WHEN NOT SEEING IS BELIEVING

Most of my life I’ve lived by the mantra that seeing is believing.  That’s always held true in science, chemistry, and physics class.  But now that I have my senior’s degree in life, I’ve been forced to re-think a few former ‘givens.’  I’ve had two astounding life-lessons pertaining to the grave fallacy of believing in what you see… or at least, believing in what you believe you see.

Carol and I have been back home in Mississippi for just over 5 months now.  We purchased the former home of our nephew and his family.  There’s usually a few adjustment to living in a new environment, as you learn it’s personality and quirks.

Lesson one: our master-bath shower.  I don’t like a soggy bath mat, and assume that others might not also.  So before stepping into the shower, a place my ‘dirty’ T-shirt on top of the math mat.  Did I mention that the glass door to this shower is clear glass?  No frosting, no lily pads, no mermaids, no frogs.  Just crystal-clear glass.  Half way through my shower I happened to look down at the T-shirt on the bath mat.  To my horror, it was FLOODED.  The shirt had standing water on it, and clearly visible was hundreds of splashes as more water continued to pounded it!  The bathroom was FLOODING!  Or so I thought.  It wasn’t what I saw.  It was what I thought I saw!  You see, a quick check revealed that the clear glass was revealing the T-shirt on the mat OUTSIDE the shower… and it was also revealing a REFLECTION of the shower spray hitting the floor on the INSIDE of the shower!  These two perfectly combined images made it APPEAR that both of them were one and the same!  What a relief!

Lesson two:  I’m only now ‘recovering’ from this latest lesson.  It happened just within the past hour!

Carol and her sister are on a week’s vacation in South Carolina there to holiday on the beach with family.  Mary Ellen’s son and two grandkids went along also.  Her daughter-in-law had to stay home to work.  I’m not a ‘beach person’ myself, so I eagerly agreed to stay behind and baby-sit the four-legged children.  We have two, Mary Ellen has two, and her son-in-law has one… and this one is staying at Mary Ellen’s.

It’s only a short hop over to M.E.’s place, and I make the trip 4 times a day, for feeding and outside time.

This morning I was making trip one to ME’s.  As soon as the garage door opens, you can here the active pups inside, anticipating what is coming.  I went inside, saw the three active pups eager to get into the backyard, walked across the hallway, across the den, and opened the patio door… and there were only TWO PUPS scrambling to get outside!  My nephew’s larger dog, Delta, was not there!  Somewhere between the back door opening into the garage and the patio door, Delta had simply disappeared!

Needless to say, I was only a degree or two from freaking out!  A thorough search of the house revealed not a trace of Delta.  I went outside and called.  No Delta.  Before making the dreaded call to South Carolina, I drove the entire neighborhood calling for the lost pup… but to no avail.  Finally I made the call… and was told that Delta often ‘hides’ when outside.  I looked.  No Delta.  Perhaps she would also hide INSIDE.  I search everywhere, including closets, and under furniture.  This is a 40+ pound animal, so hiding space is limited.

M.E. called her next door neighbor, who joined the search with me.  I know that the circumference of that neighborhood is one mile, and I made it many times.  And then South Carolina called! 

 I was told that a church friend of my nephew’s had picked up Delta, and that she was (safely) with this friend!  Whew, what a huge relief!  

I’m at a total loss as to what my part played in this whole fiasco. It could ONLY mean that Delta was NEVER at the door eager to go outside as she always is.  I EXPECTED her to be there, therefore, I THOUGHT that I saw her there!  I expected three, so I saw the two as THREE! 

But, as I explained to Carol, I would swear in a court of law that Delta WAS THERE when I arrived!  It was the same thing as that morning in the shower when the bathroom floor was flooding!     

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HUNT & PECKER

     I’m a strange bird in many ways, and I admit to that.  As a prime example, even as a fledgling writer, I’ve never learned to type!  Yes, I’m what’s called a ‘Hunt and Pecker.’

    Once I actually attempted to learn, or should I say, was encouraged to learn.  That was way back in the early days of computers, with their ever present keyboards.  Some folks believe that ‘typing’ is required.

    I began (full-time) work for Jitney-Jungle in the fall of 1967.  Those first few years typing was never a requirement, as I was producing silk screen and hand-painted signage for the company.  I’m sure that by today, somewhere, there’s a silk-screen apparatus that has a key-board… but back then… none was required.

