The Dancing Cow

Her foot tapped wildly against the wooden floor, and her eyes frantically glanced outside the kitchen window that was just above the sink, each pupil searching for the cherry Ford Escape that would soon be pulling in the driveway. When her attention flashed elsewhere within the kitchen, she ensured that her ears served as a replacement, listening for the low hum of the garage door that would signal his arrival. Her pupils never seemed to fixate on one particular thing for more than a few seconds. From the granite counter-top-following its pattern and tracing each differentiating color: charcoal blacks and ashy grays- to where the toaster and coffeepot sat, resting against the side of the refrigerator. Her vision finally rested upon the picture of her kissing him on the cheek, his eyes clamped shut from the laughter that rocked his motionless face. The picture rested in between two pieces of clear plastic, mounted on a magnetic strip that clung to the freezer door. She quickly averted her eyes from the two of them. Her ribcage throbbed from how tightly she was crossing her arms, but there was not a mental confirmation to be made that would suggest loosening the grip she had against her own body. The fabric on either side of her flannel had become wrinkled from her fingers’ constriction. Her gaze settled upon the coffee creamer she had placed in the middle of the counter top. She deliberately had cleared the area so that nothing else was competing for attention.

The bottle was immaculately placed so that it was facing the entrance to the kitchen. The label was aligned with where his incoming eyes would fall. He would be able to physically see the mistake he had made. The cow that stood, frozen in dance on the front of the bottle, stepped off of the plastic, her bell jingling from her swift trots of grace. The cow skipped to the edge of the counter that was closest to the portion of wall she had been leaning against. The animal began giggling, and her fatty gut shook from the added pressure it was now forced to sustain. The giggles quickly grew into cackles, resulting in the violent releasing of gongs from the bell strapped around her neck.  She released the fabric that was balled in her fists with a robotic motion, and, gently, she lowered her arms from their crossed position, letting them extend downward against her outer thighs. Her fingers were neither curled nor straight. They seemed incapable of remaining in either position. Instead, they resembled talons that quivered with the urge to lash upon unsuspecting prey. The veins that that flowed into each knuckle became a blistered white as the muscles beneath them tensed. She slid her right foot against the freshly polished, wooden floor, inching closer to the counter-top. The cow continued her chortled hysterics, and paid no attention what was coming towards her.

She didn't bother standing up straight as she slid against the floor towards the counter. Her back and shoulders curved inward, revealing the bony spinal cord and its lack of fatty protection. Each vertebra that poked against her flannel looked like spines coating the back of a crocodile.  Her jaws were clinched shut, but her lips were parted, revealing the teeth through which air whistled in and out of. She raised her talons and took a sudden lunge at the dancing cow, a low grunt escaping from between her teeth. Her elbows rammed against the top of the granite, and electric shocks reverberated throughout both arms, her ulnar nerves having been collided against. The echo of the bell ricocheted off each wall as the cow bounded away from her. She slid backwards, off the counter-top, crouching at shoulder-level with the granite.

The air blew furiously in and out of her parted teeth, and she let out a resonating growl from deep within her throat before taking another lunge towards the cow, who merely chuckled and danced her way back to the creamer bottle, where she made a final leap back into her jovial position as a dairy icon.

“Karen!”

She heard his booming voice resonate her name, and she paused, unmoving for several seconds, before slowly turning her head in the direction of the door that was just outside the kitchen entryway. How long had he been standing there, watching? She quickly snapped her attention back to the creamer bottle, but the dancing cow remained still. Karen did not return her gaze to him; he remained standing, motionless just outside of the kitchen. Everything that had been curdling within her for the past nine hours came boiling to her mouth.

“When were you going tell me, Jonathon?” The words slithered out of her mouth.

His mouth was hanging agape, still in shock from however much he had witnessed of her engagement with the cow. He shook his head with a jolt, bringing him back to the question Karen had just spat at him.

“Tell…tell you what exactly, Karen?” He squinted his eyes at her, taking a few cautious steps forward, entering the room. His eyes took a quick swirl around the kitchen, before allowing his attention to remain on Karen.

“You know precisely what I am referring to, Keith. I am talking about this!” She reached over and snagged the coffee creamer bottle with the dancing cow and hurled it in his direction. He ducked his head just as it smacked against the wall. It fell with a thud, the liquid inside sloshing against the container. The dancing cow raised her hoof, attempting to stifle a laugh, and Karen leapt to the floor, but the cow made no attempt to escape. Karen seized the bottle from the wooden, freshly polished floor, and righted herself so that she was facing her husband.

“This! This is what you didn’t tell me! How long have you been buying my favorite coffee creamer?!” She didn’t wait for a response. “And, now, of all times, you decide to get something else! Something that I probably won’t even like! And…and that cow! The cow knows that you didn’t buy the right creamer! She probably was laughing the entire time that you were shopping, all the way to the checkout and well into the parking lot, making a fool out of you! Who the hell do you think you are?! Huh?” She started pushing him back against the wall, wishing to shred each piece of skin holding his insides together.

Keith held his hands up and grabbed both of her talons. He gently straightened each claw and interlaced his fingers with them. He took a deep breath, holding her hands firmly against his when she attempted to rip them away. And began to sing. She shook her head aggressively from side to side- quick, jutting movements that the muscles in her neck could not even register. It doesn’t matter what I sing for her. It works every time. It has to. Over and over, Keith began reassuring himself that it would work. The tension in Karen’s claws began to weaken, and her fingertips closed around her husband’s, gripping them tightly.

Keith withdrew another breath, before releasing it in a stressed voice of confidence, “Rachel, honey! Did you see that I got you your favorite coffee creamer yesterday? I know that they don’t sell it anymore at Safeway, so I ordered it online, and it was finally delivered yesterday evening!” 

He waited for a few seconds, before she smiled at him and said, “Oh, darling. You are such a sweet man. Thank you so much.”