The Quest for Cowmelot

By Blake R. Wolfe

I was just a normal cow until a fae curse changed the course of my life...

 

After incurring the wrath of the fairy HOA, my life was changed forever. On my first outing to a nearby town with my owner, I found myself tied up to a strange metal stick. Without a thought, I wrapped my big ole cow tongue around it and tried to get myself loose. Instead of finding freedom, I ended up pulling a legendary sword from a stone. The moment it touched my cow lips, I could speak and think like a hooman.

 

Now everyone has abandoned me, telling me I've been infected by something called 'Destiny'. Not only that, the evil owner of Hamazon, Geoff Geezos, is hot on my tail, trying to get me to join his board of directors. But the moment I tell him no he swears and oath to take me down. With the help of my friends (a non-magic wizard, a not-a-centaur, and a barbarian bunny girl) I have to trek across the world in search of Cowmelot to take my place as the one and true king before evil can take my place.

 

I hate all of this.

 

WARNING: You are about to embark on a ridiculous journey full of swears, innuendo, blatant almost copyright infringement, and nonsensical cow musings. This book is one of the most ridiculous things ever written and you'll probably laugh too hard to actually read. So good luck and may the odds be kinda in your favor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blake R. Wolfe
• Release date: Aug 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223798330

Blake R. Wolfe

Blake spends most nights with his laptop pulled close, clacking away on the keyboard to get the next great idea written down. Surrounded by piles of notebooks, journals, and a cat of course, he does his best to keep his brain on the task at hand. Blake has published across multiple genres, but prefers the fantasy realm to all others. He is a beach bum during the summer, a wannabe yogi, and an avid Muppets fan. Seriously. You can sign up for new releases, giveaways, and freebies on his website.

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The Quest for Cowmelot

Blake R. Wolfe

Copyright © 2023 Blake R. Wolfe

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: LimboArt

Interior Illustration: Steven J. Selby Art

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

Printed in the United States of America

Chibi cow holding a sword

One

Iam a happy cow.

Or at least I was until I became a king.

Let me explain.

Once upon a time, as these stories go, there was a young farm boy. That farm boy, being prone to whimsy and wonder, spent many of his days dreaming about daring sword fights, magic spells, and fire breathing dragons. He knew he was a chosen one, just like all the other farm boys in the village, and one day Destiny would call for him to complete his noble and heroic quest.

But that day never came. At least not until he was much older.

A rumor skittered into the small village mill one day, brought by a traveling merchant from the south. It was strange and inconceivable to most, but held great intrigue. It seemed a magical sword had been discovered in the middle of a town far, far away. Immediately, a grand ancient wizard in a large hat was summoned and with his breadth of arcane knowledge he identified it as the supremely hard-to-find mystical sword of kings! He told all that would listen that whoever should pull the blade from the stone would be the one and true king of all the world. He and he alone would lead them into everlasting peace and prosperity. And of course, everyone believed him because who would doubt a man wearing such an elegantly shaped hat?

Naturally word spread quickly and hordes of men flocked to the site from all over the world to try to pull the sword from the stone. At first only the great kings were allowed to try to pull the blade. Having already obtained kinghood, they assumed they deserved it for all their hard work and bootstrap pulling to obtain their royal position. When they failed the knights came in, thinking their brave deeds and gallant slaying of beasts would win them favor, but it was not so. At last the nobles took their shot, each knowing that above all the others, they deserved the sword more because it was their right to bear arms and nobody would tell them otherwise. None were successful and the great wizard reminded them again and again, that only he of purest heart and unwavering honor could remove it. Eventually all the gentry gave up on the sword, calling it fake and rigged, just like the most recent election. Many began to spread rumors that they had actually pulled the sword from the stone, but the neighboring country of Jhina had covered up his huge and undeniable success.

The farm boy, now a young man, quite naturally knew it was his Destiny to draw the sword to become the one and true king. After an entire lifetime of daydreaming and preparing, he made the brave decision to leave his life behind and go after it. At first he thought to wait a while to see if his parents would be killed by some evil sorcerer, but since none obliged, he figured he would have to leave anyhow. Gathering his things and bidding his parents farewell forever, he set off on the long journey across the wilder parts of the world. He knew the sword lay far to the southeast in the small town of Piami, just north of the neverending swamps. Confident Destiny would lead his way, he tossed the map his mother had given him in the closest river he could find and followed his heart.

