Castrating Bulls

We stopped to ask if the rancher and his son would talk to us about why they were not wearing masks.

The rancher nodded, okay.

It can get uncomfortable. You have to nod and watch the eye contact (so as not to overwhelm) to get past the barriers.

Obviously, a father and son. The dad explained that masks were not necessary if you were a real man and not a pussy and did we know anything about pussy.

We laughed.

You have to turn it to humor or you get pushed aside even when the joke is definitely not funny. I never know what they’re looking for, but when they ask if we were faggots, the person who is being interviewed will interject this so as to mark his territory with urine.

The kid never said a word.

What we got was a rant about faggots who wore masks and had little dicks.

He went back to castrating animals. I did not much like the knife.

The son shot a look. A look we were used to getting in this part of America.

It just said – I’m not like him.

Castration cuts two ways times ten.