    Because I’d formerly worked in the advertising department of the Clarion Ledger Newspaper, the heads of state at Jitney decided… why ‘farm-out’ print advertising when we have a warm body already on the payroll who can do that!  So, I moved across the street and into the main corporate office, hired a couple of co-employees, and we began producing the weekly print-ad artwork, camera-ready for the newspapers.  

    Our first ‘typesetting’ machine was among the first photo-typesetters on the market… and it didn’t even have a keyboard!  Although electric, it was in no-way electronic. Each and every type-font came on a large plastic disk about the size of an old LP record.  Oh, and each type-font SIZE had it’s own separate disk!  Early expense requirements meant that we could have only a limited number of type fonts and sizes.

     The way this machine worked was: in a darkroom, the 35 mm paper onto which the type would be ‘exposed’ was fed into a loadable cassette.  The type machine itself looked somewhat like a cross between a record player and a pinball machine.  To produce the words ‘Chuck Roast’ you placed the desired font/size disk onto the machine, inserted the cassette into the side, advanced the paper to the ‘expose film’ area, then turn the font-disk until the ‘C’ lined up correctly.  Then with your left hand you pressed a lever which locked the font-wheel into the correct position, and next with your right hand you pressed a corresponding lever on the right side which exposed this first letter onto the film.  ‘C’ was now done.  Then you moved the font wheel to the letter ‘h’ and repeated the left right, lock-print lever dance.  Next came ‘u’ followed by all the others.  Needless to say, it took quite a bit LONGER to print out ‘USDA Choice Boneless Chuck Roast’ than it does today!  You see, knowing ‘how to type’ was of absolutely no benefit in ‘typing’ with the Varityper!  It was basically ‘Hunt and Pecking by default!’  

     Also, there were physical limitations as to the type size we could use.  The minimum was 14 points (about 1/8 inch tall) and the largest was 72 points… around 3/4 inches tall.  So, for the larger PRICE NUMERALS we often had to use ‘clip art’ numerals, especially for the larger ‘featured’ items.  

    All of these various ‘labor intensive’ requirements required that these earlier four and eight page ad ‘tabloids’ displayed only a minimum number of items per page… something in the neighborhood of six to fourteen items.

     Because type-setting was such a long, labor-intensive process, there were many, many times, (in order to be home with the family) I’d take the Varityper home after 5 and set type sitting at our kitchen table!  Like I said, there was no NEED to learn how to type.  ANYONE can ‘hunt and peck’ 2 words a minute!

     But things changed when computers came along, and with them, computer-generated type-setting.  The next generation of computer assisted ad layout meant that type could be set directly in position and onto a page layout clearly and accurately presented right on your computer screen!  Now, typing was almost a requirement!  So… Jitney sent me to TYPING SCHOOL at the then new R & D Center!  

    I must not be ‘cut out’ for typing.  I was a miserable failure at it… much like I was at learning to play the piano during grammar school!  Oh I played (a bit) but my piano teacher, Miss Nellie Robinson, told Mom that I was not learning the notes… but playing by ear!  Typing was like that for me also.  So, folks at Jitney finally ‘gave up,’ by saying that I could type with two fingers far better than I’d ever be able to using all ten!  They were right.  I typed this using only two. 

    In my ‘can’t type defense,’ when I was hired on full-time at Jitney we had only 22 Jitney-Jungle stores.  Our little corporate in-house Advertising Department was instrumental in ‘growing’ that number, within a couple of short decades, into a mega-chain with the largest number of employees of any home-owned and home-operated company in the entire state.  Yup, I can’t help but be proud of what my two little fingers, ‘Woody left’ and ‘Wood’ right, helped to accomplish! 

Bill Murphy

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ONCE A GROCER, ALWAYS A GROCER

TOOLS OF THE TRADE

I suppose it’s simply ‘in my blood,’ this GROCER thing.  But I come by it honestly.  It’s actually something rather difficult to ignore, as I was practically born, bred, and raised in the grocery business.  It was almost the same for my Dad.