Traveling for what seemed like forever, the young man made his way across the world, which was in fact a rather smallish island no bigger than the mythical land of beavers known as Oregon. That however, didn’t stop the boy. Day and night he trudged through fae infested forest buffets, nude nymph soaked rivers, and passed by lakes full of dead women handing out free swords. They claimed the sword was obligation free, but it came with a pamphlet about their totally-not-a-pyramid-scheme food container business called Dupperware. One such watery tart claimed that it could make you many gold coins in your first year with little or no effort on your part. But the farm boy resisted all their temptations with pride and continued on, mind bent on his Destiny that would finally make him the hero he’d always dreamed of being.

When he finally arrived in the small village of Piami, he was exhausted, bruised, and nearly starved to death. It was a dark and stormy day, the rain pouring down on the nearby roofs. To his surprise, he received many odd stares from the locals. Little did he know that he’d been wandering for more than three years and at the nearest puddle of water was shocked to see how haggard and skeletal he looked. But again, with little regard for anything else, Destiny drove him forward. Before he had a chance to bathe or eat, he strode through the rainy village, looking for the sword buried in rock and his honor alongside it.

Coming around the corner of a small building he saw it at last. The clouds parted and a beam of sunlight shone down from the heavens, illuminating the sword, the ruby hilt shining brilliantly. A joyous singing filled the air as he stepped forward, not noticing the cart full of musically-inclined monks driving by, practicing for their concert with the pope. He felt his posture straighten, the muscles in his body flooding back to life after months of too little to eat. All at once he was the young farm boy again, staring at his grand Destiny that only lay a few feet in front of him.

He approached the massive black stone. It was broken at the edges and glimmered in the rain like glass, sunlight filling its dark interior. Reaching down he touched it with his bare hand and winced as pain shot through his palm. Pulling it back he saw the shallow cut and realized the stone was made almost entirely of obsidian, its edges jagged and razor sharp. Ignoring the pain he lifted his gaze to the sword. The hilt was a shining and ornately carved silver. On the pommel was a large ruby set into the metal, worth more money than his family's entire farm and beyond. He glanced around, looking for the ancient and renowned wizard, but saw no one. In fact, nobody was paying him any mind as he climbed up and approached the sword.

Wiping the blood away on his dirt-caked clothing, he reached down and wrapped his hands around the hilt of the sword, feeling the cold metal beneath them. The thick shaft felt good and natural in his hand. He glanced around once more, wishing the wizard was nearby so he could at least have a witness, but knew once he jerked the sword fast and hard, the wizard would come for him. Everyone in the world would know his name, the name of their one and true king. He was the chosen one and it was time he took his rightful place. Expecting the sword to come loose freely, he gave it a gentle tug.

But it did not move.

With a bit more effort, he tried once more. Again nothing. Growing frustrated and a little bit concerned, he doubled his efforts and strained against the blade, his muscles bulging as he tried to unleash it from its stoney prison. But no matter how hard he pulled, it didn’t move.

All at once dark thoughts began to penetrate his mind. Was he not brave and pure of heart? Did he not prove his unyielding honor in his quest across the world to find the sword? Was he foolish for not taking the wet lady’s pamphlet?

Feeling utterly defeated, his rain and blood soaked hands slipped from the sword, the cold drizzle washing away any trace that he’d even touched it. With a broken spirit he slunk away, finding a dark and muddy alley to die in. He didn’t eat and he didn’t drink. With all of his dreams dashed, the farm boy found no more reason to go on living.

And he would have died if not for the kindness of a strong blazer-wearing woman passing by. She took him in, broken as he was, and slowly nursed him back to health. Eventually he recovered and she offered to take him under her wing, training him to be a great Dupperware salesman and her protégé. After a long training period and a successful year of sales, he finally proposed to her. Together they were unstoppable and sold enough Dupperware to retire early to the outskirts of Piami, the sword long forgotten. They had two children that they loved dearly. Unfortunately both the kids broke into a well decorated cookie house and were baked into a pie by a witch, which was within her full legal rights to do to trespassers.

