He heckin’ hated moos, boy howdy. Couldn’t hear me hollerin’ in the cellar, but if them cows started talkin’ he’d shoot green lightnin’ outta the window ’n’ some kinda sorta-bread would always fall outta the sky, ’n’ I got wise after a while ’n’ kept some butter handy for them times because summa that sorta-bread tasted kinda good—”
