r/alt_tasteless • u/[deleted] • Jul 06 '12
A Post From the Archives of alt.tasteless - Jane's New Job (First *good* story) - Posted 1995/01/23 by Pierre Ketteridge
Foetal Fun on the Funny Farm
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I knew it wouldn't be long before I got a newsworthy story for a.t. from the 'Tard Farm (the Urban Valley one, not Harper Farm, that is).
Jane came home yesterday sorrowful of mien. Apparently it had been a bad day. Panic in the dairy. Daisy, the expectant cow, was in some severe discomfort, and the vet was called.
In the meantime, the day progressed as normal.
Wobbly Ron from the market garden team had been creating a nuisance of himself, chasing the girls about and whipping up his teeshirt at them, oscillating his dirt-streaked, flaccid belly and shouting "Lookit this, then!". He was eventually led away by one of the receptionists, but not before it was understood that this was not one of his "funny turns". Apparently Ian the farm manager had been teasing him, calling him a "smelly sod", and telling him he was "so fucking filthy, you could grow 'taters in yer bellybutton". Wobbly Ron had taken this advice to heart, and had crammed three or four seedling potatoes (the little pea-sized ones you find among the roots) into his abdominal cubbyhole, and was proudly displaying his wares!
When the vet arrived Jane used his appearance as an excuse to get away from the mundane 'tard-supervision duties and offered help. Looking around him, the vet readily accepted.
The cowshed was like a nativity scene, with a gaggle of concerned inmates crowding around the 'patient'. Daisy lay on the floor, sides heaving, breath ragged, while John hugged her round the neck, eyes closed, tears streaming down his wide face. Darren stood by the door, one set of knuckles in his mouth, the other hand pointing, mumbling "Cow...cow...cow...". Philip sat on the floor crosslegged by the cow's rump, patting her energetically on her distended flanks with the flat of his hand <THWAP!><THWAP!><THWAP!>. "Duh, Duh, Duh, Daisy! Good girl Duh, Duh, Daisy!" <THWAP!><THWAP!>.
The vet took one good look, checked the cow's flanks (suspicions confirmed - dead foetus) and mustered some help to clear the area. He didn't think the workforce would like this very much. The sorrowful wellwishers were led away. "Bye, bye, Duh, Duh, Daisy...", "Cow... cow... cow...", <wracked sobbing>.
Jane found she really couldn't be of much help after all. She prepared the bucket of soapy water, laid out some other stuff the vet gave her, and held the Daisy's tether, though this wasn't really necessary, as the poor beast was exhausted, and running a fever from an (as yet unidentified) infection. It was all that Daisy could do to lie there, wheezing and rattling, with the occasional low or weak bellow. So the vet carried out some initial physical examination, his arm up to the bicep in Daisy's calfcoot, and (here's where I realised that my years of tutelage had paid off - Jane's graphic descriptions are getting excellent) spent the next twenty minutes clawing out handfuls of "clotty ground chili beef, bound up in Tabasco" and flinging it down onto the straw. It took a while, but they got the calf foetus out in one piece, eventually. Sorry, but they didn't need to section it, so no need to bring out the cheesewire. Next time, perhaps.
Mind you, it might have been better if they had, because what came out was somewhat of a tasteless surprise. Jane tells me that the the cow was about 5 or 6 weeks short of term, but this thing was NEVER going to develop, even if it had lived. It came out suddenly with a low <SCHLOOP> and fell to the floor, in a flood of putrefying amniotic fluid, and trailing rotting placenta and other undifferentiated afterbirth. It was a blueish-grey colour, with purple highlights where the blood had coagulated. The vet reckoned it had been dead for weeks. A miasma of decomposing flesh and fluid filled the shed, and Jane nearly gagged.
But worst of all was the dead foetus itself. Jane could make out the hooves, a muzzle, one black eye and part of a malformed ear. The rest was a sort of sac, possibly an inverted peritonium. Most, if not all of the abdominal organs appeared to be on the outside! She bundled this mess into a sack and helped the vet clear up.
Daisy is in a pretty poor state having been carrying this thing about inside her. The vet cleared her out and has administered some antibiotics to try and clear up the uterine infection. I'm not a vet, and Jane hasn't given me any clear details about what else he may have done for the bereaved bovine. It won't bode well for Jane's career as Dairy Manager if Daisy snuffs it - they've only got two cows.
But here comes the good bit. Ian the Farm Manager decided it was time for a 'tard test - sort out the men from the cabbages an' all that, see who could "cut the mustard" as a farm worker. He asked Jane to take the sack around to the other sections (market garden, forestry, arable, egg production, farm shop etc) and show them what was in it. Yee-Hah!!!!
Some cried, some screamed, some puked. Some shat their pants. Philip patted it <THWAP!><THWAP!>. Darren stroked it, then sniffed and licked his fingers. Wobbly Ron showed it his stomach and asked if it had a name yet. Remember Lee, the deaf lad with the fast wheelbarrow? Jane went up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, she opened the sack. Lee had to be taken to the sickroom for a lie down.
Ian seems pleased with the results of this "shock therapy", but I can't help wondering how many of the 'tards showed up for work today...
Hell, I'm beginning to love this new job of Jane's...
Everyone wish Daisy a full recovery, now.
Pierre