En Passant

        

                                Excerpt from
                  There’s No Such Things As Cows

                                         An Anthropomorphic Tale of Theo's Transmogrification

 

                                                               Chapter 1
                                                         The Awakening

He probably didn’t even really mean it. It was probably said in jest, sort of like when somebody says, “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.” Now, not saying they wouldn’t, mind you, especially with horse meat being considered a delicacy nowadays. Equisetum aside, though, one would have to be awfully hungry to consume an entire horse, assuming one meant at one sitting. Still, as I was saying, it was, in all probability, said only in fun. I mean, surely Theo didn’t really want to become a cow. But I’m getting ahead of myself, not to mention you.

The Robinson reunion was an annual affair, fraught with forced amenities and family anecdotes and vid of pretend family fun. Theo was having more troubles at school than he cared to recall and he didn’t relish the thought of rotund aunts pinching his own chubby cheeks. He didn’t need this. All he needed was rest and good grades, and it wasn’t likely that he would receive either in the near future.

The sun was setting as the last guests arrived to start the weekend. Theo was standing in the corner of the living room gazing out the window at cows lolling in the pasture. It was just as he was turning to enter his bedroom that he heard and, regrettably, saw his Aunt Frizi forcefully striding at him with a moderate replica of herself under her wing.

“Theo! Oh Theo!” Frizi melodiously bellowed. “I don’t believe you’ve seen your cousin Amy tonight, have you”?

“No, ma’am” he said as he stumbled into his room and closed the door behind him. Just before flicking the light switch, perhaps with grazing bovine imprinted on his brain, he lightly sighed, “Man, I wish I was a cow.” (He didn’t wish it, but he said it.) [I mean, he said it out loud.  You saw it right there.  He can't deny it.  He really has no one but himself to blame.]

He stood blinking, assessing. His bedroom appeared a first-rate, authentic, honest-to-goodness true pasture.

After a stunned moment, he swung around to visit the company he had just eagerly left behind. But instead of a door barring his entrance to the hall, there was now a gate in the midst of a fence, beyond which stretched an endless number of grassy rolling acres.

Theo turned back around, and as he was doing so he noticed something strange, awkwardly heavy yet vexingly natural, in his movements. Facing the same direction he had entered his room just seconds before, Theo saw cattle spread about the land. Once again he turned – more like swayed – around to face the gate that once was his door. As he reached for the latch he stumbled and tumbled. On his back momentarily, he saw four hooves -- HOOVES, for goodness’ sake -- dangling above him, each hoof being attached to legs remarkably like a cow’s. Quickly he righted himself and it seemed he weighed a ton.

“Naw, it can’t be,” he thought. (And that’s exactly how he thought it.) He noticed a pond glimmering in the distance and straightway set out for it.

“No one’s gonna believe this. No one’s gonna believe this. I don’t believe this.” He approached the pond. All around him now were cows, ugly cows, insipid cows, chewing, not giving him a second--or even a first, for that matter--notice.

When Theo reached the pond, he was consumed by a desire to take a sip . . . a sip of dirty ol’ stagnant smelly putrid pond water, for goodness’ sake. He lowered his head, but before he even lapped up the first taste, he jumped back for a startled second. Was that a cow staring back at him from the ersatz looking-glass? He cautiously sidled to the wet edge. Looking straight down he saw, sure enough, two huge orbs set in an ugly plump mug. Staring straight back at him. Two knots inside his ears confirmed he was a bull.

He rationalized. “If I was a cow, then it seems to me I should think some cows prettier than others.” He scanned the pasture, glancing from cow to cow. Nope. No distinctions. They all looked ugly. Nothing differentiated one from another, except maybe an extra udder or two.

Time flitted. Theo strolled. Cows lowed. Recurrences of his behavior precipitating the transmutation ran through his skull like an infomercial. He saw in slow motion the watery undulation of Frizi’s wattle as she waddled toward him, how he slid into his room sans familial courtesy. He knew he was closer to the Pillsbury Dough Boy than to Leo DeCaprio and in no position to judge appearances. But he wasn’t remorseful of his behavior, just sorry that he was a participant in this nightmare.

Eventually he reached a barn. It wasn’t very pretty. It was dilapidated, lacked a door and could have used a couple of boards to plug roof cracks. At one time it might have been red, but now it was a dingy gray with occasional splotches of pink, like his grandmother.

Staring at the barn, not looking at it, Theo was roused from his reverie by the sound of voices . . . HUMAN VOICES. They were indistinct, practically inaudible, but definite. Theo took off at a quick gallop (actually, a slow plodding, but to Theo a cow’s trudge was a boy’s run) toward the barn corner whence they seemed to emanate. But when he reached and sped around the corner, he saw and heard nobody, just a couple of cows in a tree grove.  He trotted on around the barn and checked the premises for any sign of human life, but found none. As he circled back around, however, he observed the two cows in the grove eyeing him conspicuously. One was white, almost bleached; the other, wan and dusty. I mean, from what he could tell. What constitutes a wan cow? But that’s fodder for another feeder.

