Summary: By Laura Lee McArdle Read by Christiana Ellis Discuss on our forums. An Escape Pod Original! All stories by Laura Lee McArdle All stories read by Christiana Ellis Rated 15 and up for explicit language Food for Thought By Laura Lee McArdle He didn’t look much like the humans I knew—their eyes squinting out of wind-burnt faces from atop the backs of their rude horses. This one had a face like butter, not a wrinkle to be seen. And he didn’t arrive on a horse, rude or otherwise, just popped out of thin air and started talking to me. Not at me. To me. “Slow down,” I said flicking a fly off my broad backside. “Wilfred, right? You are responsible for the fence posts?” “Yeah sure,” said Wilfred. “Now listen to me. I just need a thirty second vignette when I say ‘action’. Can you do that for me? “Sure,” I said. I love to talk about myself. “You heard the animal,” he shouted to no one I could see. “Food For Thought, take one. Action!” “Uh, Bess here. Folks call me the conspiracy theorist. And I laugh. But honestly if you don’t spend some time speculating out here what are you going to do? Me, I walk the fence, count the posts and calculate trigonometric functions. And I am convinced there is a way to get my 1200 lb bulk past these 4000 odd posts and reams of barbed wire. By the way, I’ve come pretty far with the weight issue, thank you very much. The secret is small frequent meals, so I pretty much eat a little bit all the time when I’m not counting posts. The other trick, that I don’t think any of my sisters have clocked on to, is to just not use stomachs three and four. Sure it takes practice, even surgery for lesser minds, but if you don’t have a project out here you will simply go mad. But I digress. The fence around East Pasture, the present location of my languid existence, has 4409 posts. That’s a rather large prime number. Coincidence? I think not! The fence is clearly a test to separate the truly intelligent from the herd. Since I am clearly at the pinnacle of bovine braininess and already somewhat estranged from my herd I know it’s only a matter of time before I pass.” “Cut!” screamed Wilfred beaming. “Bess, my dear, that was gorgeous. You are a natural born… monologist.” He clapped and did a little dance that made his sequined garment bounce and sparkle in the sun. “Monologist? Is that a word?” “Whatever. You, the monologue—the viewers are going to lap it up. I,” –he paused for effect- “am a genius.” I snorted. “I thought you said I was the genius.” “Did I say that? I meant savant. Anyway, you found the posts and you’re coming in loud and clear on the translator, so season 24 is a go!” He degenerated into dancing again, executing an exuberant pirouette. “Hold on a minute there Wilf. I did the little self-introduction you wanted. I’ve been extremely cooperative. Now fill me in. What’s the real deal with the fence? Where did you come from and why are you testing me?” Wilfred poked a handheld device with his index finger and yelled instructions toward some point behind him. “Frank! Roll cameras I need tape of this!” “Rolling Wilf,” a disembodied voice answered. “Excellent. Now Bess, you know those humans who come here, check you over, give you medicine?” He grinned in a way that raised the hair on the back of my neck. “Yeah”. He leaned in close to my twitching ears. “They grind you up and eat you.” “I knew it!” I bellowed and stamped. “I’ve said it over and over again, but no-one takes me seriously. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” I trotted in circles trying not to hyperventilate while Wilfred watched with obvious pleasure. “Wait a second.” I rounded on Wilfred. “You’re [...]
