Clem was sitting there watching the news. They were talking about Mad Cow Disease and the effects on the American beef industry. Clem only understood about half of it, which was par for the course. His wife, Marietta, was knitting a quilt that started as a sweater for Clem until she realized that Clem didn’t weigh 900 pounds.

“Marietta, this mad cow thing. I wonder if that had anything to do the problem I had with Lucifer. He sure did act awful funny that day”.

“No, Clem, the problem you had with Lucifer were too much drinkin’. The Reverend Mr. Small told you that”.

“No, not that Lucifer. Our Lucifer. The one what gored me”.

“Clem, that weren’t no cow. That were a bull”.

“Can’t bulls get Mad Cow disease?”

“I don’t ‘xactly know. What I do know is that Lucifer didn’t gore you cause he had no disease. He gored you cause you was teasin’ ‘im”.

“Well, maybe this here Mad Cow disease took his sense a humor away from him”.

“Don’t think so, Clem. First all, he didn’t have no sense a humor to start with. He was a mean one right from the start. Second off, you snappin’ them shears at ‘im is what set him off. How’d you like it if I snapped a set of shears at you. That weren’t no dummy you was doin’ that to”.

“Well, shoot. He done knew I’d already clipped him. Can’t clip him twice. How smart you got to be to know that?”

“How smart you got to be not wave a set a shears around?”

“Well, it coulda been this Mad Cow thing they’s all talking ‘bout”.

“Clem, you ain’t never been the tallest stalk in the cornfield but you gotta figure this one ”.

“What?”.

“Lucifer weren’t no cow. He were a bull.”

“Bulls don’t get this Mad Cow disease.”

“Don’t know. I do know that Lucifer got his payback”.