The Life and Death of Polly the Cow

A Story by Anor

Humorous short story, heavily affected by the writing of P.G.Wodehouse's Blanding's Castle stories.

Oh dear Lord!...
To Alexander, Earl of Durnenshire, it seemed as though his day could not possible get any worse. As he sat there the great hall of Durnen Castle, watching the sweepers deal with the disturbing dead cow on the floor, he glumly noticed that everything had gone wrong for him that day. And in the most dramatic manner possible, too.

Why did it HAVE to be today? It really had been due to the extreme convergence of probability that this day had gone like this. He once again began to reminisce.
The day had started very well. Alexander and his loyal butler Tibbles had been preparing Durnen Castle for the King's welcoming party. They had put painstaking work into making sure that every detail was perfect. Massive purple curtains hung from the massive curved windows. Large, opulent red carpets were laid out in all the corridors and halls, adding a rather splendid effect to the whole thing. But Alexander and Tibbles wanted perfection! No floor could be shiny enough, no rug straight enough! But eventually, even Alexander was satisfied with the majority of the preparations, and decided to go the kitchens to check on the progress of the roast beef.

In retrospect, this was where it had started to go wrong. In that dramatic way which was mentioned earlier.

Alexander, First of the King's Men, Earl of Durnenshire, Self-Appointed Vizier of Justice, Knight of Truth, entered the kitchens to see what could be described as no less than a battle. The scene was a strange one. Ten or more cooks well armed with cleavers and rolling pins were advancing on a vaguely familiar cow. Alexander seemed to remember purchasing it for the dinner. It seemed that the cow was a princess, however, because one lone ebony skinned chef was championing for her. And if Alexander had thought that the previous cooks were well armed, it was nothing compared to this dark skinned hero, with his two massive butchering knives.

Upon seeing their Earl enter the room, the chefs suddenly veered away from what had promised to be an exciting, if rather dangerous performance, and decided to do what employees did best. Complain.

'M'lord, this fool won't let go of that dratted cow. Says meat is murder or summing of the sort.'

'Earl, this man is insane! We were just going to butcher old Polly when 'e jumps in front of 'er and starts 'ollering about animal's rights. Mad, isn't it?'

'Sir, when I signed up to be a chef, I was fairly sure that my ethics would be accounted for, and you can understand that me, with my religion being what it is, wouldn't want to see murder take place in front of my eyes, can't you?'

Noise, noise, noise!

Alexander wanted to scream at them all, but he knew that the hardest ego to mend was a chef's, and considering that there were seven French chefs here, he decided that it would be better for the sake of the roast beef if he simply kept quiet.

He did, however, promptly dismiss his errant servant, who spluttered indignantly, but finally acquiesced to leave, with the fair maiden Polly making distressed noises as her last lifeline left.

Alexander then told the chefs to get on with it, and decided to go to re-check the status of the dining hall. As he walking in through the large domed archway, he noted happily that nothing in particular seemed to be awry there. Carpets on the floor, curtains in front of the windows, orchestra in its proper place- Wait, was someone talking to the orchestra?

Alexander frowned and went up to the orchestra to be greeted by a grim sight. The pious chef had just been talking to them, and on seeing Alexander, had run away. And if the grim faces of the band were anything to judge by, he hadn't been saying anything positive.

All of the orchestra started speaking to Alexander at once, and through the rather profane jumble of words, he managed to glean some information. The orchestra, consisting mainly of those revolutionary youths who were fashionable with the younger generation, thought of Alexander's dismissal of the errant chef as a racial prejudice, and said right there and then that they did not intend to play for elitist snobs.

Alexander watched in despair as the orchestra packed up and left, and would probably have thrown a tantrum had the royal fanfare not just sounded. The King had arrived.
After exchanging some pleasantries, the King entered the hall and made small talk with Alexander. He had noticed, he said, that there was no musical performance, such as was custom to play at these events? Not that he minded, of course, Oh No, he was just curious. Alexander meekly replied that it was simply so hard to hire good orchestras in this day and age, and he had decided that no orchestra was better than a bad orchestra.

At that moment, there was suddenly a loud *CRASH* followed by an equally loud *SNAP* as the door to the kitchen broke, and Polly the cow, taking 'charge' of her own life, ran out into the hall, and roared. Alexander simply stood there, looking helpless, and then turned to the wake of the cow's destruction. Behind the rubble of the broken door he could see a grinning dark face. It seemed that he had been wrong to make an enemy of this person, but it was too late to take it back now.

There was complete pandemonium in the hall. The appearance of this cow had scared everyone out of their minds, and they were at their wit's ends.
The previously mentioned well armed culinary experts now also dashed into the hall, and one bright little man decided that it would be a good idea to take the initiative, and he brought his cleaver down on Polly then and there. Polly let out a loud cry of distress, and then fell down dead on the floor. A sudden hush fell on everyone in the hall. The chefs were silent, the King was silent, the orchestra (who had been masquerading as potted plants) were quiet, and even Tibbles was quiet.

Then they all heard a sound. A cow-like sound. Not the pleasant moo which people read about, but more like the actual MYEAAARGGHHHHH that cows are prone to make. There was a massive shattering noise and one of the curtains ripped as a massive bull charged into the hall, and MYEARGH'd once more. It looked like they were in trouble. It seemed that one of Polly's sweethearts had heard her call of distress and had come to the aid of their (now fallen) princess.

The bull (let's call him Bob), saw the carcass that had once been the slender, brown-and-white beauty that was Polly, and roared in anguish. Then it slowly turned around and observed the whole room. It seemed to notice the King in particular.
The King and the Bull looked at each other, observing, gauging their enemy's strength. A certain apprehension entered both combatants' eyes. But then Bob decided to charge, and gored the King's arm.

Everybody instantly rushed to the aid of their fallen ruler, and the well trained SWAT ( Still Wondering About Tea) team of chefs leapt into combat with the bull. A great battle took place, but in the end Bob was subdued, despite his valiant attempts to live on. The chefs stepped back, surveying a job well done, and expectantly looked at Alexander.

Alexander now finished his reminiscing to see that their eyes were still on him, and they looked hopeful. Oh dear, he thought. Surely, surely they weren't expecting a raise?

© 2012 Anor

Author's Note

My first real attempt at humour.

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Marius Partenie

Pretty good for a first attempt. It's funny and I laughed a few times.

The whole scene is quite hilarious. I found the text insertions like "(let's call him Bob)" to be funny. Also, the name Tibbles, but not sure why.

It is a very good piece of work. I pictured it like a short Pixar animation.