Theo guardedly approached. Something was different about those two cows, though he couldn’t put his human finger on it. But what? They were ugly enough to be cows. They acted indolent enough to be cows. Anyone who saw them would say they were cows. “The eyes!” he realized. Oh, the eyes looked enough like cows’ eyes . . . but these were fixed on Theo, following his every movement. All the other cows Theo had seen had not taken any special notice of him, and hardly any gave more than a cursory glance, no inspection, nothing more than a second or two of dizzying goggled denseness.

“Hello,” said the bleached cow in a sonorous tone. “Are you one of us?”

Theo didn’t comprehend the question. He was so startled and elated over the greeting that he stumbled backwards onto the ground, again momentarily spying hovering hooves. (He had no way of knowing this, but he had been on his back two more times in the space of an hour than most cows are in a lifetime.) “Huh?” he questioned, being the quick-witted cow that he was.

“I thought so,” said the cow. “But a simple ‘yes’ would have done ever so nicely, don’t you think? I know I do.”

“But . . .” Theo stammered, “Who are you?”

“I’m Jake and this is Louis. Welcome to the club.”

“Pardon?”

“Certainly. For what?”

“‘The Club’”?

“Well,” Jake said, “That’s what we like to call it, Louis and I, although we’ve never actually called it that until now, which makes it officious, I should think. Hmmm. Yes, yes, it is officious. It’s simple enough, and membership changes all the time, so we thought it best to keep it that way. Simple, that is.”

“But . . . You’re cows.” Bulls, actually, Theo noticed for the first time. Jake had a pair of bulbous horns that projected strength more than danger. Louis’ horns were and slim and pointed, just inside the ears.

Jake said, “Hmmm, well, yes, I suppose we are. But we really aren’t now, are we? I mean, we’re cows, you can see that, plain and sure, but we can talk, too, there, can’t we? And how many talking cows have you met? Beside Louis and me, that is? And in case you haven’t noticed, you too are a cow, and quite a convincing one at that. So, though we are cows, we really aren’t now, are we? Have I said that? Oh, yes, I believe I have. But anyway, do you feel like a cow? I know I don’t. And what, pray tell, is your name?”

“I . . .” Theo sputtered, trying absorb everything Jake had said, “I am Theo Robinson.”

“‘Theo’, yes, yes, that’s a name for you. But second names won’t do, oh no no no no, we can’t have ending names. Is ‘Theodore’ or ‘Theophilus’ or ‘Theodryxpahli’ your full name?”

“Yeah, ‘Theodore,’ but I prefer ‘Theo.’ It’s what everybody calls me.”

 

“Everybody being Louis and I?”

“Well, no, everybody being --- Well, okay, I guess for right now, you are everybody.”

“For right now?”

“Um, well, aren’t I going to change?”

“You already have,” Louis said, speaking for the first time.

Slightly startled at the new voice, Theo paused and defined, “No, I mean, back to the way I was.”

“And how were you?” Louis asked, speaking for the second time.

“I was . . . What kind of question is that? How were you?”

“Oh, dandy thank you,” Jake answered. “But what he meant was, ‘What were you?’ I suppose. Yes, yes, I’m quite certain that’s what he meant. Just what were you?”

“I dunno. A regular guy, Joe Average, you know, a person like anybody else.”

“A perssson?” Louis clarified. “You mean a hooman perssson?”

A bit miffed, Theo said, “Of course. What did you think I was, a bed pillow?”

“Oh no,” Jake jumped in, “Not at all. No no no no no, I didn’t think that at all, because I don’t know what that is, so it seems plain to me that I couldn’t have meant that, and it occurs to me that you might now know that. No no no, I thought . . . Well, that doesn’t matter. But you see, Theo, I am -- was -- a whale, a blue whale, and Louis here was a bird, a hawk, before the change. So you see . . .”

Theo interrupted. “But how can that be? I can understand every word you're saying and you can understand me. How?”

“Well, you know, Theo, I have not figured that one out myself. Has your self, Louis?”

“Nooooooo.”

“But here we are now, aren’t we?” Jake continued. “Everyone who has changed can understand each other, for some reason, in their own language. There are . .”

“You mean there are others?” Theo incredulously queried.

“Oh, yes, others, many others, and I suppose it is time you meet who there is to meet. You see, as I neglected to tell you, Louis and I are sort of the welcoming committee, so ‘Welcome’. Follow us. We’ll talk as we walk and walk as we talk and do both of the two together.” They did so.

“How long have you two been the welcoming committee, Jake?”

