COWS

by Matthew Stokoe

That day in his teens was confirmation of what he had suspected since birth - that he was incapable of manipulating life as other people did. Unlike them he could have no effect on the web of events that surrounded him, he could bring about no change.

had his dick in a cow.

Exqueez me!!!!

Cripps shoved him into the light.

Reality would be a frightened rush to the finish with no time to linger over details, a headlong plunge to get it over with before his courage gave out, before a lifetime of conditioning reared up and robbed his arms of strength.

The killing of the afternoon was stored inside him, weighted by the heavier, following torture, but he was afraid to examine it, afraid to search for its effects. That part of his brain was temporarily locked.

I feel like this echos how the reader feels after the last chapter too.

"Ah, man, we're always watching. And we know Cripps. He's been here forever and this ain't the first time it's happened. He told you the slaughtermen weren't like other men, right? He talked about power and freeing yourself to take whatever you want. And you thought 'Shit, that's just what I need. He's right, look how different those guys are'."

Are the cows hallucinations with Stevens inner rational thoughts?

The shit was packed in his guts - twenty five years of terror and loneliness, of brutality and an endless rain of hate. He breathed in deeply, tightened the muscles of his stomach, and shot every ounce of it in a thick pole down her throat. The Hagbeast thumped up and down, vibrating in a mad death dance as the shit blocked her from mouth to belly. Steven had to reach round and hold on to her head until she went limp.

Was this written pre or post the human centipede?

He left the Hagbeast where she was and went to get Lucy. They spent the rest of the day moving her things into the flat.

Lucy is Cray

Cripps was right.

Noooooooo!

They were blessed with happiness from birth, but he had had to force his into being with the strength of his own hands and will.

It took a week of snivelling through early morning hours until he understood what he needed. A death. Killing.

Bro needs a doctor!

At lunchtime the Guernsey pressed its face against the ventilation grille and spoke to Steven.

He gets depressed and the cows come back ...they're not real

encouragements that were the last rites in the faith of himself.

When the monotony reached a point where Steven thought he could no longer contain his rage the cows, absent since Cripps, came again.

...srsly...