cDc communications presents... _ _ ((___)) [ x x ] xXx \ / xXx (` ') (U) T H E P R O P H E C Y O F C O W ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Recorded by High Priest and Scribe, Franken Gibe _______________________________________________________________________________ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Listen! The thunderhead of The Coming reins her fierce lightning steeds. The Prophecy is thine own. Take to heart what shall be, when nations' eyes shall turn toward Cow, a hundred million eyes fixed, a hundred million ears shrinking from the infernal Blast. Moonlight's world shall fall to decay, putrid with the rot of complacency. A chosen few shall safeguard the Cow Song, harbor all that is eternal against the blight of relativism, the self-indulgence of apathetic humankind. It is the course of the Bovine that these few shall multiply, and their message shall take the form of a federation, a Cult. Cow shall be a living memory. From three shall be ten, from ten, hundreds. Here the Prophecy begins... * * * Thrice sun's setting, then dawn. I see an eighth day, russet heat. It is the dawn of suburbia, mown fresh and green, black-cored and sinister. From this day night shall ever be vanquished. It is the Day of Cow. The Day of the Rebirth. Unspeakable visions I see, visions of color and sound, hoof beat and udder's fecund milk. Two of the Bovine Legion shall rule the eternal Day, two shall survive the death of Night. On that first dawn of the New Age, the birthday of the new order, Cow will come again. In the barren field of the barren age, the Old Age, in the field of corpses and skulls, I see a Prophet. He shall be versed in the saga of Cow, familiar in the Ways of Bovinia. And lo, the crimson field shudders beneath the taint of a thousand crumbling empires, kingdoms of corruption, and the barren field vomits steaming geysers of blood. In the midst of this maelstrom of death, the climax of centuries of despair, I see the Prophet raise his limber arms, and as if orchestrating Second Creation, the field is quieted, the skies churn slow and calm. Oh, unspeakable and ineffable! Oh, prophecy and legend, Earth has shed tears of blood, seas of blood for thee. Lo, the Prophet of the field drops to his knees, & behold, the fallow field is rent asunder. And from the awful rift emerges a deep, deep tenor, a staccato bellow which strikes deaf the unprepared ear. It is the Bellow of the Cow Reborn, the trumpet of victory which heralds in the New Age, the Age of the Bovine. This is the Legend, this is the Prophecy marvelous and momentous. Emotion chokes words, and begs of them undue function. Yet have I endeavored to write what should remain unwritten, to prophesy that which is the stuff of nightmares. Humanity, beware! For now Cow sleeps, but dawn approaches. The Awakening is near. _______________________________________________________________________________ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (c)1988 cDc communications by Franken Gibe On this, the 13th Day of the Sixth Month-56