"When they shift they're roughly the size of a Hummer," Dwayne said with a smirk.
"You really enjoyed saying that," I said as my eyes narrowed at him.
"Yes. Yes, I did."
"Anything else?" I asked and then instantly regretted it.
"Stay the hell away from their asses," Granny instructed.
"I don't want to ask why—but why?" I could tell Granny was going to explain whether I wanted to know or not. I was simply expediting.
Hank just pinched the bridge of his nose and stared off into the darkening sky. I was unsure if he already knew all of this information or if he was simply too smart to have opened a can of worms—or ass.
"Because they blow wind that can singe the hair right off your head. The Were Cows’ gastric explosions are directly responsible for the Greenhouse Effect," Granny said.
"Bull crap," I said as I rolled my eyes.
"That too," she added.
"Wait—what?" Following her train of thought was headache inducing.
"Were Cow patties are destroying our ozone too." She shook her head with disgust. "Their rectal issues are gonna be the end of the world. I really think they should have their rear ends permanently plugged up."
"They'd simply start producing killer stanky burps," Dwayne told Granny.
"Sweet Jesus in a mini skirt, you're right."
"Oookay guys, I think that's probably enough," I stammered.
Note to self: stop asking questions of Granny and Dwayne. Or at least make sure my stomach is empty if questions are necessary.
"Remember how they said Mrs. O'Leary's cow started the Chicago Fire?" Dwayne asked.
"That was totally disproven," I argued.
"More like covered up," Dwayne sniffed. "A Were Cow ate twenty-six pounds of baked beans and tooted next to the lantern that started it all. Damn thing blew up like a bomb."
"Enough," Hank said in frustration as he ran his hands through his hair and gave Dwayne and Granny a look that would have scared the hell out of most people. Granny and Dwayne were not most people. "Most importantly, if they shift don't let them gore you. The tips of their tusks are poisonous. Also, their hooves are razor sharp so… "
"I really think the ass part is more important," Granny interrupted Hank. "Of course, Dwayne would be fine because he's bald."
"And don't step in their poo poo—it will eat your foot right off your body," Dwayne added.
"I'm actually really sorry I asked." My gag reflex was so close to the surface I had to pace it off.
"Okay," Hank said as the color began to come back into his face. "We ready now?"
"I was born ready," Granny crowed.
"Of course you were," I mumbled as I swallowed carefully to make sure nothing was going to come back up.
"I would just like to say that I love all of you and if you die tonight, please accept my sincerest apologies." Dwayne hugged each of us and then dropped to the ground and did eleven one-handed pushups.
"Does that help?" I asked as I watched him.
“Not at all," he replied.
"Move it," Hank said in exasperation.
I grinned and slapped his butt. Even annoyed he was hotter than asphalt in August.
The dirt road was rutted and uneven. Rusted-out junk cars and garbage littered the fields on either side. Up ahead I spotted several rundown trailers. The entire place made me sad. What could have been beautiful property in its stark simplicity was an unkempt pathetic disaster.
"This confuses me some," Granny said quietly as she took in the abject poverty. "How does a powerful species come to this?"
"Don't know," Hank said tersely. "Maybe it's a cover to keep people away."
"Possibly," I whispered, "but I don't detect power here. I smell desperation."
"I feel sick," Dwayne said. "If I'm the cause of this… "
"How could you be the cause of this?" I asked.
"I don't know." He wrung his hands and then wrapped them around himself. "I don't know, but I have a bad feeling."
I did too, but not one of fear for my life—one of fear for the state that the Cows had gotten themselves into.
"Desperate people do desperate things," Hank reminded us. "Stay alert and let's find out what's really happening here. Do not kill unless provoked."
"You think they're in the trailers?" Dwayne inquired as he pointed down the road.
"Or possibly out grazing and farting in the fields?" Granny suggested.
"Um… nope," I said as I put up a hand to halt our movement. My other hand went to my pocket and attached itself to my gun. "Cows. Twenty feet away on our left."
"What the hell?" Dwayne gasped and levitated slightly.
"Down, boy," Hank ground out as he yanked Dwayne out of the air. "They don't seem aggressive—mostly confused."
"Um, I'm kind of confused." I tilted my head to see if that would clarify what I was staring at.
There were eight sexually ambiguous people watching us closely. Their hair was cropped short and they wore dirty baggy jeans and oversized work shirts. Were they men or women? I had no freakin' clue. I was scared to ask. Being Southern, I had manners, but this was a conundrum… and it was bugging the crap out of me.