Moolie, Joolie and…
(with a LOT of help from my friends…)
Moolie hung her shaggy head. Long fur shielded her large brown eyes, sheltering tears that plopped softly, one by one, into soft grasses that cushioned her hooves. She reached down and nibbled a tender blade.
“Why couldn’t Joolie stay here, with me?” she sniffed. “The turnips over there can’t taste any better than this grass! And why should a cow yearn for adventure?” she asked the morning doves cooing in the nearby apple trees.
She mooed. Perhaps if she was listening, Joolie would return to where she belonged, with Moolie.
Hearing noises in the distance, Moolie looked up. She peered across the stout wooden railing that surrounded McDonald’s Divine Bovine Acres. “What is it, doves? Can you fly over and tell me?” But the doves just continued cooing.
The noises grew louder and more distinct. “Woof! Woof! Woof!” echoed through the narrow valley. High-pitched bleats rose in a crescendo. “Oh, no!” Moolie cried. “It’s the sheep! If that lot catches Joolie, she’ll be burger for sure!”
“Mr. Hawk! Mr. Hawk! Tell me, please, how can I find Joolie?”
Heeding his directions, Moolie galloped towards the bleating to prevent a beating. She glimpsed Joolie’s large shaggy head, surrounded by a woolly-capped crowd. Giant turnips hung from the sheep’s bared teeth. The fiercest of the flock, Sheila, circled round the hapless heifer, pinning her against a rocky outcrop.
“I’ll save you, Joolie!” Moolie cried. She pawed the ground, lowered her head, and charged towards Sheila.
But she wasn’t fast enough (being a cow) to get there before the turnips flew! Joolie let out a moo-ow, as the veggies rained down upon her. Moolie realized she would need a weapon, she looked down, and round, and saw…
Moolie POPPED Sheila in the tush with such force that Shelia couldn’t help SQUISH the turnips in her mouth, spitting drooly bits all over her fellow meanie sheep as she shook off the hit.
But then quickly Moolie stopped short, when she decided she needed more ammunition. She then turned and ran under the apple tree. All the sheep started laughing, thinking Moolie had run away scared. But moments later KIR-SPLAT!, SWOOSH, SLAP came a barrage of apples pummeling the sheep. Sheila used her own ‘devices’ and squirted Moolie right into her ear -SHSHHHTT!
“AAAAGGHH!” wailed Moolie, shaking her big head! As Joolie watched from the sidelines she knew it was the perfect opportunity to jump in and – PLONK – knock away Shelia’s cooking baster so she couldn’t blind them with sheep saliva. Joolie looked around. “Not enough apples or turnips,” She said.
Still shaking her head and spluttering, Moolie said, “There are too many of them. We need something bigger. Follow me.”
The two cows ran as fast as they could with the whole flock of sheep chasing them across the turnip field.
“You can’t get away from us,” Sheila shouted.
The cows reached the barn and turned a corner.
“There,” Moolie pointed at piles of fruits and vegetables. “The melons are perfect.”She hefted one and lobbed at the herd of sheep. WOOSHOOP! CRACK, CRASH, KERPLUNCK – Melons began rolling past Moolie and Joolie, dropping sheep like bowling pins.
They turned to see Gussy goat, whose herd stood behind him at the ready. “They’re such bullies. We’ll help you stop ‘em girls!”
Being great climbers, Gussy and his herd scrambled up the boxes stacked high next to the barn. From there, SHWING and SPLUNK- they flung the tomatoes, they found in the top boxes, with their horns and blinded the stampeding sheep.
Gussy picked up a vine of juicy melons, and SCHWING, SCHWING, SCHWING, swung them around and around, building momentum. SWOOSH and BLAM! Gussy let go and the entire vine with ripe melons flattened the group of sheep. Sheila struggled to her feet, and…
With a BAH and a BLEAT, beat a rapid retreat.
“You’re back,” mooed Moolie to Joolie, “Right where you belong.”
“And if I ever try to leave again,” replied Joolie, “Please, stop me. Convince me that I’m wrong!”