WEB EXCLUSIVE

What does one do when he dosen’t have a homecoming date?  Well, in my case, I simply went out to the cow pasture and approached Moo, who looks like a Chick Fil-A cow, but fatter. When my mom turned on the jazz radio, my cow began to step back and forth and swing her head, dancing to the music. So for my Homecoming night, I danced with her ‘till the sun went down.

We first figured out that our cows could dance two months ago. My mother and I were feeding one afternoon and we were in a jazzy mood and put on the radio. The cows simultaneously started to side-step and swing their heads—all 22 of them. We cut the radio to see what would happen. They stopped. They started to get mad, stamping their feet and bellowing at the top of their lungs. The sound, almost breaking through the sound barriers, nearly made both my mother and I go deaf, so we put the jazz back on. We found their dancing funny–but it would save them when my aunt would almost burn down our house.

Last Sunday, my aunt decided to light some dry leaves and twigs and things that she raked up from the lawn the day before. So she went to the big pile and started a mini fire which led to the big fire. She planned to contain it, but it turned out to be too close to some trees.

The fire caught to the trees and dropped to the dry brush and began a small brush fire. I saw the flames and knew my animals needed to escape, so I ran home and opened their gates.

As I went inside to call the fire department, I saw the cows dance their way past the fence.

When the firefighters arrived, they told me they had seen two cows jumping and prancing down the road. Their faces were red from laughing hysterically.

I went down the road and found my cows still dancing their merry tunes. The fire was put out, and the smoke trailed down to my house while I put the cows back in their pastures. The tendrils of smoke snaked into their pastures. The cows pranced about to escape the smoke, so the dancing line continued.

People from all down the road came to look at these cows, so my mom joked that we should charge a dollar to come see the dancing cows.

Whenever one plays jazz music, my cows dance triumphantly. We have tried playing other music for them, but all it leads to is cows bellowing at the top of their lungs. Lesson learned—when the cows start dancing, let ‘em dance.