February 7, 2004
When Mad Cows Go Bad
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Out on the Western horizon, just a black speck at first, but the icy air carries a low rumbling of jumbled mooing. The townsfolk scatter as the speck resolves into what they knew it would be, a roving herd of mad cows. Children laugh at the sight of their spongiform heads bouncing down the streets, but the adults quickly pull them from the window and draw the curtains. "This will pass, this will pass...."
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