Peak hour traffic halted, and vehicles were banked-up for miles. Helicopters hovered. Emergency vehicle lights flashed. Horrified road crew workers ran for their lives.
A meeting was called with the city’s Departmental heads, and they soon released a media statement urging all residents:
Please remain calm.
Those trapped inside their vehicles please lock their doors.
All canines are to be secured.
Please stay off the streets until the situation has been contained.
Pandemonium and panic arose from …
LIVESTOCK—FREE IN THE CITY
Scattered walking sides of beef had missed their boat and pounded the pavement on a no-rush-rampage in the city. They gawked through glass windows where humans were trapped inside their vehicles. This herd of hefty heifers squeezed between cued cars, sideswiped mirrors with grain-fed (now free-range) rumps. Doors were dented by dancing hoofs and a red car’s grill got stabbed by a set of horns, killing the stereo.
Leaning against the bar were the usual suspects. Red-dust covered their jeans, their sweat-stained wide-brimmed hats shaded leathered complexions, as their scuffed boots leaned on the lower rail. Beer glasses cradled in their working-man’s-hands, the men watched the televised drama unfolding.
‘Are you mob doin’ a road trip, shortly?’ She asked, working behind the bar.
Ol’ mate grinned, giving a conspirator’s wink. ‘Let ‘em high paid experts have conversations on co-ordinatin’ them coffee-carriers into catchin’ ’em first. Let’s have another beer luv, an’ enjoy the show.’
For many days the media traffic reports on the radio included regular Rogue-Cattle-sightings of beef bludging on council lawns.
But, as part of Operation Steakout, numbers are dwindling… their barbecue has never been busier.
Based on a true story
First published 06/9/2015
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