Jane focused on the fact that it was all her husband’s fault to avoid thinking about being a cow. She was going to sneak home, get him to turn her back, and then kill him. Slowly.
“Oh my god.” Sarah cried beside her. Sarah was a red jersey and made even looking like a cow look elegant.
“What?” Jane asked.
“I threw up in my mouth, and swallowed it again!” Sarah shuddered.
“It’s called chewing your cud.” Jane growled and peered back around the corner of the Fleishman’s house. “Cows and sheep have to do it to process their food.”
“It’s gross!”
The coast seemed clear. “Come on, let’s go.”
They stampeded down the driveway with Carol Fleishman bringing up the rear, crying, “Don’t walk on the grass! Don’t walk on the grass.”
You would think that having been turned into a cow, that leaving hoof prints in your perfect lawn would be the last thing you’d worry about. God, Jane hated suburbia. It was all her husband fault for moving them into the land of soccer moms. The book club was his idea. “You need friends!” he had then actually added, “A herd to run with.”
She was just going to kill him.
Said “herd” crossed Mockingbird Lane and went down the Hathaway’s driveway and around the back of their house. They all hated the Willow Hathaway, so no one complained when she cut through the backyard.
“Ewwww,” Beth cried. “I just licked up my nose!”
“Oh my god,” Alice squeaked, and then wailed when they all turned to look at her. “Don’t look at me! Don’t look at me!”
She turned and fled back toward Mockingbird, plopping out splatters of cow patties behind her.
Jane was just going to kill her husband. This was all his fault.
Published on July 09, 2012 22:09