“Cows!” Brad yelled, breaking the silence. “Must be a hundred at least.”
“Dude, they’re like four,” his friend, Clayton, said in a bored tone.
“I’m estimating. That gives me 4,361 cattle.”
“That gives you five,” Clayton persisted. “And I have—what? Five.” He pointed to a lone bovine on his side of the car.
“Creative cattle counting. One is one—two is—” Brad tipped his head, closing one eye. “Fifty?”
“Then by that logic, my one cow is worth twenty-five.”
“No. One is one. Ask anybody. Isn’t one cow just one cow?” He appealed to the other six people in the station wagon.
“One is one—two is two,” Madison Reynolds pointed out. “But creative counting is accepted practice in Bury the Cows. He’s right, though, Brad. If two cows is worth fifty, one cow is twenty-five.”
“Fine. I concede that. But I’m still ahead.”
“You can’t count the billboard for the dairy, man. We discussed this.”
© 2017 Dellani Oakes