Craque Foirfleurbaquer told me not to, so of course I did it anyway. I'm sorry but I can't take someone with a name like that seriously. Especially when he's mumbling about assassins and the need for a hollowed out mountain den and all that other crazy nonsense that's only found in bad spy movies.
He told me the puff pastry wasn't ready yet, but I didn't care. I had been watching him make it for a whole 45 minutes, the way he handled it like a small delicate bird while he dumped two pounds of cocoa powder onto it. He was taking forever. Do you know how long that is when you're suddenly reverted to the age of four? It's a goddamn lifetime and it was snack-time. He warned, he threatened, he swelled up like a red rhinoceros and bellowed about the dangers of eating uncooked eggs, but I didn't listen. I couldn't wait. I can't handle mystery. I never could. So I flared my nostrils, hit him with my telekinetic stun ray (which only lasts .392 seconds. I need an upgrade.), and popped it down the ol' hatch before there was a thing he could do about it. All in all, he took it very well. I wasn't expecting it to shrink down to the size of a pill when I swallowed it though. Maybe that was the problem with it, it wasn't filling.
I think I was supposed to help him make it, but I was reverted to the age of four. It was his fault. He gave me a Shirley Temple and my adult self was overrun by grenadine, carbonation, and unfathomable energy. He said he didn't think the pastry was appropriate for children. Apparently it's supposed to cause "hallucinations" and take you to a happy, magical world. I told him that I thought that it was therefore exactly for children, because children love magic. Children do not, however, love mushrooms which is why I suppose he used so much chocolate and had to make it shrink to the point where it would be easily swallow-able. Still, I was hungry so I went outside to find myself a nice patch of grass.
You have to understand, I had suddenly been put into the mind of a cow. It's the sort of thing that happens when you were raised by hippies in either Wisconsin or Texas. You become a little too one with the land. Your real body just stands there looking very pensive indeed while your mind goes to commune with your bovine brethren.
As a cow my life was different. My cares melted away. I was only concerned about staying upright. The one with the best posture attracts the biggest bull, you know. I never knew grass was so delicious, and as of today I have decided to work it into my diet permanently. I don't know why the dog eats it and then throws it up. Wasteful little prick...
Chew. Stand. Chew. Repeat. ... Nevermind. Boring. I took my mind back. I told Bessie she'd have to fend for herself.
I really don't know how to describe what happened next, as it's still a bit hazy. I went out of the cow and suddenly I was in the air. This was not what I wanted to have happen. I wanted to go to the ground. I am terrified of heights. Terrified beyond terror. I always imagine falling and breaking a vital part of my body, like the third leg I had surgically installed (must get better than 7 minute mile!). I remember wondering if there was anyone who could save me, or help me. Someone like NASA, the Air Force, Superman, or Chuck Norris. Sadly, I think they're all dead. I think they were all tragically killed in that horrible Reverse-Robin-Hood-ism movement known as the infamous "Tax Cut" that swept across the United States, decapitating the poor, eating trillions of babies, sucking the souls out of all things good, righteous, and edible and then giving all the money from the brutal harvest to those evil rich sons of bitches that should've been ran out of this country on a rail years ago! At least, that's what I heard from muhnipul8a. *shrug*
I fell into despair. I didn't know what to do. The earth was being pulled away from me as if a giant purple elephant had sneezed it out of orbit, and now it was careening wildly into outer space. I watched the farms fall into green patchwork. The cities glistened, waving goodbye.
I didn't want to leave, and it was getting cold. I remember shouting down at all of humanity, asking whether I should hold my breath or not. As I understand, there's not much oxygen in outer space. I think muhnipul8a told me that too. Smart guy, that. I don't think he's ever been a cow.
Suddenly, I hit something hard and metallic and it made a loud resounding THWUNKNNGGG. I hit a satellite! Dave Matthews had saved me! Dave, you are my immortal hero.
I never realized that satellites were so large. I began crawling around the edges, trying to find a way in because satellites are also shiny and when the sun hits those metallic sides without any atmosphere to calm down the rays... well it's bright. I think I got retinal surgery up there. Maybe I can ditch these reading glasses now. I hate reading glasses. I love hatches though, and I found one.
I also never knew that satellites were so spacious. I didn't even have to crawl in, and if gravity existed in space I could have stood comfortably inside - third leg and all. The fine silk on the interior was a really lovely texture too. I remember seeing glowing buttons on the left wall, and I was thinking about sending a distress call to NASA, the Air Force, Superman, or Chuck Norris... just in case they survived the "Tax Cut", but I figured Dave Matthews probably already had anyway.
After I got settled in, I began wondering what time it was. It's easy to lose track of time when you're a cow. They have no concept of time. You can lose days without even realizing it. Luckily, my watch glows in the dark. Unluckily for me, I found out that it was almost dinner time. I was starving, because that pastry was worthless. Man, how I hoped we could have Mac'n'Cheese. I was feeling about 8 years old by this point, and I love Kraft food products.
I began thinking of how I was going to get home. I thought about swimming back into the atmosphere, but if gravity had started to work again that would've been messy. I went over to the glowing buttons, to see if I could steer the satellite back home but they weren't controls. It was just a vending machine. I began to pace, to try to figure out how I could get back home when my third leg fell down a tube slide! Don't worry, it didn't fall off, silly. I had it surgically attached, so it's not that easily removable. Anyway, I figured I'd give the slide a shot.
You have to understand, I don't normally think things through. About a minute into my slow, friction-y descent I realized that this slide could lead anywhere, like a furnace or a torture chamber or a water park. I was hoping for the last one, but I still really wanted it to just drop me off in my kitchen, where I'd find Craque Foirfleurbaquer making Mac'n'Cheese. Kraft food products, yum omg.
Suddenly it stopped. I was done moving but I hit my head at the end of the slide. I couldn't be sure what I hit it on, because it was still so dark. I sensed that I was underground. I don't know how, but I just knew. The walls didn't feel like dirt though, and the ceiling was actually made of this soft, down-filled material. If I could... just... give it... a good... yank.
And then I was back here! And I figured I should write it all down because a day like this should be remembered. Hold on, I think someone is calling me.
"Good afternoon, Sir. Did you have a nice nap?"
"Craque Foirfleurbaquer! It's so good to see you!
"My name is Dick, Sir. You know this."
"Well anyway, can we have macaroni and cheese? I've just been on the craziest adventure and I'm hungry I mean I was in a cow and then I went to outer space and..."
"Just eat this pastry, Mr. President. You have to address the nation tomorrow. We've got to get you in the proper state of mind."