Cow Lore
A long... long time ago, in a distant galaxy, was the planet "Cud". On
this ancient planet lived the warlike race of the Cowfolk, a race of people
who had evolved and broken into two major groups. The first group, the
"Beefers", were a very rough and barbaric race. They were the type who
enjoyed loud music and a mug of ale, with a serving wench on their lap...
even the women. Their leader, known as "Mike The Big Tough Guy" was a
large man of great poundage. He had unkept hair that flew wildly in the
wind, and a cute, wellgroomed moustashe. The Beefers worked hard and
played hard... and smelled.
The tavern was alive with music, the thumps of dancing and clapping,
and cheers of ...
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of deafening cheers, which soon died back down. "You
are all people of war... and when we clash tomorrow, I want you to do what
you do best. I want you to destroy whoever gets in your way." Another round
of cheers exploded, then died down. "Tomorrow, milk will be released from
the confines of their bodies... it will flow through o'er the plains like a
river... and will dye the moon white!" He held up his large tankard of ale
to the ceiling. "We will show our true selves to The Great One In The
Sky... we will show our Lord, the mighty Black Angus, that we are worthy of
him! To YOU, my Lord!" Mike lowered his arm and swilled the remainder of
the ale. With the backward tossing of his head causing unconsciousness,
Mike lost his balance and fell backwards, crashing down heavily onto a
nearby table, cracking it in half. The tavern broke into wild cheers of
excitement... Mike had aroused their carnal lust for milk, and they poured
out of the small inn and into the dark streets, ...
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the armour with all his
force. Colourful sparks flew from the point of impact, but upon inspection,
the armour remained completely unscathed.
"Very impressive," Fred said, stroking the point of impact with his
fingers to feel for any damage, of which he could find none. "Very
impressive, indeed."
"And you ask if it'll hold," the blacksmith mocked him.
"Well, that first sword you made me snapped in half when I tripped over
it," Fred explained, standing up straight.
"That's got nothin' to do with it," the blacksmith yelled. "It was
faulty metal, I tell you... NOT my work... look, the Beefers are likely
going to attack at dawn. DO you, or do you NOT want my ...
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Cow Lore. (2007, January 5). Retrieved November 22, 2024, from http://www.essayworld.com/essays/Cow-Lore/58242
"Cow Lore." Essayworld.com. Essayworld.com, 5 Jan. 2007. Web. 22 Nov. 2024. <http://www.essayworld.com/essays/Cow-Lore/58242>
"Cow Lore." Essayworld.com. January 5, 2007. Accessed November 22, 2024. http://www.essayworld.com/essays/Cow-Lore/58242.
"Cow Lore." Essayworld.com. January 5, 2007. Accessed November 22, 2024. http://www.essayworld.com/essays/Cow-Lore/58242.
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