? We did not bring you a bull dude.”

“What? There is a bull.”

The driver looked back, and said, “Sorry dude, I do not deal with bulls. Good luck!”

Michael got all the animals settled down and taken care of except for one. The bull would not settle down and he just kept getting angrier. Michael took his red and white rag from his pocket and wiped his brow and face, adjusted his hat and looked up in enough time to see the bull charging right at him.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He was found later, a gruesome sight, some of his body parts still missing he had lived only a short time after being found. He had been tortured first before finally dying. His head almost completely detached from his body.

R.I.P Michael may you not rest in peace, but instead burn in hell!