Bully For You (Best Of)

“How much would you take for that old bull there in your pasture?” asked the stranger.

I could tell that the trespasser currently standing in my bull field was an admirer of fine animal flesh. “Yes, Stanley is quite a piece of work isn’t he? A great breeding bull, if I may say so.”

“I wasn’t interested in him for breeding,” said the interloper.

“Well surely you don’t want him for eating?” I asked. “I imagine his meat would be tough and stringy.”

“No, no. I am an artist,” he said. “I dabble in bulls instead of oils.”

Now that he mentioned it I realized that this intruder was an artsy kind of a guy… pony tail, bare feet, earrings and all.

“I got started initially in dehydrated cow pies,” he explained. “I did quite well selling them as gag gifts back east. But I longed for more serious art.”

“I can certainly understand that. I don’t suppose there are too many cow pies in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. But I must admit that I am a little confused. If you don’t want Stanley for his breeding ability or his meat what could you possibly want him for?”

“His legs. I want to saw off his legs actually.”

“I’ll admit they’re great legs but wouldn’t that kill him?” I asked.

“Of course it would. You didn’t actually think I wanted that sway-back bag of bones to breed other animals did you, as if he were a sex slave or something? No, I want your bull purely for artistic purposes. I want to paint a nice Indian scene on his bleached skull. I want to stretch Stanley’s hide over a piece of plywood and then I’d nail his four legs to the board to make a table. They make absolutely delightful coffee tables and sell for $3,500 back east. A matching skull and table bring five grand in the finer department stores.”

Then the artist took one more look at Stanley and proceeded to get insulting. “You have to admit that Stanley would look more like a bull as a table than he does now. At least he’d have a straight back with a leg under every corner.”

“You’d kill Stanley just for his legs?” I asked the table taxidermist in disbelief.

“Oh, heavens no. I create art out of other anatomical parts as well.

Now I was getting real suspicious. “What other anatomical parts?”

“Oh, how should I say this?” the wierdo asked. “You see his, uh, central heating and cooling system there between his back legs. Well I make purses out of those. I call them “Bull Bags” and women use them as accessories to hold their personal belongings. They go well with evening wear when a woman wants to go out on the town.”

“You’ve got to be kidding?” I asked the pervert.

“I never make jokes about my art. I’ll have you know that my bull bags are bringing up to $750 and several movie stars are collecting them. I use other male reproductive parts as well. My newest line is a fine collection of golf putters at $2,000 a copy. I call them “Bully Clubs” and they are quite unique.”

I had a good idea what he made those out of! That did it. I refused to sell Stanley to the artist. Heck no, what kind of an idiot do you think I am? At $3,500 for his legs, $750 for his bag, $2,000 for his, well you know, and $1,500 for his skull, well that adds up to… Well, it’s more money than I paid for all five of my bulls put together.

Heck no I won’t sell Stanley. But you’ve given me an idea. When he dies I’m going to start my own mail order catalog company. I’ll call it “Bully For You.” I’ve got a couple creative ideas of my own you know?”

Besides, Stanley never did like golf that much anyway.