Heartbroken and unable to cope with the loss of their children, his wife took herself a young dwarven lover and disappeared in the middle of the night, taking the Dupperware fortune with her. The farm boy, who was now just a single man in his forties with no prospects or responsibilities, bought himself a new shiny black mustang and paraded the animal around town proudly, proving to everyone that he was better off in his new position and that his manhood was definitely still intact and well functioning. But eventually the newness of the horse wore off and the crippling depression set in. He sold it to a local glue factory and purchased himself a handful of cows to begin his own small dairy farm.

The farm boy, from then on, became known as the Cheese-Man in that small town. And the sword, still wedged in the black stone, was forgotten by all.

And that, my dear reader, is where my story begins.

Two

It had been an ordinary day full of ordinary cow things. I romped, I ate, I slept, I belched, and I pooped on anything that would stand still long enough. Overall, I considered it a complete and utter success until one of my hooves hit something odd in the grass. To my surprise I saw I’d accidentally kicked over a mushroom. It was a small piece of a larger ring of mushrooms, all red and polka dotted. I knew better than to eat those kinds, just from their smell, but they were very pretty to look at. Pulling my hoof back I turned away, the call of hunger leading me towards a nice patch of clover that had been missed by the other cows and their buttholes.

​Suddenly, from behind me, I heard a strange squealing sound, causing my ears to swivel around. I turned back and there was a horrendous looking creature, all spiny like a hedgehog and brown, but shaped like a tiny gangly human. It was jumping up and down in frustration, staring at the mushroom I had knocked over. Glaring at me it kicked off the ground, large orange and brown moth-like wings exploding from its back. The tiny nude figure, an older and sagging female from the looks of it, hovered in front of me, shouting things so quickly that they were hard to make out.

​You stupid creature, she screamed, waving her fists. I was surprised I could understand her, but then again, all fairies spoke Bovinglish. It was kind of her to curse at me in my own language. How dare you! How very dare you!

​I could not respond, for I was a cow. While we possess the ability to understand Bovinglish, speaking is another matter entirely.

​You’ve destroyed my fairy ring! I’ve been working on this for years, cultivating the mushrooms just right, correcting the soil, and breeding them for the best color and the most polka dots! Years of hard work, right down the drain! She pointed back to the mushroom circle. "How in the nine hells am I going to explain this to the fairy HOA? Are you going to pay the fine for not having a perfect circle? No, I bet you won't!"

​Again. No response. Cow.

​I could force you to eat one of the mushrooms you knocked over, she said with a wicked grin. You would die a slow and agonizing death. That might make me feel better. And I could use your corpse for compost.

​I shook my head. I’d heard of the fairy HOA and their steep fines from my great grandmother, as all cows are telepathic with other cows, and I knew it wasn’t something to be trifled with. Even though it had been an accident, it was clear I was in very real danger from this tiny creature. Everyone knew the fae had ways of exacting revenge and none of them ever missed an opportunity. I wanted to apologize, to say anything I could to make her understand it was an accident. I was even willing to offer up my prized secret patch of clover if it would help.

​No… I think that would be too mundane, she mused, tapping her chin with a tiny finger. I think we need something more fulsome, more lingering.

​I waited in abject terror, not knowing what the little creature would think of. For a brief moment I thought about eating her, but I doubted that would improve her mood or sit well with my four stomachs.

​Aha! she cried, snapping her fingers. I’ve got just the thing that will teach you to watch where you’re walking. She came forward, holding her hand out in front of my nose. "I curse you with the touch of Destiny."

​With that she tapped my wet nose.

​I stood frozen for a long moment, waiting for something to happen. My great grandmother had telepathically told me about animals turned inside out, cows lifted up into the air by a strange beam of green light to be whisked away, and the worst curse of all, turned into a people. But as I surveyed my surroundings slowly, checking my hooves and my flanks, I saw no change in my cowness. Everything was the same.

