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BULLFIGHT


My parents had some cattle at one time, and they had a young bull who needed to be neutered, but they hadn't done it yet. Father (remember, he was a man of great dignity: a dentist, and an attorney – as well as a drunk) was out fixing a baffle in their water trough, and was bending over the edge of it fixing the thing inside. That young bull came over and mounted him. Father couldn't get up, and couldn't get out from under the bull. He called to my mother, who came running, but she saw what was happening, and she laughed so hard she fell down. She got up and grabbed a pitchfork, and ran over there to help Father. However, Father, in his zeal, had locked the gate into the cattle's enclosure, and Mother had to climb over the fence, holding the pitchfork, laughing her eyes out, in order to get to him. She finally did poke the bull a couple of times and he ran away. Father was so mad, he wanted to kill the bull immediately, and was thinking about finishing off Mother, as well. I would have laughed myself to death had I been there. I understand that that young bull was quite generously endowed. It's a good thing that Father was wearing jeans... PROBABLY 1968.


 

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