Taste Great! Less Filling!

The grass is greener... greener... green...gr.

I believe that sometimes this is true. Think about it. Your fenced it. There's grass over there with no one else gnawing on it. It's just sitting there soaking up the sun, glistening with the morning's cold dew. Just beckoning you, "Hey, I'm greener. No other cows over there to poop on me! You want to eat me!"

So, you practice your cow-quando and hurdle the fence. Then the ranch hand comes after you with that darned horse who calls himself, "The King", and that rope of his. He chases you down the fence line until you realize that if you turn off to the right, away from that horrid fence, then you just might be able to shake him. It's worth a try. Besides that there's a nasty looking corner of the barbed wire headed right for your beautiful snout. So you do it.

A hard right turn and you duck under the snarl of the thorny brush and into the creek bed. You pause just for a second to glance to your left and right. Which way? Just then the rope of the cowboy glances off your right horn. Good thing he's not a good shot, huh?

So you decide to go straight. It might be difficult for his majesty to haul that fat butt poke up the other side, but you can slip through, you and your slim figure. So as you crest the other side of the creek you can hear the painful screams of the lost rider and the horse appears alone. You stare him down thinking, you can take him. This equestrian wuss. He's not even that much bigger than you. You duck your head and begin to fling the earth into a fine mist about you as you prepare to challenge the other other red meat.

Just then the stupid human emerges yelling all sorts of profanity as he is trying ever so hard to gather himself and his rope. He sees you and you see him. Change of plan. If it were just the horse, no problem. But this dope is just too much trouble. So you pivot ever so gracefully to your right and head the other direction.

Since you are somewhat wider than the given trail it becomes more and more painful as the native nasty thorns try their best to tear at your hips. Ahh, those wide hips. You wish you had joined the cow-yoga class earlier this spring now. You duck and scramble, but you can hear the thud, thud, thud of the mounted one behind you. You wind and work your way through the brush, crossing creek after creek until you see a break in the wood. Your thinking this is it! This must be somewhere I can really cut loose and get away from this guy!

As you clear the shrubs you are presented with a different obstacle: another barbed wire fence. You don't even have time to think about it. Your training takes over and you vault your girth upward and over the fence, just clearing it. But your follower was not as lucky. That's what he should go by, not "The King", but "Lucky". The horse managed to stop, but when he did the rider didn't. He comes flailing at you like a shot duck. Just as he is about to hit you, you move and he lands right in a pile of...

Wait a minute. This place looks all to familiar. "Oh crud! I'm back in my pasture! Well, I guess it wasn't worth it after all!" So, you just mosey over to your friends who are now staring at you in utter disbelief as you waltz up and begin to eat the ever so sweet green-gray grass...on your side of the fence.