The guy in front of me, I don't know why he thinks it's okay to walk his cow through the grocery store  The cow itself - fried from the neck down. – like the Chinese restaurants where they dip the bodies of fish in hot oil while the head stays alive.
 
And the ladies behind me – why they think it's okay to talk anywhere they want, as loud as they want, decked out in rayon.  Like they've never read the New Testament.
 
This cow's tail twitches, its skin flaky golden, crisp, and meat white like chicken.  The cow's face, pure confusion.  The look in the cow's eyes is something else, and the fur has all been burned off.
 
Somehow, the cow's body works just enough to walk.  Maybe they hadn't fried it all the way through – who knows?  Hell, I've been sunburned so bad myself before, I could almost sympathize.
 
I turn around to the ladies behind me, but, naturally, they're still talking.  And the volume!  It gets to the point where I cannot believe that anybody could talk so loud, the voices etching permanent grooves inside my brain, carving lines so deep I will never get to hear them shut up.  Even when I leave my grocery cart and walk home empty handed, I can still not get their voices out of my head.