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** TUNNEL CATTLE **
** TUNNEL}{CATTLE **...tragically misunderstood cerebral bovines from the southwest American desert...but let us start at the beginning, if not for the sake of readers not familiar with these nomadic range-grazers, then for the sheer joy of the recounting of our lore...
The time: the mid-60s...the place: the Nevada rangeland...
A small herd of free-ranging cattle happened to be grazing right at ground zero of the above-ground test detonation site of a particularly dirty thermo-nuclear device...
In a flash, the ruminants were transmorgrified into extremely intelligent creatures with powers which we may only guess at...
Due to the massive doses of Gamma radiation which the unfortunate cows had received, they developed an acute sensitivity to exposure to the sun, the greatest nuclear reaction of them all, and, so, the ** TUNNEL**CATTLE ** engineered an elaborate network of labyrinthine caverns, and evolved rather quickly into nocturnes...
Young nuclear weapons test engineers would frequent local "dude" ranches on weekends to unwind from the rigors of nuclear weapon test engineering... the ** TUNNEL**CATTLE **, led by Doug, the strongest and smartest herd member, (Doug--spokesman for the herd consciousness--a sort of "Dairy Lama", if you will), would wait in the shadows just outside the light offered by the happily blazing campfires until a young nuclear weapons test engineer, disoriented with the dark and giddy with strong drink, would excuse himself to go water the cacti...
The engineer would be spirited away to a nearby tunnel, where he would be marked with the ** TUNNEL**CATTLE ** brand, a stylized "TC"...he would then be set free, some distance from the kidnap site...
Many young engineers did this happen to, and to a man did they feel such shame at their disfiguring marks that they dropped out of the scientific community and did grow their hair and beards long to cover the brands which the ** TUNNEL**CATTLE ** had inflicted upon their foreheads and cheeks...for months these young men wandered the desert of the southwestern United States, living only on the Peyote Cactus and Agave plants which they found...what with the hot, hot sun and the hallucinogenic effects of the Peyote and the soporific effects of the Agave, these lads were a fine babbling mess when they finally did come up against the mighty Pacific Ocean...in the city by the bay...San Francisco...in the run-down Filmore district...at the intersection of Haight and Asbury Streets, where the self-exiled nuclear engineers did live on the streets by their wits, and, also, did become most outspoken opponents of any and all applications of nuclear power...the first hippies!!!
YOU CAN'T STOP
YOU CAN'T STOP
YOU CAN'T STOP
YOU CAN'T STOP
I SAID "WHOA, BOYS!"
YOU JUST CAN'T STOP-
** TUNNEL**CATTLE **
...well, yes...badges...the old west...marks
of caste...brands...
** TUNNEL**CATTLE **
...and so it was in those dark days just after the transmorgrification that Doug
(you remember Doug? Supra-cerebral tragi-comic charismatic leader of the scruffy
band of mutant cows known as ** TUNNEL**CATTLE **) and the boys were cruzin' the
Robert Oppenheimer Parkway lookin' for some action...a Toad in a sharkskin suit
pulled alongside them at a stoplight...the light changed...and so did the **
TUNNEL**CATTLE **!!!
Oh, no! Radical mood swinging bovines on the loose on cruze nite!!
"Hey, Doug! What say we put the hooves to the Toad in the primered Cheeby, then we go gore some young nuclear weapons test engineers?"
"Nah. Let's us get some southern style pork B*B*Q!"
"Let's cruze to Vegas. If we hurry, we can crash the Sinatra act at the Sands..."
"Let's get a jug of Mad dog and a pint of Everclear and mix up a batch of 'Death Wishes'"
...well...this could be a long night out on the desert...but one thing's for certain...
YOU CAN'T STOP
YOU CAN'T STOP
YOU CAN'T STOP
YOU CAN'T STOP
I SAID "WHOA, BOYS!"
YOU JUST CAN'T STOP-
** TUNNEL**CATTLE **
...well, yes...there was to be a long, convoluted screed here dealing with the
** TUNNEL**CATTLE **, but I realize now that it may transcend the bounds of good
taste, so...
It's Poetry time!!!
...Doug and the boys (you remember Doug? The supra-cerebral, if slightly maniac-depressive, head of the herd, the spokesman for the herd conscience, the "Dairy Lama"?) were dabbling in some mediocre couplets, when one of the younger ruminants suggested a bit of astral projection to break up the monotony...
...and yes, yours truly, Space Duck was there...Doug, you see, is my confidant...
...well, the majority still conscious were somewhat bored, so the level of cerebral-spinal energy put forth in this astral projection gig was rather short of remarkable...
...we found ourselves, only slightly the worse for wear, somewhere in the outback of the land down under...
Oh, No!!
A classic case of Australian projection.
...we were trying to get our bearings, locate a source of fresh water, or better yet, a hamburger stand, when we found ourselves surrounded by a band of extremely menacing aboriginals...
"Psst! Doug, lemme do the talkin'."
"Whatever, Duck-head."
...one of the abbies, a particularly large and hairy brute known in the tribe as "Lance", stepped forward for a closer look...
"G'day, mate! Allow me ta introduce ourselves. Me, well, I'm Crocodile Duckee, an' the boys wit' me here, well, they're wotta buffla."
...The tribe began advancing ever-so-slowly towards us, when one of the youngsters in the herd slapped a cassette of Blue Oyster Cult's "Tyranny & Mutation" into his walkman...
...the aboriginals, never having heard heavy metal music before, nonetheless identified with the strong primal urges underscoring the more obvious vocal styling and stun guitars, and prostrated themselves before Doug...
...the tribe's shamin, sensing the threat to the mystical jive he had used to rise to his position, cast a spell which blew the bovine brotherhood clear to Perth Amboy, NJ...
...it was in the warehouse district of Perth Amboy that we first encountered Louie the Toad, a small time enforcer - who would lead us to those legendary enchantresses, the Truck Stop Waitresses from Far Rockaway, NJ...
...but that's another story, altogether...
...who are these ** TUNNEL**CATTLE **?
...where are they from?
...what do they want here?
...and, how do they tie in with the Diving Pig of The Internet?
** TUNNEL**CATTLE ** Spotter's Guide:
Know your ** TUNNEL**CATTLE **!
** TUNNEL**CATTLE ** are persistent!
Stated another way;
YOU CAN'T STOP
YOU CAN'T STOP
YOU CAN'T STOP
YOU CAN'T STOP
I SAID "WHOA, BOYS!"
YOU JUST CAN'T STOP
** TUNNEL**CATTLE **
by Robert Smulkowski
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