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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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