When I was born they thought I was just going to be another head for the slaughter... the farmers fed me, gave me a place to sleep and pretty much thought little else about me... Then one day Cletus (the son of Farmer Bob and his sister Bobbi) stumbled up to me with a milking pail, a stool and a whole lot of determination... If it wasn't for the missing teeth, he might actually be pretty cute. Anyhow, he didn't quite realize he was trying to get milk from a bull, but I didn't stop him. Fuck, they weren't using me as a Stud so up 'till then the biggiest thrill I had was when one of the forest squirrels mistook me for a tree. We never found that furry little bugger... Anyhow, Cletus worked and worked all morning, filling the pail by 11:15. He was so proud of his feat that he strutted straight back home and poured hisself a nice steamy glass of "milk." The taste was something he never experienced before. Sweet, but creamy. Just a hint of salt. He called over Bob and Bobbi and had them try it, and they agreed, that was the best damn milk they ever tasted. By noon they had finished off the entire pail, and asked him to go out and get some more. Which cow gave such sweet milk, they asked. "Why, Beauvine!" Cletus replied. Which gave Bob an idea... they were missing out on half the milk production they could be getting from the field! So with a few alterations to the milking machines, a couple of subscriptions to "Nasty Heiffer" magazene and a "gift" to the health inspector, the rest, as they say, is history. Slaughter me? Ha!

Milk Masta at the Man-churnian Ranch

Getting milked, chewing cud and destroying the Ozone layer. Now and then I kick the farmer, but that's only on mornings when his hands are cold. Mainly I just stand around, eat and fart. Occasionally I get "milked." It's a living.