​The small fairy creature laughed. That curse is invisible and impossible to talk about, even to your cow friends. She smiled maliciously. It will take you far away from here, away from your home, and into certain peril. No matter what you do, you cannot escape Destiny. It will always find you.

With that, she cackled once more and disappeared with a pop into thin air.

Now to say I was thoroughly spooked was an understatement, but I also had major cow-brain that day. The next stiff breeze brought the sweet smell of clover and alfalfa my way and suddenly all my fairy problems were gone. Instead I scampered off into the pasture, looking for more things to chew and poop on.

Later that afternoon, as I was up by the main barn licking a block of salt that had been left out for us, I saw my owner, the Cheese-Man, sulking around like he usually did. I’d known him for my entire life, which had been the better part of three years. In cow years I was somewhere between sixteen and thirty-five. He’d always been kind of moody and depressed, carrying around his own personal raincloud, but that day was different. Something about him seemed more dark and melancholy than usual. I stood still with my tongue wrapping around the salt block as he approached. He always took great care of us cows, so I figured a little person to cow interaction might do him some good. People were notoriously bad at everything, so my presence would definitely help.

As he got to the fence he reached his hand over, stroking the tuft of black fur on the top of my head. My horns were shorter than most of the other cows, but I didn’t mind. I’d seen plenty of the neighbor bovines getting stuck in things because of them, but I was free to romp wherever I wanted. But back to Cheese-Man.

He continued to pet my head, a forced smile on his face.

Well buddy, things are getting tough here on the farm, he muttered quietly. The ex-wife took all my money and I’m afraid artisanal pasture-raised organic grass-fed raw milk aged in a whiskey barrel cheese just isn’t bringing in what it used to. Since you’re the bull of the herd, you’re the most dispensable.

He pondered me sadly for a moment as if I had any idea what he was saying. Cheese-Man did not speak Bovinglish and therefore, all I heard were the terrible screeching sounds people make.

I’m afraid the butcher in town has made me an offer I can’t refuse. I’ll need the money to survive this coming winter. He shook his head. Besides, I’m still paying off that mustang that I sold already. Horses just don’t hold value like they used to. As soon as you take them off the ranch their value decreases by at least twenty percent. He heaved a large sigh, continuing to pet me. But I’ll miss you buddy. You’ve been a good bull and a loyal friend.

His monotonous tone was starting to bore me and my tongue was going numb from all the salt. I went to move away at last, but the Cheese-Man walked around to the gate and pulled it open.

Now, to a cow, an open gate can be a good or bad thing, but what it means more than anything is freedom. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my pasture, but living in the same place all the time built up a backlog of bovine mischievousness that needed to be expressed. I wasn’t looking to be free forever, I just wanted the Cheese-Man to chase me for a few hours. It was good fun and to be honest, he looked like he needed the exercise.

Immediately I began making my way towards the open gate at a slow walk, waiting to make a break for it at the last moment. The last thing I wanted to be was suspicious. Instead I wanted to look curious and stupid, which seemed to disarm people and make them trust us. The Cheese-Man didn’t move and as I stepped up beside him he gently reached out to pat my side. I was just about to dash into the wide open world when I felt his hand around my halter.

Foiled again.

Trying to pull away I felt the Cheese-Man’s grip grow tighter. He pulled a rope from behind his back. I had no idea where it came from, but I knew what it meant. He was going to take me somewhere. I immediately calmed down again. It wasn’t freedom, but it was something new, and that was just as exciting. The Cheese-Man tied the rope around the halter and led me out into the barnyard, closing the gate behind me. He patted me on the side of the head once more and together we started down the road, heading away from the farm.

We passed the edge of the farm at the end of the road and followed a low stone wall towards town. I’d never been to the town of Piami before, but I’d heard rumors from my great grandmother that it was a magnificent place full of wonder. I felt the excitement shiver down my flanks and I pulled against the rope slightly, eager to finally see the extraordinary place I’d heard so much about.

No offense to moo-maw, but she was fucking wrong.

Piami was rundown and gloomy. All the buildings were surrounded by black iron fences, choked patches of brown grass, and the streets were filled with the appalling smell of arthritis cream and cigarettes. Everywhere I looked there was nothing but old bent people hobbling around with canes. A few of the richer elves looked like they had their own mini-carts pulled by ponies that drove them through the streets. One of them looked at the Cheese-Man and made a beeline for him.

