“We lost another cow Bob,” Randy stated through a voice that sounded thicker than a mouth full of peanut butter. “Ol’ Betsy didn’t come in
from the field to eat this morning. That’s four we’ve lost this week.
“Damn it!” Bob swore with all the hate he could muster. “It those Campbell boys I’m telling you. You can’t trust ‘em for nothing. The
younger one ain’t been out of jail a week now, and I’ll be damned if he’s not going back for stealing my cows.
“You want me to call the Sheriff?” Randy asked, even though he was hesitant to be the one to make the call. He’d just been in Sheriff Burns’
office a few days ago answering some questions about how a stop sign ended up with a few bullet holes in it. Randy had denied having any involvement
even though the guilty rifle was lying in the back seat of his pickup truck.
“No, I call him. That damn sheriff don’t like getting off his rear unless you make him, and I want to be sure he doing his job for once. Why
don’t you go put the herd in the front field so we can keep a better eye on ‘em.” Bob told Randy as he was walking back toward the house.
“I’ll be sure them Campbell boys are taken care of real nice.”
After a short conversation with Sheriff Burns, it was apparent that the Campbell boys weren’t responsible for the loss of his cows. They had spent
the last couple days back in the county jail for causing a ruckus at the local bar. At least they were getting a little of what the deserved, even if
they weren’t guilt of robbing him of his cows.
“It ain’t them Randy.” Bob said with a little frustration oozing into his voice. “You sure you counted all the herd? I know you ain’t so
good with numbers when they’re bigger than what you can count with your fingers.”
“Yes boss. Counted them all three times. There was three missing last night, and Ol’ Betsy being gone makes four. Thank god it ain’t a few
more or I’d be running out of space on my fingers.” Randy spoke back in a smartass tone.
“You move ‘em to the front already?”
“Sure did. Seemed like they was glad to be there too. I didn’t have to do nothing but open the gate, and they damn near stampeded to be the
first one through.”
“I want you out in the fields tonight. We’re going to catch the damn fools trying to rob me of my livelihood. You still got your rifle in the
“You know I do Bob.”
“Good. I want to put a damn hole in whoever comes a trespassing on my property.”
Later that night, Randy was enjoying a good smoke and looking at the stars above his head. This wasn’t too bad of a job once you learned to put up
with the boss man. He could get on your nerves, but he paid better than most of the other farmers around the area. He was beginning the think that
moving here from Tennessee hadn’t been too bad of a change.
Randy felt the presence before he saw anything. He had the feeling of being surrounded by a million eyes, all of them hungry, and he was their meal.
Randy jumped up from the back of his truck, rifle in hand, prepared to shoot whatever was about to come for him. The way he was beginning to feel, he
was hoping he had brought enough bullets.
There was just enough moonlight shining on the field that Randy could see a slight breeze swaying the grass on the other side of the field, and it was
blowing in his direction. Closer and closer the wind came to Randy, but when it finally reached him, he felt nothing. The only reason he knew there
was a wind was because the grass at his feet was swaying rapidly from side to side. He never had time to shoulder his rifle before the blades of the
grass in the field sprung up from all around him, wrapping his body up so tight that Randy was dead long before his body was pulled down into the
“Damn Randy!” Bob exclaimed to his wife the following morning. “He must have fallen asleep out there last night. The cows ain’t been fed
yet, and I can see his truck sitting on the far side of the back field. The man ain’t worth paying.”
Storming out the door before even taking a bite of his breakfast (which pissed off his wife), Bob took off across the field, intent on firing Randy on
the spot. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he ain’t the one stealing my cows,” Bob said to the empty field (that wasn’t so empty).
On the surface of the fields, the hive mind of the grass began to feel the approach of one of the humans. They already knew who it was. It was
the one they were waiting for. This “Bob” human was responsible for the destruction of their young, and for the maiming of millions of their
civilization. They had all witness his “death machine” that cut their family to pieces and left them to wither in the summer heat. It was when
the saw how Bob rolled up their loved ones year after year, and fed them to the cows that they decided it was time to react.
No longer would they lay idle in the fields, being nothing more than fodder for the fat beast. They had already begun taking the cows of the other
farmers, and it wouldn’t be much longer until they killed all the farmers too. The Great God of Grass was with them in their plight.
edit on 8-10-2012 by isyeye because: (no reason given)