Your aspect has two cows

theworstpersonintheworld:

Well, this isn’t the “title test” I was talking about before, but it’s about time I posted something, probably.

Space: There are two cows. You frolick with them in the wilderness. The three of you find the most fascinating plants and butterflies. Soon there will be a baby cow!

Time: You have two cows. In 150 years, nobody will remember who you were or how many cows you had. Not even your great-grandchildren. That’s just the way things are.

Rage: You are hiding under your kitchen table from a thing with horns and cloven hooves. It can only be a demon. Pure horror pulses through your veins when you realize there’s more than one.

Hope: You have two cows. If you took their barn apart, you’d have enough wood to build a ship. If your ship was on the coast, you could take it sailing. If you went sailing, there might be pirates. You’d better practice swordfighting.

Mind: You have two cows. The fluffy cow doesn’t know you know she knows the spotted cow suspects the fluffy cow heard the spotted cow confiding in you what she thought she overheard the fluffy cow pretended to mutter in her sleep. Just as planned.

Heart: You have two cows. You can tell them apart at a distance by how they moo. You’re not supposed to give them names. You do it anyway.

Blood: You have two enormous bulls. They fight to the death. You butcher the loser and set your house on fire to cook some hamburgers. You are screaming the entire time.

Breath: You have two cows. The chickens recruit one of them to be an umpire for their baseball game. The other goes into stand-up comedy telling really cheesy puns. You learn how to whistle.

Light: You’ve been asked to run a three million acre dairy farm in France. You’re a world-class cheese taster and helicopter pilot with a PhD in chemical engineering. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

Void: You have two huge, awkward beasts of burden with multiple stomachs and overproductive mammary glands. They poop absolutely everywhere.

Life: You have two cows. You herd them into the barn for the night, eat some macaroni and cheese, and watch TV before bed – the same thing you do every day.

Doom: You try desperately to explain to your cows that none of this is real and you need to leave the farm before this story ends and the three of you cease to exist. They don’t understand a word. It’s too late now anyway.