Dad’s first and only other job in his entire work-history was a short tour of duty working in the Dairy at Mississippi State College in the early 1930s.  And then he moved to the ‘big city’ of Jackson and found work as a stock-boy for the then new Jitney-Jungle.

I’ll skip forward to 1951.  I was in the 5th at George Elementary on the corner of Winter and Gallatin.  Dad had been the successful manager of Jitney #2 next to George, so when the new Jitney #19 was built and opened in Mart 51 at Terry Road and Highway 80, he was made manager of this new store.  Dad hired me to ‘help out’ after school Thursday and Friday afternoons and the weekends.   

I work there at Jitney #19 until I started my Freshman year at Mississippi Stare in the Fall of 1959.   You see, the grocery business is in my blood.

But I wasn’t finished with the grocery business!  In the Fall of 1967 I was called back into the grocery business when Jitney Jungle decided to form it’s own in-house ad agency and print shop.  This time as full-time… until the very senseless end of Jitney-Jungle in 2001.

I said all that to say this…  This very morning Carol sent me to Kroger for a few grocery items.  I found a spot to part right near the front of the store.  Great!  The store was crowded, even for a Friday morning. 

When I returned to my vehicle after shopping, I noticed that the nearby rack of returned grocery carts was completely overloaded with returned carts… most of which had be hurriedly and carelessly dropped off in willie-millie fashion!  Empty carts spilled over into the adjoining parking spaces!  My ‘grocer in the blood’ kicked in.  It simply overpowered me.  I couldn’t help myself.   It was like it was 1951 all over again and Bill had his grocery cart responsibility again!

Yes, I did!  After I’d packed my vehicle with my purchases,  I took my empty card over to this fine MESS… and quickly and efficiently did my work, in the true spirit of a good grocery company individual.  It didn’t take me long, perhaps 2 minutes at most, but it sure made me feel good about doing it!  I’m sure there must have been another customer within sight, scratching their head and wondering, ‘Why is HE doing that?’   

Why? Because it’s in my blood.  I can’t help it.  I’m retired now, and I miss doing ‘grocery stuff.’  Besides, those 5th grade years were among the happiest of my young life, and it was a barrel of fun this morning, an 80+ year old man, back again doing ‘fun’ 5th grade work!  It make me realize that I’ve still ‘got it!’

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TERROR ON THE TRACE

Natchez Trace Parkway

I can’t remember the exact year, but I know it was fairly soon after the opening of the Natchez Trace north of Jackson.  Prior to that time our family’s trips to Carthage to visit Dad’s family was always thru Canton, then over to Carthage.  The new Trace gave us a ‘short-cut.’

Let me give you a brief description of Mom and Dad.  They were childhood sweethearts, and totally devoted to one another.  As far as I’m concerned, they were both excellent parents, and I wouldn’t have changed a thing.  Mom could be a bit hard-headed, as demonstrated by the fact that years before I was born, and before she got her drivers license, she took the car to town after Dad told her not to.  During the ensuing ‘settlement’ over this disagreement, Mom declared that she’d NEVER drive again…. AND SHE DIDN’T!  

Dad held himself to high standards.  I never heard a ‘profane’ word cross his lips… ever!  He didn’t smoke, drink, tell or laugh at ‘dirty’ jokes… and… he never fished on Sunday… really!  Dad’s one spot on his record was that he had a heavy foot when driving.  Speeding tickets were not often, but mainly because most speed traps had been closed before Dad flew through.

The speed limit on the trace was 50 MPH, which to Dad, must have seemed like 15.  On this particular late Sunday afternoon, we were flying low toward home from Carthage on the fairly new Trace.  

Mom and Dad had a habit of referring to one another in loving terms like ‘Honey’ and ‘Sugar.’  But around friends or company, Mom used Dad’s name, Hendrix.  This day, Mom had long since ceased saying, “Honey, please slow down,” or “You know the speed limit’s only 55.”  Now, it was more… “Hendrix, WHEN they stop you, it’s gonna be a BIG ticket!”

I guess this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  In a very calm voice, Dad replied, “Eloise, if you say one more thing… I’m going to stop this car and put you out.”

The gauntlet had been tossed.  The irritable force was about the meet the immovable object.  The fan had been plugged in.

Mom was silent for a long while… perhaps considering her options?  But Mom was never famous for keeping her silence.  

