Milking A Dried Up Cow

A friend remarked, "The camp (Young Writers Camp 2007) deserves more than just a post about S.A.D."

I sneeze violently, give a cynical look, eat a rotten date, nearly choke, and fall towards murky, green water so murky you cant see the bottom. I hit the water.

Its achingly cold but the cold challenges me. I yearn to get out, but vow that I will stay inside and warm the pool for the next poor fool to jump in. I keep my promise. Staying in, believing in the vain hope of raising the water temperature by a degree.

It starts to rain and I jump out, run up to the hot shower and let my heroic, Homeric efforts wash away. I eat, laugh, play and vow to take on the pool tomorrow as I tumble dry into sleep.

I am a poor, poor farmer with only a dried up old cow. Around me are many rich farmers and I could live a great life if I worked for them. My old cow gives no milk. When I try to milk it, I only get kicks. When I do get milk, I spend it on food for my cow. Why I even try to milk it I don't know. I get nothing for trying. Whatever happened to that ripe young calf? What is this 50 year old abomination before me? I deny knowing it, I deny owning it, I deny everything.