Hey there sonny boy, the dirty and grizzled old orc woman said, smiling with a mouth devoid of teeth. That’s a nice cow you got there.

He’s the best cow ma’am.

Are you going to sell him?

That’s right. The farm’s in a right bad way and I need the money.

Hmm, she hummed, scratching her chin. Tell you what boy, I’m feeling generous today, so why don’t you take these five beans I have in exchange for your cow.

I can’t ma’am. I really need the money.

These is magic beans though.

What kind of magic?

She was quiet for a moment. How the hell should I know? Gerald gave them to me a week ago, but the old fart died before he could tell me what they were for.

The Cheese-Man was silent.

Well if you don’t want the beans, then come back to me after you sell the cow. She pulled aside her shawl displaying long rows of glass bottles filled with tiny white tablets. I’ve got every pill you could ever want. Arthritis, gout, bunions, dementia, depression, anxiety, pain, I can cure it all as you go to a magical place where all your dreams come true.

Even cows recognize a drug dealer when they see one.

No thank you ma’am. He shifted uncomfortably, tightening my rope. I best be on my way.

You’ll be back boy! They always come back for Madam Mabel’s happy good time tabs!

The Cheese-Man continued leading me through the streets until he reached a large town square. He stopped for a moment, staring at an imposing black building. It reached high into the sky, higher than seemed possible. Huge pillars erupted from the ceiling and belched black smoke into the air. The smell of it made me crinkle my nose in disgust. There was a large sign mounted to the front, but I couldn’t read people scratches. There was also a line of cows out the door and their farmers beside them with a rope in hand, just like the Cheese-Man. He took a few steps in their direction, but stopped, pulling me short.

Sighing loudly, he led me to a building on the other side of the square. There were happy voices inside and I was excited to join them, but the door didn’t look big enough for me. I rolled my eyes. The cow discrimination in Piami was obviously rampant. What happened to good old-fashioned accessibility? They didn’t even have a salt lick. It’s like they didn’t want cows around at all.

I’ll be back in a little bit buddy, the man said, leading me around the side of the building to a small patch of grass. I need a drink to steady my nerves.

Again, I heard nothing but gibberish.

Patting me once more, he turned away and walked inside.

The abnormally green grass was a welcome sight and I began munching immediately. A bitter taste filled my mouth on the first bite and I spit it out. Leaning down I sniffed. There was no hint of life. Pushing some aside with my nose I realized the underside was completely brown. The grass had been painted green.

Piami was obviously a horrible place and the smell of creams and vapor rubs was starting to make me dizzy. I glanced around, hoping to find a patch of real grass but instead I saw a massive black stone. In the center was a small metallic thing to which my rope was tied. The mischievous streak in my bovine blood began to bubble up and I saw my chance to get loose so I could finally play with the Cheese-Man. Also I wouldn’t mind a little lunch.

I tried pulling on the rope, but it didn’t seem to want to come loose. The Cheese-Man had done a good job tying it to the strange rod. Flinging my head side to side I thought I could wiggle it free, but no dice. Then a new thought struck me. What if I just pulled on the metallic thing? Maybe it would come free and I could run off. I’d done the same thing to a fence post once before, so I figured it was worth trying.

Leaning down I wrapped my tongue around the object and clicked my teeth into place. I braced myself for a hefty pull, remembering how much effort the fence post had taken. Digging my hooves into the soil I readied myself and yanked upwards.

To my surprise the metal stick came free without the slightest resistance. I reveled in my freedom for about half a second before the entire world tilted violently in front of me.

A warm sensation rippled through my body, starting at my mouth and traveling all the way to the tip of my tail. There was a sound like cow angels singing on high and sparkles filled the air around me. I dropped the object instinctively. Looking around I saw my vision had become clearer, my thoughts more coherent, and suddenly I felt aware of myself, not only as a cow but as a person, which was revolting mind you. Glancing up I noticed the building next to had a small sign that read The Gilded Gilt Tavern with a picture of a small golden pig on it.