Even as she was beginning to speak the words about slowing… Dad’s foot was off the accelerator and onto the brakes.  We slowed to, then below, 55 and continued to slow… until Dad pulled onto the shoulder and stopped.

By now, in the back seat, my sister Mary Lilly and I had reached the point where, like the Star Trek theme says, we were where we’d never gone before!  Our parents, although practicing utter calmness, appeared to be in the actual process of splitting apart!  Could this really be happing?  Was it only some big joke?  We didn’t think so.  And then, Dad said the unspeakable word… OUT!

Mom opened the door and got out.  

What happened next was something truly unbelievable to my young heart.  Dad actually drove away, leaving Mom beside the road!  Mary Lilly was wailing in utter grief, shock, and terror.  I don’t think I was even capable of thinking at the time… I was in shock.

Dad pulled onto the roadway and accelerated.  Ahead the road curved, and when we rounded that curve, Mom had disappeared behind the trees.  

And then Dad slowed. He slowed real slow and made a U-turn, and headed back and picked up Mom.

She didn’t say anything when she got back inside, and especially not anything about Dad’s driving.  But she didn’t need to… he drove much more slowly the remainder of the way to our happy home on Evergreen.

Something tells me that they had, shall we say, a sweet reunion that night.  Like I said before, Mom and Dad were in love, and totally devoted to one another!  They were inseparable… except for once when he put her out of the car on the Natchez Trace!  

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A TRIBUTE TO AN OLD HERO

1950s Magazine Art

   I’ve been blessed by having numerous (male) heroes in my lifetime, beginning with Hero Number One… JESUS!  Then of course there was my father, Hendrix Murphy, and his father, Matthew Murphy, and mom’s father, Patrick Murphy.  Over the years I learned to admire and respect (in no particular order) Winston Churchill, John Wayne, Red Skelton, and numerous ‘aviation greats’ such as Chuck Yeager, Jimmy Doolittle, Douglas Corrigan, and Bob Hoover.  

   My passion for model airplanes introduced me to another… a super talented aviation artist who created the covers for Model Airplane News Magazine, and other publications, for many years.  His name is Jo Kotula, (1910-1998).

   Jo was Polish.  He and his family immigrated to the U.S. in 1910, when Joe was but 6 months old.  By the early 1930s his work was appearing in national publications like Saturday Evening Post, Colliers, Newsweek, Air Trails and Popular Science.  He began painting covers for Model Airplane News in 1932, continuing for 38 years, creating more than 400 dramatic paintings.  He also illustrated for Air Force training manuals during and after World War II.  He was among the first aviation artists who mastered the difficult technique of portraying reflective bare metal in bright sunlight.  One of this personal features was not to depict the sky as simply bright blue filled with puffy white clouds!  Yellow, as seen in the illustration, appeared to be his sky-color of choice, appearing often in his work.  

   I found this copy of his 1950 work for Air Trails on-line and downloaded it.  Next, I imported the file into Paintbrush and painted out the wording.  The original magazine must have been old, as there were a couple of tears and folds, in addition to a mark or two… all of which I did my best to repair.   I now have a framed copy of this ‘restored’ tribute to Jo Kotula hanging on my office wall.  If only I had an original of his work! 

TRUTH

    I believe that God’s greatest disappointment in the Christian Church is our lack of solid unity.  Know one knows who originated the phrase, ‘Divide and conquer,’ but they were spot on!

 Oh what we could have accomplished for The Kingdom had it not been for a divided church!

    How did this division come about?  Basically, it all boils down to personal opinion!  At some point in time, there was a scribe, a monk, a vicar, a priest or what ever, who read a text and decided for himself that: this is what God’s Word says… but this is what God actually means.   We may called that event ‘interpretation,’ but the truth of the matter is: interpretation really means ‘This is what I assume and therefore believe that this text is actually saying.’  And so the spiral toward division began! 

    Fast forward two thousand years.  Now what are we to do?   God gives us the answer to this dilemma in 2 Timothy 2:15 

Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.  

    I see several interesting word usages in this passage.  Study tells me that I’m not simply to read scripture, but to ponder over it, to delve deeply into it to and to discern exactly what it is telling us.  Approved tells me that I am gaining the approval of God by making a diligent effort to understand exactly what He is telling me through His written Word.  Ashamed speaks to me of failure, and recognition of that unacceptable, wrongful, and even hurtful act of failure.  Finally, dividing speaks to me of separation, removing error and casting it aside, and understanding and embracing only truth! 

