Pop!

Geisteskrank sprinkled shredded grass into the aquarium. "Have you never heard of hybrid vigor? Everyone knows that you can revive a flagging bloodline by introducing new stock."

"I think that's usually with something a little closer," said Bartlett. "Remind me again how this is better than the gerbil-cobras?"

"Gerbils, while sufficiently adorable, were a sub-optimal base. High-strung. These," Geisteskrank gestured, "are inherently useful. Fugu, of course, is eminently popular in Japan, and beef has long been a staple meat."

"And therefore?"

Geisteskrank clapped sharply, and water sloshed onto the floor as black-and-white flesh pressed taut against the glass. "Puffer Holsteins."

Not in Kansas

We count time by the cow. It calls out when it flies by our window. Jack counted his heartbeats once and we worked out it was about an hour between passes. The cow probably needs to be milked. I tried that once, went out in the vortex with my pail, but the winds snatched it away. Have to be careful not to drift into the eye, or you’ll fall back down to the ground.

It’s been a few hundred cows since the tornado picked us up. I wonder if we’ll ever land. I wonder where we’ll be when we do.