Read Online The Boy Who Killed Grant Parker by Kat Spears - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kat Spears
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Grantâs voice held a warning, and I looked questioningly at Penny, but she just rolled her eyes and looked away.
âWhat are the chances the cow will kill me after I tip it?â I asked, trying to keep my voice casual to hide my unease.
âMm,â Grant said as if he were really considering the odds. âSlim to none. Just run real fast while itâs still on the ground.â He laughed after he said this, a laugh that invited me to join in. I tried to laugh along, but my heart wasnât in it.
âIf I donât do this, youâll never let me live it down, right?â I asked as I suppressed a small sigh.
âNot likely,â Grant said with a nod toward the closest cow, just a black hole in the absolute darkness beyond the light of the fire.
As I walked toward the cow I found myself high-stepping quietly through the grass as if I were a caveman sneaking up on a mammoth, or maybe Elmer Fudd sneaking up on Bugs Bunny. This was the closest I had ever been to livestock, and the experience was somewhat disquieting.
The cow remained still as I approached, and I silently prayed that it would not make any sudden movements, would not stampede and trample me to death or whatever it was cows do when they react with fear or anger. My heart was hammering so hard in my chest I couldnât believe the noise wouldnât wake every cow within a mile.
The headlights from Grantâs truck cut on suddenly, startling me so much that I jerked in fright. I was so tightly wound that the abrupt introduction of artificial light was almost audible. My eyes had been adjusted to the dark, but now I could see the brown of the cowâs coat and the white mask of its face. The light did not disturb the cow, and it remained still.
When I came alongside the cow, I paused to take a deep breath and steel my resolve. I turned sideways and dropped my shoulder in preparation for my attack. With one final glance over my shoulder at the group that hung clustered near Grantâs truck, just a mass of silhouettes from my perspective, I planted my right foot and leaned into it, slamming my shoulder into the thickest part of the beast and pushing with all my might.
Almost immediately, I realized that I was doomed to fail. Pushing the cow was like pushing against a house or a car. The cow didnât even stumble but instead swung its head on the massively powerful neck to eye me curiously. Not docile and bovine, but self-aware and seriously annoyed.
The cow had not been asleep. It had merely been standing still, as any large animal with the same cranial capacity of a cow would, stupidly surveying its surroundings and contemplating the meaning of life.
The cow dropped its head as if it had a sudden interest in grazing, while I stood frozen, waiting to see how the situation would play out. Before I could decide whether to run or back away slowly and quietly, the head, bigger and heavier than an anvil, swung up and cracked me under the chin with the broad flat of its nose. My teeth cracked together and I saw stars, both literally and figuratively, as I fell onto my back.
My fall to the ground didnât really hurt anything other than my pride. The long grass was soft, and my fall was additionally pillowed by a pile of cowshit, made slimy from a recent rain.
I stood quickly to avoid being stepped on by the cow, now eyeing me menacingly as it waited to see what I would do. It took one threatening step toward me, and I was so scared I stumbled backward and fell again.
By now I was aware of the howls of laughter coming across the field from my audience, and I was so angry I forgot to be afraid. I stood for one minute looking at them all as they laughed; Grant was doubled over hugging his gut as he laughed the loudest.
I started to brush off my backside to remove the worst of the debris that clung to my clothes but I ended up just spreading the cowshit or grinding it into the fabric of my jeans.
Grant and his
âWhat are the chances the cow will kill me after I tip it?â I asked, trying to keep my voice casual to hide my unease.
âMm,â Grant said as if he were really considering the odds. âSlim to none. Just run real fast while itâs still on the ground.â He laughed after he said this, a laugh that invited me to join in. I tried to laugh along, but my heart wasnât in it.
âIf I donât do this, youâll never let me live it down, right?â I asked as I suppressed a small sigh.
âNot likely,â Grant said with a nod toward the closest cow, just a black hole in the absolute darkness beyond the light of the fire.
As I walked toward the cow I found myself high-stepping quietly through the grass as if I were a caveman sneaking up on a mammoth, or maybe Elmer Fudd sneaking up on Bugs Bunny. This was the closest I had ever been to livestock, and the experience was somewhat disquieting.
The cow remained still as I approached, and I silently prayed that it would not make any sudden movements, would not stampede and trample me to death or whatever it was cows do when they react with fear or anger. My heart was hammering so hard in my chest I couldnât believe the noise wouldnât wake every cow within a mile.
The headlights from Grantâs truck cut on suddenly, startling me so much that I jerked in fright. I was so tightly wound that the abrupt introduction of artificial light was almost audible. My eyes had been adjusted to the dark, but now I could see the brown of the cowâs coat and the white mask of its face. The light did not disturb the cow, and it remained still.
When I came alongside the cow, I paused to take a deep breath and steel my resolve. I turned sideways and dropped my shoulder in preparation for my attack. With one final glance over my shoulder at the group that hung clustered near Grantâs truck, just a mass of silhouettes from my perspective, I planted my right foot and leaned into it, slamming my shoulder into the thickest part of the beast and pushing with all my might.
Almost immediately, I realized that I was doomed to fail. Pushing the cow was like pushing against a house or a car. The cow didnât even stumble but instead swung its head on the massively powerful neck to eye me curiously. Not docile and bovine, but self-aware and seriously annoyed.
The cow had not been asleep. It had merely been standing still, as any large animal with the same cranial capacity of a cow would, stupidly surveying its surroundings and contemplating the meaning of life.
The cow dropped its head as if it had a sudden interest in grazing, while I stood frozen, waiting to see how the situation would play out. Before I could decide whether to run or back away slowly and quietly, the head, bigger and heavier than an anvil, swung up and cracked me under the chin with the broad flat of its nose. My teeth cracked together and I saw stars, both literally and figuratively, as I fell onto my back.
My fall to the ground didnât really hurt anything other than my pride. The long grass was soft, and my fall was additionally pillowed by a pile of cowshit, made slimy from a recent rain.
I stood quickly to avoid being stepped on by the cow, now eyeing me menacingly as it waited to see what I would do. It took one threatening step toward me, and I was so scared I stumbled backward and fell again.
By now I was aware of the howls of laughter coming across the field from my audience, and I was so angry I forgot to be afraid. I stood for one minute looking at them all as they laughed; Grant was doubled over hugging his gut as he laughed the loudest.
I started to brush off my backside to remove the worst of the debris that clung to my clothes but I ended up just spreading the cowshit or grinding it into the fabric of my jeans.
Grant and his
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