I could read.

WHAT THE FUCK?

I looked across the town square at the imposing black building with a line of cows. The massive sign read Hamazon in all red letters. Most of the other shops had signs too small for me to make out, but I noticed at least a handful of them were pie shops. A sound drew my attention away from the buildings. It was an older orcish couple strolling past with sweatbands around their heads.

Are you listening to me, Hershel? the older woman yelled to the man at her side, waving her hand weights threateningly. "Barbara said she’s not going to bring the kids down for the holidays this year. Can you believe that? She thinks our neighborhood is unsafe after she decided to uproot her kids and move to Betroyt of all places! Can you imagine?"

The man, whether by choice or lack of hearing, didn’t answer.

We raised her better than that! And don’t even get me started on that loser husband of hers! Both of them are just so ungrateful! Back in my day we had to live in bad neighborhoods whether we liked it or not and you can bet your bottom copper I never complained. No no! I walked to school uphill both ways and ate nothing but poverty for breakfast! Why… I even had to pay my last six raspberries to get my own three bedroom house!

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Every word was crisp and clear, as if the woman spoke perfect Bovinglish. But I knew that couldn’t be true. I glanced down at the metallic object again. It was a bit tarnished, but I caught hints of silver and a bright ruby set into the pommel of what looked to be a shortsword. The blade was perfectly clean, obviously protected by the stone from the weather. But along the top were a series of strange holes and carvings, probably rusted out from years of weather.

Slowly it dawned on me that the blade must have given me my new gifts. The fairy hadn’t been joking. Her curse was real.

Holy fuckin’ cow, were the first words that escaped my cud-coated lips.

Three

Ilet out a muffled cow scream, the sound of my own voice unfamiliar and terrifying. I could speak! Between my enhanced eyesight and sudden ability to understand the people, I’d had just about as much excitement as I could handle. But the voice that escaped my lips pushed me over the edge. Wracking my brain I thought back on all the stories my great-grandmother had told me, trying to find some sort of insane explanation, but nothing came even close to what was happening to me now.

I glanced down at the sword once again, sensing the magical aura emanating from the steel. I knew it was the cause for all my problems. Reaching down I picked it back up with my teeth and tottered over to the stone. Turning my head to the side I examined the shiny black surface. There were no marks where the blade had been and no hole, like it had sealed itself after it came free. Desperate, I began beating the sword against the stone, chipping off pieces of black obsidian left and right, mooing in fury. Finally, in a fit of rage, I threw the sword. To my dismay the hilt was still tied to my rope and it came right back to me just like a weapon you could throw that would come back to you.

Mother fucking cow fucker! I yelled at the blade laying in the painted grass. Fuck damn balls cunt wungus!

Hey! an old dwarven woman called from nearby. Watch your mouth!

I swung my head up and glared at her, furrowing my cow brows.

Oh shi… my bad, she said, finally realizing a cow had been the source of the voice. She turned and power walked away, her butt swaying dangerously. Oh hell no! I ain’t dealing with no demon cow today, no sir!

I turned back towards the tavern and made my way around the building, the sword dragging behind me and clattering over the stones. The building had a small sort of porch where a pair of elderly elves were sitting, their white visors pulled low to block the sun. I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. I didn’t want to make a bad impression and things were already not going well.

Excuse me peoples, I said, putting on my best stupid cow face, making sure I was thoroughly wall-eyed. Can you please inform the Cheese-Man that I need his assistance? I believe he’s inside this establishment.

The man on the right stared at me wide-eyed, while the other man on the left just nodded.

Sure we can get him for you.

Don’t listen to a talking cow, Hank! the other hissed. He could be a demon!

Oh, calm down Freddy, Hank replied. We had a threesome with a minotaur three weeks ago and I didn’t see you worrying about a talking cow while you were riding his dick. He turned back to me. Just one moment.

Hank picked up his cocktail and slipped inside the tavern. Freddy, whom I now suspected was a cow fetishist, stared back at me with fear in his eyes.

So… I began, unsure of what to say to fill the silence. Are you and Hank together?

He nodded slowly.