“Oh me, oh my, let’s see. I have been doing this sort of work, as we call it, for about a long time, and Louis here just joined me about, well, not even that long ago. We meet all kinds, oh yes we do, we have fish, birds, human persons, frogs, horses, sheep, dogs . . .”

“You have humans?” Theo gleefully erupted.

“We've,” Jake clipped.

“How many, Jake?”

“Well, let’s see. There were none when Louis and I left camp this morning, so maybe they’re still not there.”

The trio made their way over streams and through woodlands, under tunnels and around knolls, with the landscape a mostly muddy marble. In the far distance, on his right and left horizons, Theo noted the deftly changing beryl of parallel rolling lands. Nondescript dinginess directed his immediate trek, though. Trees hundreds of feet high and statues carved from bushes and rocks bordered their sojourn. The carvings piqued Theo’s interest.

“Are you an organized society, Jake?”

“Hummph.  Oh, heavens no, not at all, no no no, not at all. We’re just whoever we are and nothing more.”

“Well, who are you? I mean, I know everyone’s been changed and there’s lots of different species and all, but I mean, why cows, of all things? And you said something earlier about your membership constantly changing. What do you mean?”

Jake said nothing for a moment.

“As I have told you, Theodore, I am a blue whale. It’s been a wistful time, if that’s the word. Wistful.” Jake rolled it around as if tasting wine, nodded his approval, then continued. “My spouse Deora and I were swimming the blue-green Caribbean together. It was the first time either of us had been in sky-tinted sea. We’d just seen a school of dolphins -- beautiful, sleek, graceful creatures, they -- gliding with and against the current, playing with a human person tub at the surface and clowning around as they always do. Everyone liked the dolphins. Except the sharks, of course, but who cares for sharks but sharks? And always, always playing . . . The dolphins, that is, not sharks. Sharks just grouse and shred and look dour. But I suppose they are content. I have never seen one around here. That would be fascinating, to see a shark as a cow. Fascinating, that is, in a poisoned loathing bilious sort of way.”

Louis pulled a tuft of grass as he strolled by it, chewing on the run. Theo reminded Jake, “So what about the club constantly changing, and us being cows, and the dolphins, Jake?”

“Oh, yes, the dolphins. Deora and I were aside them, and I was mesmerized by them, content to be in their presence, but longing for something else, too. They always played, always played, helping creatures too ignorant to appreciate it, sharing their games with anyone who wanted to join them.” Jake added softly, "And raping. Sometimes raping. The raping was annoying."  Jake sighed and fell pensive.

Theo’s curiosity engaged and when the awkward quietude grew heavy, he prompted, “Well, what happened, Jake?”

“I am sorry, Theodore. I must have been reminiscing. A terrible thing, reminiscence; it always takes you to the past.” He paused.  

“Deora, my lovely, and I followed the dolphins for a spell, all the while dreaming -- rather, I was -- of their graceful carefree easy aspect, the refined insouciance, the confident nonchalance, when I stupidly sputtered some notion to the effect that I wished to be a non-raping dolphin rather than the clumsy behemoth I was. No sooner had the sentiment left my spout than I was here. Or, to be precise, a few ways over from here, in the alleyway, close to where you appeared. I was frightened at first. I still am when I think of it hard enough. I try not to think of it hard enough. After a few little whiles, I discovered the impossible. And here I remain, impossible but cow-like.”

Theo stayed silent for what he thought was a decent amount of time. It wouldn’t have been respectful to talk immediately after Jake’s tale, and it certainly wouldn’t have been fitting to ask another question right afterward. So Theo remained silent a decent enough time, and then he blurted, “How often does your membership change?”

“Well,” Jake started, not minding the crudity at all, “Some disappear as suddenly as they appear, and others appear as suddenly as the other some disappear. So, you see, Theodore, we’re consistently inconsistent.”

Theo feigned comprehension. “How long have you been here, Jake?”

“Silent,” Jake whispered, and with that silence was all that was spoken.

The ensemble went through a sort of tunnel made by underbrush, and exited quite suddenly into a ringed thicket.

 

Congregated inside the circle were cows, ugly cows, some associating with one another in groups, some in pairs, and some by themselves, as if disdaining the whole situation. On Theo’s right partially in a clearing was a herd, four or five apiece, in three separate columns. At the head of the herd, facing them muzzle to muzzle, was a solitary cow, and the only cow talking.

 

“There you belong,” Louis said, butting Theo forward.

They walked over to the group, and when they were about five paces off, the head cow hesitated, looked at Theo, then nodded to Jake.

“This is Theodore, human person.   We collared him on the far field.  I’ve briefly explained to him about the club.”

The head cow acknowledged Jake’s prompt. “The Club?”

“Yup.”

 

“Very well. Take a place, Theodore.”

Theo, at Jake’s guidance, stepped into the last row.

 

******************end of excerpt*************wp

 

Welcome Aboard, Theo