The Cow Chronicles Part 5: Clickbait

The light of Farmer Joe’s flashlight cut through the dark tunnel like a two-edged sword, leaving no scrap of darkness behind.

Shortly after they discovered the tunnel, the government agents had cut the power to the farm in an attempt to slow them down. And it was working.

The cows let out panicked moos, climbing over each other in a mad dash to the door at the end of the tunnel.

The door itself was made of the same stainless steel as the door into the tunnel. Like everything on the farm, the door was old and worn. The only difference between the two was the lack of a green button. In the buttons place was a small screen at cow height. On the screen, the words “SCANNING FOR HOOFPRINT” flickered.
Mr. Chuckles came forward, and pressed his hand against the scanner. Or at least he tried.

In a split second, the door leading into the tunnel was obliterated, sending metal fragments flying through the tunnel. A dust cloud filled the tunnel, stinging the cows’ eyes. Through the ever-expanding layers of dust, Farmer Joe and the cows could see something approaching. The figure than attained the shape of a human. Soon, four more of them appeared. These five figures were none other than Agent Richard Wachowski of the United States Central Intelligence Agency and four other agents.
The cows, already frightened, became catatonic. A stampede broke out. Farmer Joe was trampled. And then everything went black.

Farmer Joe slowly came to. He was lying on a rough, concrete floor, with yellow lights wavering and flickering above. He tried to pull himself up, but stopped instantly when a sharp stab of pain jolted through his left leg. It must have been broken in the stampede.

“Hey! We forgot someone!”, a woman’s voice shouted. He looked over to one end of the tunnel. Two government agents were running down the length of the tunnel, training automatic pistols on him.

Farmer Joe attempted to punch one of the agents as she searched through a backpack for something. The moment he got a few inches above the ground, a jolt of pain stabbed through his body.

“Gahhh!”, he screamed. It was then that he noticed what the agent had been searching for in her backpack. A look of triumph and glee on his face, he brandished a long, slender tranquilizer gun. It was bedecked with clear tubing full of a bubbling, orange liquid. Whatever it was, it did not look like something you would want in your veins.
The agent pressed the gun against Farmer Joe’s injured leg. The cold metal of the gun provided a tiny bit of comfort, but not for long.

A wicked grin creeping across her face, the agent pulled the tranquilizer guns trigger. The pain in Farmer Joe’s leg became unbearable as what felt like a needle was inserted into his leg. It became even worse as the agent pressed the trigger even further, flooding his leg with whatever was in it.

And then, the sweet relief of darkness.

“His heartbeat is picking up. Get Wachowski over here”

Farmer Joe’s eyes were filled with grit, the type that you find in your eyes when you wake up. The first thing he noticed was that his leg was feeling much better, albeit stiff.

He was lying on a cot in a room. Overhead, blue fluorescent light strips gave the room an uncomfortably institutional feel. The room felt like a classroom, with plaster walls and a linoleum floor, but what classroom would have nothing in it but a cot and a mirror?

“What’s his status?” It was the same voice that had reported that his heartbeat was picking up.

“He’s fully awake. Where is Wachowski? I told you to send for him.”, another voice responded. Farmer Joe noticed that the voices seemed to be coming from a mirror.

“Where am I? More importantly, where in the universe are the cows?”, Farmer Joe angrily asked to the mirror.

“He’s onto us.” It was Agent Wachowski, sounding more tired than usual.

“You!”, Farmer Joe shouted. He ran up to the mirror, and pounded it with his fists.

“Do you know how much it costs Uncle Sam to replace these mirrors?”

Farmer Joe whirled around. Behind him stood Agent Wachowski. It was then that Farmer Joe noticed the door next to the mirror.

“Come with me”, Wachowski told him.

The door led to a room on the other side of the mirror. It had the exact same dimensions, materials, and lighting as the room Farmer Joe had been held captive in. The mirror was actually a one-way window, with someone in this room being able to monitor a person in the other. Pushed against the wall was a metal desk, on which rested a coffee cup with the CIA logo, a laptop with a label reading “R. Wachowski”, and a dog-eared copy of 1984. On the other wall were two more desks, at which sat two tired men staring at computer screens. Both screens showed various views of security cameras.

“Williams, pull up the farm camera network”, Agent Wachowski told one of the men. “Farmer Joe would like to see his farm.”

Williams tapped a few keys on the computer keyboard, and a different camera came up.

The cow farm was in shambles. The pastures were crawling with government agents patrolling the region. Here and there, a team of inspectors were inspecting the fallen laser cows. Much to Farmer Joe’s chagrin, it seemed that the agents were searching the house, throwing furniture outside.

“What the heck is all this?”, Farmer Joe asked incredulously.

“Now that we’ve captured a terrorist, it’s only customary to conduct a brutal, search of your property so we can find any dangerous stuff”, Williams replied

“For the last goddarn time! I’M NOT A TERRORIST!!”, Farmer Joe roared.

“That’s not what the town hero says. Williams, pull up the live feed of WCUS-13 TV”, Wachowski breathlessly told Williams. Another few clicks, and Farmer Joe was speechless with anger.

“. . .discovered that local dairy farmer Farmer Joe was not the cow-loving hero we all thought he was! Now that that ruthless terrorist is behind bars, how did you come to find out Farmer Joe’s plot to build a giant magnifying glass that would melt all ice cream in the world?”
A reporter was standing outside of Farmer Bob’s farm, which was only a mile down the road from Joe’s farm (or 2 miles, depending on how far away from town the farm was today.) With him was Farmer Joe’s archenemy, Farmer Bob.

“Well, I was just dropping by Farmer Joe’s house for some tea, as the two of us were the best of friends. But then, I saw a blueprint on Joe’s desk. I asked him what it was for, and he said he wanted to melt all the ICE CREAM in the world! Then, he tied me up in his fireplace and said he was going to test his giant magnifying glass on me! Luckily, my chickens came to the rescue. Then, I called the government and told them all about Joe’s plot.”, said Farmer Joe.

“Wait! I just remembered! Farmer Joe said that all 19 billion of his cows were to be left to me! I’ve got his will here!” Farmer Joe produced a piece of paper from his coat and showed it to the camera.

All of my cows go to Farmer Bob, the paper read in Comic Sans.

“But Farmer Joe isn’t dead. He’s just in government custody”, the reporter told Farmer Bob.

“Look! Donald Trump! Riding a flying shark! Blowing up the Statue of Liberty!”, Farmer Bob shouted as he pointed up.

“Oh my God! Look!” the reporter shouted as the camera panned up to an empty sky as a crow flew by. “Oh wait, it’s gone”, she said as the camera returned to Farmer Bob, who held the “will” up to the camera. if im arestd al myyy stoof ges toe Famr Bob, the paper now read.

The reporter laughed. “Sorry, didn’t see that part! Hey, if any of you people at the government are watching this, and have Farmer Joe’s cows, send ‘em all right here to Farmer Bob’s farm!”

Williams flicked off the TV. “You’ve had enough TV. So, now you know what’s going on. Back to your cell. A plane will be here to take you to Washington tonight. In the meantime, we have some cows to deliver.

Farmer Joe was speechless with rage. First the government backstabs him, then they put him in prison, now Farmer Bob somehow convinces the world that he’s the rightful owner of his cows? How could nobody see his real plan?

Meanwhile, it was time for him to think of a plan of his own.