Kitty Wittgenstein and the Sinister Society of Southpaws (4.9)

4.9 In The Heat Of Cattle

(note: to go to the beginning of the story, go here, to see all Chapter Four posts, go here and to see all Sinister Society of Southpaws posts, go here)


Why was there a bull here? I thought the rodeo was only going to feature celebrities riding horses. I remember specifically looking into that point before I’d signed on.

I’d also been assured that all the animals would be treated with the utmost care. In fact, I’d been promised a detailed tour of all the facilities where the organisers would prove this. I could only assume this tour had taken place in the last two days. The two days that had been replaced by the memory of the version of me that had blown up.

I was becoming unsure of which of these two versions was me. Was I the Kitty who up until a couple of days ago had been preparing for a charity rodeo? Or was I the Kitty who, over the last two days, had faced down both high tech battle suited soldiers and vampires before being betrayed by one of my best friends and exploding?

Or was I both?

Still, no time for existential issues. Not with a rapidly encroaching battle suited assailant behind me and a, uh, raging bull in front of me.

At least we were vampire-free.

“Time to take a leaf from the Spaniards, methinks,” said Orlando.

As usual, he was right. I removed my jacket and waved it in front of the bull as a makeshift muleta.

He charged.

Like all sane people, I wholeheartedly condemn bull-fighting. The ‘cultural tradition’ argument is a ridiculously weak one when compared to the suffering of an innocent bovine.

Having said that, there’s no doubt that standing one’s ground until the last possible moment as an enormous bull charges towards you takes an enormous amount of courage.

Me? I wasn’t so brave. I leapt out of the way well before he got close. Orlando followed my lead.

Probably a little too early, if one was going to be critical. The bull still had time to change course and continue towards us.

Fortunately for us, our battle suit speedster didn’t seem quite so manoeuvrable. He collided straight into the side of the bull and tumbled back to the ground.

Fortunately for him, he had enough kinetic energy to knock the bull off its feet also.

I pulled Orlando towards the stables. It was time to get out of here.

We only had a few seconds before the battle suit guy or the bull regained their feet and continued their pursuit.

I looked back.

Both were up.

We didn’t even have a few seconds.

I faced front again, put my head down and ran.

“Go, go, go!” I said.

We burst into the stables.

One last glance back saw the battle suit speedster moving back into top gear. He raced straight past the bull and toward us.

I found one of the saddled up horses and leapt atop. This one would do.

“Horse-riding, kemo sabe?” said Orlando, jumping on behind me. He placed his arms around my waist and squeezed a little tighter than I might have expected. “Is this really wise?”

“Heigh ho, Silver,” I said.

And never mind that the horse beneath us was of a chestnut hue.

Just so long as he wasn’t one of the bucking ones.

(to be continued)