Mr Landen Has No Brain. Stephen Walker
What was it with her? She couldn’t tie cows to her own front door?
As though to counterbalance the mobile home, a caravan stood at the offices’ other flank. The sign hanging from its doorknob read, THE WYNDHAM FINISHING SCHOOL FOR DAINTY YOUNG LADIES but Sally wasn’t interested in that. She’d seen its occupants.
Teena ignored the rain, tied off with a knot that only seamen should know, took three steps back and stood beside Sally. She smelled of strawberries. Not real strawberries but the strawberry-centre chocolate you always eat first from the box because it’s your favourite. Anyone else wet smells like the Coffee Cream that sits ignored for weeks because you don’t know anyone who likes them then has to be thrown away before it goes mouldy.
Polka dot rags plastered to her cheeks, Teena admired her own handiwork. ‘Sally, meet my latest project.’
‘It’s flying.’
‘Floating.’
‘Big difference.’
‘The moment I came across her I knew she’d be perfect for Experiment X.’
‘Experiment X?’ If this involved boyfriends.
‘My venture into anti-gravity. You see, I’ve done what no one else has. I’ve proven not only that anti-gravity exists but that it’s a force to equal gravity. I will of course be winning a Nobel Prize.’
‘But you’ll be leaving her out here all night?’
‘You’d rather I brought her inside?’
‘No but…’
‘Cows are hardy creatures well used to life outdoors.’
‘But the rain?’
‘Won’t bother her in the slightest.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive.’
‘How are you sure?’
‘Because she’s indestructible.’
Teena still stood beside Sally in the rain, her strawberry smell starting to make Sally hungry. Sally watched her. She looked so soft and smooth and creamy that Sally wanted to bite a chunk out of her. She’d taste like cake and have no bones just icing, no muscle just sponge cake, no blood just strawberry jam. In all her body there’d be not one human biological substance, just items fresh from the dessert tray. The walking gateau said, ‘On my walk, I encountered a small shop on the edge of town.’
‘A cake shop?’ Sally’s stomach rumbled.
Teena slapped her.
Sally stepped back, shocked, clutching her stinging cheek. “What the hell was that for?’
‘You were thinking of eating me.’
‘No I wasn’t. I don’t eat people. You city types, you’re all the same, always looking down on us, always saying we’re cannibals.’
Teena said, ‘Frankly you’ve lost me. I merely recognized the look on your face. Being beautiful, I’ve seen it so often.’
‘Oh.’ Sally watched the ground, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.
‘I’m sorry about hitting you but it was the best way to snap you out of it.’ She grabbed Sally’s arm and yanked her back to a position beside her, presumably Teena’s idea of reconciliation. ‘Now; the general store; while there I bought the ingredients needed for the anti-gravity cream.’
Sally still held her throbbing cheek. ‘From a general store?’
‘Anti-gravity cream can easily be made with household materials. After I’d finished, I had some materials left over, so I concocted a quantity of Indestructible Cream and applied it liberally. Clytemnestra’s fully atom bomb proof – the first of many such cows.’
‘Teena?’
‘Uh huh?’
‘Why would you want to make cows atom bomb proof?’
‘So they don’t hurt themselves when they fall from the sky.’
‘Cows don’t fall from the sky.’
‘They will when the anti-gravity cream wears off.’
‘But you’ve only coated one in anti-gravity cream.’
‘Well…’ Her voice tailed away. She gazed skyward.
Sally watched her. ‘Teena?’
‘Uh huh?
‘How many cows have you coated?’
She shrugged. ‘A few hundred.’
‘A few hundred!?!’
‘Maybe a few thousand. Frankly, after the first eight hundred, cows all start to resemble each other. I may have coated some twice.’
‘And that’s what you’ve been doing all day?’
‘What else would one do on one’s holiday?’
‘Most people go down the beach.’
Teena looked at her like she was talking to a simpleton. ‘Sally, there are no cows on the beach.’ Striding forward, she gave the cow a firm slap on the flanks. The impact sent water flying from it.
It mooed, startled.
Teena opened the front door of the office and prepared to go inside. ‘Coming?’
Sally watched the sodden cow, its ears at half mast. ‘I don’t care how indestructible she is, I’ll still worry about her.’
‘That’s because you’re a non-scientist. You view cows as people. They’re not. A cow’s a cow, and she won’t appreciate being treated otherwise. Now come on indoors and you can show me your fridge.’
Sally stepped forward, feet splashing in puddles. Water leaked into her trainers, soaking her toes. She ignored it. When she reached the cow, she stopped. With some difficulty she pulled the cow’s mouth open and placed the umbrella handle in it. Robbed of the umbrella’s cover, she was instantly soaked, her clothes clinging to her like cold octopus tentacles, rain pummelling her like the skies were out to dump the world’s oceans on her. With yet more difficulty she clamped the cow’s jaws shut around the handle.
Teena said, ‘Sally, what’re you doing?’
‘The umbrella’ll keep her head dry.’
‘Are you trying to make me look silly?’
‘What? As opposed to smearing cows with anti-gravity cream and tying them to doorknobs?’
‘That’s different.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s science.’
‘Now then, Daisy–’
‘Daisy?’ Teena protested. ‘Her name’s Clytemnestra.’
Sally still held the jaws shut. ‘Just keep hold of this umbrella all night, and you’ll be fine.’
‘She’s my cow, you know.’ Teena still held the door open.
‘We don’t listen to the nasty woman, do we, Daisy? She slaps people and accuses them of wanting to eat her.’ And she released Daisy’s jaw.
The umbrella hit the mud at Sally’s feet.
‘Sally, it won’t work. Cows don’t understand umbrellas.’
Sally picked it up, wiped its handle clean on her soaked sweater, forced Daisy’s jaws apart then placed the umbrella handle between them. She pressed the jaws shut. She released the jaws. Daisy dropped the umbrella.
Teena tutted.
Sally picked it up, wiped its handle clean