Yesterday I went to a grassy pasture with my clothes on. I tracked a big game animal. It was called a cow. These cows! Let me tell you! They are so big! Cows are large! Picture a car, cut in half. Picture that half car covered in flat fur like boots. Like paint. Picture all of that but give it breathing and you have a cow. Cows make low noises. Bellowing like sadness. Deep voiced like my mother, like when she would try to sing my dad back from the sea. Now. Now you know of cows.

Me and this field. Me and my clothes on. There was a hot sun and no breeze. I took that field with my feet until I came upon a cow. The BEST cow. I just knew. I just knew it was the best cow. It was a feeling I had. I trusted my feeling. I didn’t call bullshit on my feeling. I was like, Feeling, you and me.

My feet dug into the grass.

My feet dug into the grass.

All of that and then I sprang for the cow. I embraced it. Nothing violent. I loved that cow until it died. Everybody should die the way that cow died. I am not trying to brag. It is just the truth. It is just how it was.

I drug the cow through the pasture. I drug the cow back the way I had come. It was easy because of the flattened grass. I saw where I had zigged and I saw where I had zagged. While I dragged I thought if the world was made of pasture grass, we could all see where we’d ever been. We would never make mistakes. We would know from looking behind us. A green recording of things.

The ending of this all is that I butchered the cow in my garage. For this, I had no clothes. I wanted to bathe in its warm blood. A tribute. An honoring. I know it might be disturbing for some. But I was wet with red most all afternoon.

I made steaks. Lots of steaks. So much meat. I took pictures of the meat and texted it to every contact in my contacts list in my phone. I also posted all of the meat pictures on facebook and google plus. I got lots of comments and likes and plus ones. Especially in the pictures where you can see my bloody feet. There was grass on them. Grass stuck on the blood on my feet! Imagine those colors!

xTx is a writer living in Southern California. She has been published in places like PANK, Smokelong, Storyglossia, elimae, >Kill Author and Wigleaf. Her new story collection, Normally Special, is available from Tiny Hardcore Press. She says nothing at www.notimetosayit.com.