Once upon a time in a far, far away kingdom there was a beautiful princess…and that’s the end of that. I just wanted to start out as a classic fairy tale story. It brings back memories from times long gone.   

In reality there is no kingdom, and there is no beautiful princess. Instead, there is a cow who lives on a farm in a small town named Smalltown. Her name is Lily. The other cows in the herd named her Ludicrous Lily because she is … yes, ludicrous.  Between you and me I suspect greatly that the one that did the naming was a cow by the name of Rosie Rottweiler.  

But Ludicrous Lily was a unique cubic cow, and her milk was eggnog, vanilla latte, gluehwein and pisco sour, among others. She was so lightheaded that she floated. The other cows were also cubic and floated too but they were not unique.  Farmer Smith and his wife Penny would milk their cows by bouncing on a trampoline and reaching for their udders.  

On sunny days Ludicrous Lily’s skin would get red and itchy. Her skin was sensitive, so she would carry a red parasol to protect herself.  The other cows in the herd didn’t mind Ludicrous Lily’s sensitive skin but they wished they had a red parasol too. It looked fancy and was, most likely probable, fashionable.   It prompted Gladys Spotty to utter “Holy cow! All she needs is a pair of sunglasses!”

The clouds above carried people including old man Harry who had a rocking chair, a floor lamp and a book titled: “Clean Jokes For Dirty Old Men”. Once in a while he would laugh so hard that he would end up rolling to the edge of his cloud hanging by the tips of his fingers.   But don’t you worry, old man Harry was wearing a pair of Velcro gloves. And the edge of the cloud was made of… that’s right. Velcro. So, he would climb back up and turn to page 12,383, second paragraph of his book to continue reading the joke that made him laugh to the edge of his cloud. 

Down below on the green country field Stephanus the old apple tree would shake his branches and a bunch of Red Delicious, Gala, Honeycrisp, Fuji, Granny Smith, Golden Delicious, Braeburn, Jazz, Pink Crisp, McIntosh, Pink Lady, Empire, Cosmic Crisp apples would fall onto the ground for anyone to eat. The Smiths would collect them and give them to their neighbors. And their neighbors would thank them, but they would also implore them for some of Ludicrous Lily’s milk.  I guess they wanted to be ludicrous too. I’m only guessing.

At the end of the day, when the dark night would push the sundown down and would show its holes, the Smiths would sit in front of their fireplace and relax after a long day bouncing on their trampoline and would wonder decisively if they should write a story about their life in the farm of cubic cows. 

      THE END

© The Artist On The Hill