I didn’t want to make any assumptions. You’re a cute couple, I replied. I picked the only thing I’d heard to make some small conversation. Freddy looked awfully unnerved by me and I wanted him to feel comfortable. Do… Do you have threesomes often? With minotaurs especially?

Freddy stared at me, his fear turning to confusion and then embarrassment. His cheeks and the tips of his ears grew red as he averted his eyes. I didn’t understand his reaction at all. Us cows had threesomes all the time, usually more. Sometimes the whole herd got involved when the lunar phase was right. Anyone who’s ever heard a bunch of cows mooing in the night knows exactly what they’re doing. I was starting to suspect people were less sexually liberated than cows. They didn’t have much going for them so far.

Before I could think of anything else to say, Hank reappeared followed closely behind by the Cheese-Man.

The black bull, right? Hank asked.

Yeah, he’s mine.

That’s a good looking animal to be taking to Hamazon.

Unfortunately I need the money, after the wife took off I got a little carried away with my mid-life crisis.

He stopped just outside the door, his eyes locking on me. He had a ceramic tankard in his hand and a small amount of beer foam on his upper lip.

How did he get fr—

He went silent as his gaze fell on the sword still attached to it.

Hello Cheese-Man, I said, putting on my best cow smile.

The tankard hit the ground and shattered, sending beer and foam all over the small porch.

Hank gave him a once over and motioned to Freddy. Come on Fred, time to go. This looks like it should be a private moment.

Fred got up from his chair and followed Hank back inside the Gilded Gilt Tavern. The Cheese-Man however, didn’t move.

Fuck, I whispered to myself. Maybe I can’t speak human. Just Orc, Elf, and Dwarf. I looked back up at my friend and forced myself to slow my speech down, speaking loudly so that he could understand. HELLO FRIEND. ME YOUR COW. GOOD TO SEE YOU.

The Cheese-Man was still silent, his mouth agape.

I tried again. FOUND SWORD. THINK IT MIGHT BE MAGIC. CAN TALK NOW. YOU UNDERSTAND?

Again nothing. Maybe he was just dumb? I’d heard him speak plenty of times without any idea what he was saying, so I really had no idea of his intelligence. All I knew was that he squeezed all the cow titties, made a lot of cheese, and was nice to us cows. Sighing, I tried to count my blessings. At least he was a nice guy even if he was kinda dumb.

H-how? he managed to squeak. How did y-you pull the s-sword?

I looked back at the blade dragging in the mud. I don’t know, I said, cow shrugging. I just pulled it out I guess.

And it was the best pull out method I’ve ever seen, a booming voice said from behind me.

A small fart escaped me as I clenched my butt in surprise. I spun on the spot, the sword clattering behind me. There, on the cobblestone street, was a tall man dressed in all black. His clothing was spotless, his teeth were shining white, and his head was so shiny and clean shaven that a beam of sun glinted off it and nearly blinded me. Squinting, I turned my head to the side to get the glare off me, giving the man a good once over.

Sorry there big fella, I didn’t mean ta scare ya! the man laughed, his joy sounding a little too forced.

Who the hell are you? I asked, backing up towards my Cheese-Man.

Why my name is Geoff Geezos. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.

Nope.

He faltered slightly, the smile on his face growing more manic. I’m the owner of this here fine establishment. He swept his arm back behind him, gesturing to the massive Hamazon building. My factory here takes in products from all over the world and puts them in one big magical catalog for people to buy from. All you need is a Hamazon wand and spellbook for the low monthly price of thirteen coppers and you can order anything you need at any time. Then, thanks to our fabulous fairy workers, your order is delivered right to your door in less than two days. Isn’t that a wonderful thing?

I… guess? Why was this guy trying so hard?

We think so. And here at Hamazon our customer satisfaction is our number one priority.

​That’s a lie! an old gnome shouted as he tottered past. Why this one time they—

​But before he could finish Geoff Geezos produced a pitch black wand from his cloak and gave it a wave. A sound rent the air like the screeching of a thousand demons as a black hole ripped open in front of the gnome. Dozens of thick black tentacles whipped out, wrapped around his body, and yanked him inside before the portal slammed closed with a thunderous boom. Nothing was left but his walker now dripping in black ichor.

