I have never been one for
relationships. I have to fuck cows all day and I love it. I love making your
dinner! My children give you the protein you need to train longer, harder and
better.
Cows are a pain in the arse. They
are generally quite stupid and the breeds that are here on the farm at the
moment are no exception to this. Any way, I have not always been a smooth,
seductive sex machine. I was born and grew up on a farm near Wimborne in Dorset
and it was there that I experienced true love for a time. I guess the fall out
from what I’m about to tell you directly impacted on the bull I am today.
Back then I couldn’t give a rats
arse about the taste of meat. Ignorance was bliss and as long as you covered a
steak in enough creamy peppercorn sauce all was good! You could pretend it had
flavour whilst your mouth tasted the flames of the pepper and all you got from
the meet was the substance. Back then life was great. The farm had balance and
tractors had soul; (with proper gears, griizly engines and everything).
I met a cow there called Jo who
was a jersey but born in Dorset like me. We instantly clicked. Culturally we
had been born into two different breeds yet we both felt proud of our Dorset heritage
too. Other’s on the farm back then couldn’t get their heads around us being
together though.
We had a great relationship. She
produced milk fit for Cleopatra to bath in, which made me proud to be around
her. Her butter was creamy and what she could do to a bowl of cornflakes was
truly off the rickter scale! I was in love, hook line and sinker. Unfortunately
it was diversity that killed this ultimate bond as the farmer brought in the
fucking French. – And they are cunts. With their supposed ‘superior flavour’ and
arrogant attitude as a consequence, it didn’t take long for this prick Limousin bull called Thierry
to move in on Jo and steal her from me.
I was a broken bull. During the
fall out I realised that me and Jo couldn’t be friends. I certainly couldn’t
live with seeing them together. His arrogance was enough to enrage me. The only
way to beat him was to produce more youngsters than him tasting far better. I
was proud of my potential. I knew my black ass could produce a superior flavour
and I knew I could pump cattle so hard, I could raise an army of product and
single handily keep Burger King in business. So I moved farms, did a deal with
the new farmer and implemented a policy of mass produced, great tasting steak.
I’m knackered most of the time with all this fucking, as I even fuck for other
farmers too and sometimes for free, just to spite Thierry.
Every now and then it still gets me down a bit though. Top Gun Kes is probably the best person on the farm to deal with during these sour moments. Kes drives a massive John Deere and is really good at perking me up. She takes things to an extreme, which is cool. Not long ago I was so down about it that she drove out to my home farm and bull rustled the French cunt.
I really am not proud of what we
did to him that night, when she got him back here. Knuckles The Magpie cut his
tongue out, proper Native American style. He painted Thierry’s face red, put a
leather jacket on and then inserted a totem pole up is arse. I shot some video
of Knuckles doing this and then killed him. Kes had left the John Deere running
so we butchered the motherfucker and cooked us some T-bones on the engine
manifold.
The fucking drag is he tasted so
good. What a cunt. Even pisses me off when he’s dead. I still cant decide
weather to get Kes to go back and rustle Jo The Jersey too. Guess she’ll be
living in fear for the rest of her life any way, which is just as good as
cutting her up I guess.
This is why I don’t do relationships. I get drawn in, get fucked over and then get bullish. I know I killed him, but us bulls – and all other wild animals don’t have the same moral code or punishment system as humans do, so it’s OK! Ah well, in hindsight it seems as though it’s Survival of the fittest but maybe not the tastiest. You French cunt.
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