Bill the Bull Black, all black

Mean, just mean

Bill was a 1400 pound black angus destined to be a big bunch of burgers. We lived rural with a fenced 80 acre pasture. Neighbor, an old geezer named Walter, needed to grass a small herd for the summer. Pasture was not being used, so sure, why not? I used to work on cars up in the pasture, and I'm with my 3 year old and we're wandering through the pasture to get some car part. Bill the Bull sees us, and my 3 year old runs like hell to the fence. That struck me as odd until I realized that Bill the Bull was charging. He ran right by me, and just my good luck, because I was watching the little guy as he cleared the fence and into the yard. That was the vanguard of things to come. This bull would charge me everytime I walked into the pasture. I noticed the eye location of cows in general is on the side of the head and figured as they closed in on you, all of a sudden how they see you must change abruptly as one eye is blocked by its location. Also having seen bullfighters on TV, they stand real still and wave their flag and then seem to turn sideways just as the bull reaches them. I copied the move. Stand perfectly still until the bull is about one foot away and abruptly turn sideways and backward at the same time. Works great, bull goes flying by at a dead run every time, and keeps on going. I don't know why they do that. Bill the Bull becomes a fencebreaker. Now he's in the backyard most of the time. He charges people who come to visit. They can see the danger and wisely stay in their cars until I come out, Bill charges me, I twist, Bill goes flying by and keeps on going. Visitors come in the house now.

Bill greets me everyday, morning and evening, same ritual. I really don't mind and he's easy to dodge, but this could be a little dangerous for the kids and visitors. I'm gonna have to take the bull by the horns. Not literallly, but I've got to do something. I found a nice three foot length of pipe, and it occured to me that when I dodged Bill's charge that I could quickly swing this like a club and strike him on the back. Like Pavlov's dogs, he'll begin to think that these attacks are a pain in the ass and stop attacking. Seems like a good idea and works just like I figured except that Bill is a tough s.o.b. and this just pisses him off. Back to the drawing board. Longer pipe would have greater speed and strike with more force, that's what I'll do. Hard to hide an 8 footer behind a 5' 9" individual. Same scenario and I really whacked the bastard. Just pissed him off, more. He don't even know about Pavlov's dogs. Common sense tells me that he's charged me about 300 times and that eventually he will get me. An idea dawns. BB gun. Old Red Ryder, lever action must like a 30/30.Maybe. I went to the house, grabbed a BB gun and fired out the window at Bills hindquarter. Man, that sucker jumped and ran like hell. Now this has possibilities.

The next evening, outside I go, with a BB gun behind my back. Bill sees me, Bill charges, I twist, step back and I'm at a dead run about two feet behind Bill and we're heading across the lawn. Mine eyeballs spot Bill's ball bag between his hind legs. I got you now, you s.o.b., and I put the tip of the barrel about 6 inches from the ball bag and pulled the trigger. Whap! Would you believe a 1400 pound bull can jump straight up about 4 feet. All 4 feet come together right near the middle and then down to earth comes the bull and he's still at a dead run and hasn't broke stride and neither have I. I cocked that gun at a dead run and once again about 10 inches from the ball bag, kwhap. Ouch, that's gotta hurt. Once again 1400 pounds of bull straight up 4 feet in the air, almost like a ballet move. He's getting the message, and now he's running for the road. This is working, kwhap, four feet, straight up, everytime. I gotta get me a job as a motivational therapist with the NBA, I can show them all how to get big air, and maybe get paid for it simultaneously. We run, I shoot, he jumps, like a dance routine. we ran a quarter mile down the road, right down the middle, past the incredulous neighbors that were looking out their windows. I'm not the only one who can verify that those bulls can jump straight up 4 feet. Bill runs off the road up into the woods, and I kept up pace for pace for about 25-30 shots with the BB gun, but finally he outran me because I was out of wind. Maybe I could have outrun him if I was being shot in the balls. Hey, I'm tired, but I feel great, exhilirated even.

Walking back by the neighbor's house the 80 year old gent waves to me to come over. He wants to know what that was all about. I told him that Bill the Bull had been charging me hundreds of times, and living nearby, he knew about that. I explained that I felt it was just a matter of time until Bill would get lucky, knock me down and trample me, or worse, get a kid or a visitor. I told him about the pipes, then the BB gun. He asked where Bill might be and I told him I gave up about a half mile away and up in the woods. He inquired what I would tell Walter, who owned Bill. Just tell him what happened, I said. The old geezer commented that you wouldn't think a 1400 bull could jump that high. I agreed that it surprised the hell out of me too. I did feel a little bad about sending Bill the Bull out into the wilderness, so to speak, but, what the hell, it was sorta him or me. I didn't figure to miss him. When I stepped outside the next morning, I'm thinking that this is great, no more Bill the Bull, but at the same time, I'm already missing the excitement, and who do you think is waiting an pawing the ground and he looked to me just like the cartoons of a bloodshot, red eyed, evil, smokin' train chargin. I gotta admit, he's a tough s.o.b. The next day Walter wants the cows and Bill the Bull back at his place. A week later, Walter is in the hospital with a broken leg and a broken arm compliments of Bill the Bull. Bill matriculated to hamburger. Can you imagine the kind of air Michael Jordan would be capable of with the proper guidance? They'd have to raise the hoops to 14 feet.