    We are blessed to be thought of as the ‘Children of God.’  But in truth, although we may be adult in age, we are still children in spirit.  And as ‘childish’ children, we continue childish and immature thinking long into adulthood.  As children, we are easily led astray.  Our very carnal world of today is filled with ‘Pied Pipers’ at every turn, attempting to lead us not to — but away from God.  And these modern Pipers use every trick in the book.   And the oldest trick of all is making the ‘bad’ to appear as ‘good’ and leading us away from God’s will while causing us to believe we are heading into His will.

    This is why more than ever we must all study to show ourselves approved unto God, rightly dividing the word of truth, workmen that need not to be ashamed!  

    The second chapter of 2nd Timothy goes on to say in verse 23:   

But foolish and unlearned questions avoid, knowing that they do gender strifes.  

    The question is, ‘What is a foolish question?  And, who determines if it is or is it not, foolish?  The verse above certainly implies that we should know the difference!

    God always reveals the truth!  We often think that he’s slow in doing it, yet He always works within His own time frame-work… and that always proves to be right, best, and the best for us all.  Our knowledge of truth is usually a process!  Our responsibility is to ‘allow’ God to work His way and His will with patience.  We have a strong ally to make our ‘burden’ of patience lighter, and that is prayer.

We must remember:  It is God who does the ‘real’ work, we are but His ‘helpers.’  His truth SHALL reign!

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Not Loving My Neighbor

Bill Murphy  2021

“You have heard that it was said, Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.  But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father in heaven.  For He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.   Matthew 5:43-48 

I’ve been a church goer since birth, and a Christian since I was knee high to a grasshopper… but there was a time in my life when I chose to turn a blind eye toward this all to familiar verse.

It began in 5th grade at George Elementary on Winter I do believe.  There was a boy in my class named J. D. Hudson, and he and I seemed to be in a constant clash.  I’m ashamed to admit it, but if I’ve ever ‘hated’ anyone in my life, it was J. D.  I you are reading this now, J. D., I pray that you will forgive me.  I’m long over my dis-like of you, I promise.  But I do confess, that I harbored that grudge for far too long!  And perhaps, that was my gravest sin!

J. D. had become such a bitter taste to me, that this emotional dislike actually became a part of my life… and this was a very shameful and troubling part of me!  I tried for years to simple ignore it, but without success.  Why could I not simply let it go?  It wasn’t as if the boy had killed my little sister, or maimed my mother or father… nor did he even kick my dog!  It was just oil verses water gone too far on my part!

Many years ago, some how, God in His mercy helped me to clean those nasty cobwebs out of my soul.  It felt so good to have that cancer melt away!  It was a blemish on my psyche that I’d created on my own, and somehow allowed to exist for too many years… a scar that, praise God, is no long there!  Oh how I hope that J. D. Reads this.  I hope that he’s doing well now, and has prospered all these years, and that he’s somehow forgiven me for my stupid grudge against him.  J. D., I am truly sorry!  I am. 

THE GREATEST SIN

I’ve always considered the greatest sin to be the sin of blasphemy.  But I’m beginning to believe that perhaps the greater sin is our feeble attempts to ‘humanize’ God.  Isn’t it true that we often think along the lines of now if this was me, (as if to say, ‘If I was God’)… I would or wouldn’t do this or that.  It can sometimes be a real slap in the face when we realize that we’re totally incapable of ‘second guessing’ Him!     

Our earthly lives are much like courtroom drama.  We have only just so much evidence at hand on which to form our opinions and understandings, and, we are  constrained by definite time restraints.  God has no restrictions.   And, He has limitless knowledge, both forward and backward in time.  God assuredly has the advantage over us!

The past few weeks the Murphy household has been much like both the courtroom and the boxing ring.  We’re in the process of selling our house in Illinois and moving back home to Mississippi.  Carol and I have turned it over to God, asking Him to lead, guide, and direct.  We truly want His will in all that is done!   Heaven knows the countless mistakes we’ve made in the past in trying to do it ‘our way.’  Our batting average isn’t the best in the world!

