Number Twelve!
Number Twelve!
By Damian Coburn
Chelsea Public School, Grade 10
Deep inside I sort of see a cute little bunny or some other creature that is soft and fluffy and cute and . . .
Snap back to reality. This beast, as I have learned to call it, just head bunted me into the wall for the seventh time in the past half hour and all I can see is not a little fluffy bunny, but fresh hamburger packed and labeled and on the label says, "What was once Number Twelve. Enjoy!" Well, that would be my favorite dream come true at the farm.
Number Twelve did not always act as if she was possessed by some dark force that I could not conquer without the use of kitchen utensils and a meat grinder. She was just an over-excited heifer that always wanted attention. Her need for attention turned into a hunger for me. Number Twelve is now a milking cow with eight hundred and seventy pounds of brute muscle and ferociousness. Not only does Number Twelve have muscle, weight, and the intent to kill on her side, she has an ugly disease as I call it. It is not really a disease but ringworm. Well, whatever you call it or her, she still scares me!

