The last two hours of my life were the best, better even that day in the field when I poked Daisy-Lou the idiot cow. I ran cuz I was at the slaughterhouse on a slow-moving line. I saw an opening and BOOM, I went for it. Thundered down the streets of Queens with flat footed, wheezing guys in pursuit. They yelled. They shot at me, but, I kept going, causing all manner of ruckus. I plowed into a bus. A blur of three-year old screaming kids scattered.

Now, that’s what it means to be a bull.