​Geoff turned back to me, still smiling as if nothing was wrong. Seeing the terrified look on my face and everyone in the square, he chuckled once more.

​Oh don’t worry, he proclaimed loudly. I’ve merely sent him to our customer service department to get a full refund on his products! We love our customers at Hamazon!

​There was a collective oh as everyone nodded in approval.

​Wow, Geoff is such a great guy…

​Hamazon has everything, I love them!

​I can’t wait for my new cabbages to get here!

​"That guy is definitely not the villain of this book!"

​Everyone, now chatting about Hamazon, continued their way through the streets as if nothing had happened. I, however, was not convinced.

​So what do you want, Geoff? I asked, lifting a furtive brow in his direction.

​Directly to the point, I like that about you, cow. He glanced down at the sword. You have pulled the sword of kings from the stone and are now the one and true king of all the land. I would like to bring you on as my protege at Hamazon. Between your royal status and my perfectly amiable company, I think we could do a lot of good!

​I’m not a king, I replied flatly. I’m a cow and I’m content with my life.

"But you pulled the sword! That makes you a king among kings! Together we could bring Hamazon to every home in the world! It would make so many lives easier and we’d provide high quality jobs to the locals, boosting the economy and raising their standard of living, and we absolutely would never force them to stay at work and die in a tornado! All it will take is you and that sword to make thousands of people happy."

Yeah, I’m not much of a business bovine, I’m good. And I really don’t want the sword, so you can have it if you like.

​Geoff’s face darkened and his voice grew deep and gravelly. Only the one who pulled it from the stone can handle the sword. Any unworthy who touches it will be consumed by flame and thrown into the pits of hell for all eternity.

​The fuck…

​But I’d be more than happy to have you on my team, he said, his voice bubbly once more.

I didn’t reply.

Geoff continued to smile. Tell you what, why don’t you think about it for a bit and let me know? He pulled out a black card from his cloak and held it out to me. Here’s my card. Call me when you’ve made a decision.

With that he bowed and lifted his wand. Spinning on his heel he disappeared with a tiny pop. In his wake was a tiny poof of glitter and the black business card that fluttered down at my feet. To my surprise the Cheese-Man came up beside me and stooped down to pick it up.

I think I understand what’s going on now, he said sadly.

I’m glad you do because, quite frankly, I’m lost.

I think it’s time we went home.

Gladly. This is enough weirdness for one day.

Steering clear of the sword, the Cheese-Man led me across the square. He paused for a moment at a small shop. Bidding me to stay put he slipped inside. After a few minutes he returned with a small satchel that he put around my neck and a sword sheath. It took him a few moments to strap the sheath to my leg, but it was a perfect fit for the sword with holes in it. He tucked the black card into the satchel and once again we set off for home.

I was excited to get back to the farm and tell everyone about the things I’d seen in Piami. All the cows would be jealous of my new satchel that the Cheese-Man had bought me. It was so supple it almost seemed like it was made of my own skin, but I knew people would never turn cows into leather. They were too good for that. And there were so many things out in the pasture that I could put inside its pockets. Glancing down I began to wonder how much alfalfa it could hold.

To my surprise the Cheese-Man didn’t take me back to the pasture when we got back to the farm. Instead he took me to the house, keeping me out of sight of the barn and the other cows. With only a few yards left to go he stopped, turning back to face me, his brows drooping low.

What’s wrong Cheese-Man? I asked, seeing his melancholy expression.

Destiny has called upon you, he said with sadness thick in his voice. Long ago I tried for the sword and hoped it would be me… but that time has passed. Now you must take up this mantle and lead the world into everlasting peace and prosperity.

Why are you talking like that?

​Take your newfound power my child, he began.

Child? Weren’t you just going to sell me to Hamazon like an hour ago? I eyed him suspiciously. What do they even do with cows there? Is it like a retirement home or something?

Go grab your Destiny by the horns. Be the king I know you can be and lead our people to peace and prosperity forevermore.

​You know I’m a cow, right? I don’t even have thumbs. I can’t grab anything. I paused. "Also,