The
Intrepid Milker
John
LaBorde
Way back
when, my first summer job was working on a farm that had some milk cows. Here I was, the little city boy off to the
farm to learn farming and milking. Don’t
know if I ever learned how to do either.
That Fall,
I went out to the farm to visit my cousin for school break. I was boasting how much I had learned and how
great of milker I was. I was so full of
it and so proud I could have been mistaken for a peacock. Like a banty I went crowing about how great I
had become.
Next
morning, helping my cousin and uncle with chores. I kept the tall tale going, how good I had
become. The cows are ushered into the
barn and we get ready to milk. Uncle
walks up to me, hands me a pail and stool.
Points at a cow. With a bit of
chagrin, I walk over to the cow. Set the
pail down, sit down on the stool and proceed to start milking.
It was
going pretty good, the pail was starting to fill up and my head was
bursting. When all of a sudden,
KERWHACK. I went flying across the
floor, the side of my face was gooey and sticky and oh boy did it hurt. I was looking at stars, pinwheels and other
assorted things flying around inside me.
I open my eyes a bit and there is Bossie looking at me, as if to say,
the milk is back there, not up here.
I roll over
as the shooting stars subside and look at the rafters. My eyes pop open wide for the rafters are
dancing and shaking. Some more stars
disappear and my ears open up. I hear
it, the loudest roar of guffaws I had ever heard. I look back that a way, there stand my uncle
and cousin just roaring as loud as I had ever heard. Now I knew why the rafters were
vibrating.
Sheepishly
I get up, wipe my head off. Bossie’s
tail had caught me square on the temple.
All the frozen manure and urine was like getting swatted with a
boulder.
I stumbled
out and sat down for a bit while my uncle finished the milking. I went to the Quonset and I got cleaned up,
clean clothes and went in the house. Setting
down to breakfast, there was a piece of humble pie next to my plate.