But in the current effort God is taking us on the roller-coaster ride of our lives!  One day is sunny and bright with what we see as progress, and the next day storm clouds surround us!  These ups and downs can be trying.  But, it doesn’t have to be that way!  Jesus told us that His yoke is easy and His burden is light. 

Our ‘roller-coaster ride has been our viewpoint.  But God keeps showing us that what we see as down can actually be an up.  What we see as 2 – 2 = 0, He keeps showing us can actually be 4… when He’s doing the math!  Only He can change a minus to a plus and do so in the blink of an eye… our eyes! 

There’s an old church song that says, ‘He is good all the time.  All the time, He in good!’  We’re seeing this proven right before our eyes and on a daily basis.

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CONSIDERING TIME

I’ve considered time since I was a small child.  One of my first time-related memories is of an incident which happened when I was no more than five or six.  I’d been playing next door, in my grandparents yard.  With my bare hands, I pulled a prickly weed from the ground.  It must have been a thistle, but I didn’t think it was.  Whatever this demon-plant was, my small hand was now filled with painful and tiny, itchy barbs.  It hurt.  My first inclination was to cry.

This memory is as clear and life-altering as if it were only yesterday.  I looked down at my hand, and I remember thinking:  A few moments ago, all was well.  In a day, maybe two, all will be well once again.  Only now, in the moment as I stood there looking at my hand, it is painful.  And my young mind reasoned that… just as the philosopher said, “This too will pass.”  This was a giant stepping stone for me and for my future, setting the path for my outlook on life.  

Perhaps that’s why I hold so dear the wonderful memories from my past.  I’ve learned to hold close and remember and celebrate the little joys and victories of yesteryear.  I’m determined to honor those good memories with happiness and thankfulness.  And I’ve chosen to keep those distasteful and painful remembrances at arm’s length.

I most definitely consider this time related blessing a ‘God-thing!’  

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Why Did You Shoot The Cow?

A Short Fiction by Bill Murphy 2021

As I’ve often said, I dream every night.  All of my dreams contain many people and places that I know… some from the past, others from the present.  But… fact and fiction (dream) are confusingly mingled.  Last’s night’s dream made a unique story, so I share it with you.

I found myself in a beautiful woodsy park, a state park?  Off behind me was a large rustic lodge.  It was obvious that whatever meeting or gathering was held there was over, as people were leaving.  I was there to pick up my Youngers daughter Molly, and two of her friends.  I saw them awaiting me up ahead, at the edge of large parking lot.  I pulled into a parking spot.

The girls all looked to be in their late teens.  I didn’t recognize Molly’s two friends.  The three girls were dressed exactly alike, in long red ‘costume like’ dresses, of the type that classical dancers wear.  They get into my smallish blue vehicle. 

It had been raining, and the ground was soft, wet and mushy.  I backed up while turning to the right, then pulled forward… and right into a deep mud-bog!  We were stuck.  Nothing I could do would free the vehicle.  I looked around, seeking help.  But the lot was completely empty!  From the back seat, one of the girls said that’d she’d call 911.  Fine by me!

Soon a policeman drove up.  He walked over to our vehicle and told us that he’ll have us out in a jiffy.  “I do this all the time,” he replied.  “Move over, I’ll take it from here.” 

I moved over to the passenger side, and the office got in.  He cranked the vehicle and moved forward no more that six inches, then reversed and backed up and equal amount.  He did this three or four times, inching farther and farther each time.  On the last time forward, we were free!  “See, I told you I’d have you out in a jiffy,” replied the officer.

No sooner than the words had left his mouth, when suddenly a large cow reared up on the side of the car, on my side.  Its rear feet were on the ground, and the front feet and legs stretched across the top.  Seeing what had just happened, the officer suddenly drew his weapon, and aiming across the front seat (and across me)!  He fired… striking the cow!  It let out one mournful howl and sank to the ground.

“W-w-why did you shoot the cow?” I asked.

“Well, it was blocking your exit,” he replied.  “Now you’re free to go!”

With that, he got out of our car and returned to his vehicle and drove away.

About that time, out of seemingly nowhere, a TV news crew of two showed up.  “We got it all on tape!” The news lady said.  “What made him shoot the cow?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” I replied. 

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