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The Clowned Cowboy

Man, I tell ya, it wasn’t just any bull.  It was damnit ass Zeus!

And I rode that beast over damnit ass eight ticks.  If you don’t know, a long ass damn time.  8.8 seconds was my time.  Damn me, It was my time.

You hear me?  It was my time.

But no, nah, you hadn’t heard of me, have ya?  You heard about me?  You heard about Daron Bolton?  No?  Told ya.  You shoulda, but no. Who’d you hear about instead- Calvin.  That’s right Calvin, the rookie rodeo clown.  Oh my fault, I meant to say “rodeo protection athlete,” as he corrected me when I wished him luck before the rodeo at the Oklahoma state fair began.

Who knew how much luck I had wished the prick?

Enough, that he stole my damn moment.

Did I tell ya it was Zeus? No cowboy ever went passed 5 seconds before I handled those horns that night, but that didn’t turn out to be the story.  No, it was Calvin alright.  The clown, sorry- the rodeo protection athlete, who got the headlines.

Wouldn’t know it, right after my damn historic ride, I mean right damn after, Zeus goes and kills Calvin, murdered him I mean. 

There’s a difference.  A rodeo clown gettin’ killed by a bull doesn’t grab headlines.  Shit, I tell you, ask any bull rider, clown, anyone workin’ the rodeos.  They’ll tell ya clowns get killed by bulls.  It happens, but to be murdered by a bull, that’s damn rare.

What made Calvin’s death the big story from the rodeo, shit, what made everyone forget my historic ride was the way Zeus killed him.  That damn bull shoved a horn right through Calvin’s eye, ripping it out the socket. Then he flipped his body twenty feet up in the air.  I didn’t actually see it cause I was running to the gates, but they said Calvin’s body did at least 5 back flips before hitting the dirt, damn that!  That wasn’t the end of it though.  Nah, Zeus was mad as hell.  I tell ya, I think that beast was fuming cause I got over 8 seconds on his bucking back.  Everyone tells me I’m full of myself when I say that shit though. 

Still, Zeus next shoved another horn up Calvin’s ass and then carried his kicking legs and arms toward the fence, slamming him against it.  Zeus didn’t do it just one time. Nah, that damn beast pulled back and slammed him again, and again, and again I tell ya.  

This, I saw with my own eyes. 

I can’t tell ya when Calvin turned dead.  No one can, but when Calvin’s body got lodged between the upper bars of the stands’ wall, I could hear him squealing.  That’s right before Zeus ripped his body in half, gross as shit. 

If you’re one of the few who didn’t hear about this, then you probably thought you heard the worst.  Nope. Zeus then started chewing his lower torso, eating him. That’s until a security guard shot Zeus dead with a shot gun. 

It took over seven shots to kill him. 

Think about that damn fact.  I rode a bull for more seconds than the amount of bullets it took to kill a multiple ton animal.   

Damn me, I’m not arguing that Calvin’s death wasn't a main headline. 

If it wasn’t, then society is sick, right?

I’m just asking all of yall, where’s my headline?  I’m a footnote at best, but a footnote to Calvin’s damn story. 

Well damnit, that ain’t my story.

You ain’t alone if you think I’m selfish, my old man and coach almost damnit ass strangled me to death when they heard me complaining at Calvin’s funeral about not gettin’ any recognition for my ride.  My old man yelled right in my face, well more spitting than yelling.  He told me, “to show some god damn respect.”  He made me remember, “that clown saved your damn life, boy.”

My old man is right. 

If it wasn’t for Calvin tapping the bull and distracting him, then Zeus’s horn’s woulda been up my fallen body’s ass.  They tell me, Zeus was headin’ for me. Damnit, of course he was.  I got over eight seconds on the beast. 

For this, I’m supposed to be grateful to Calvin. 

Damn that, I’m alright to die if everyone knew I just handled that beast for over 8 seconds.  You kidding me?  Go out like that. 

Man I tell ya, that’s every cowboy’s dream.  If they ain’t dreamin’ that, they ain’t real cowboys. 

Now what though?  Thanks to Calvin the hero, I didn’t get to die on top, nor get the second place prize.  I didn’t get to ride out my life with everyone knowing that I rode the Zeus for over eight and be a legend.  Nah, I get to live the rest of life as a footnote to Calvin’s death, rather than everyone knowing I rode the beast like no other cowboy ever had. It ain’t like I can do it again. The damn mega bull is dead. 

It’s like that damn philosophy question.  If a tree falls in the woods but nobody is there to hear it, did it make a sound.

Well, I can tell ya now.  The answer is yes.  Damn it, yes! The tree made a damn sound and I rode that lunatic bull for over eight seconds.