This Lone Bovine - 2 Days to Go

… a blog from the deep dark labyrinth of my soul

Today, a story.

Some astute readers have asked: ‘why, Minotaur, O why have you been consigned to the labyrinth?’ A fair question.

I’ve been reluctant to divulge the details because…well, my story is not for the feint of beefheart, gentle readers. For the longest time I bottled up my rage, keeping minobusiness minobusiness alone. But, the time has come to tell my tale. My therapistataur thinks it will do me good, and I think that the world should know my story. For those reasons, I will plunge bravely on. But, alack! It is…difficult.

You see, my father was a bull. Cretan the Sea Bull he was called, though I am told he preferred “Carl.” Carl was no ordinary bull, that much was plain. Gifted to King Minos by the the god Poseidon, Carl was immaculate, beautiful, and white – a divine bovine. The idea was, Minos get bull, Minos sacrifice bull, Poseidon happy. How sick is that? It’s like giving a boy a puppy and then telling him to throw it off a cliff or he’ll be grounded.

One day, Carl overheard two stablemen discussing his impending sacrifice and it hit him like a holy thunderbolt: he had days to live, and his legacy would consist of standing around for a few months then being stabbed. This was a depressing prospect for an ambitious ungulate, to say the least. And so, with nothing but his wits and looks, he hit upon the idea of escape. Seduction, he knew, was his only prospect for survival. So, when the queen came near he pranced and bellowed and flexed his rippling white body. He was a handsome bull, my father, it must be said. The queen resisted his wily charms as long as she could but eventually succumbed. My father was free.

Hoof in hand, they strolled down the street. Anyone who saw THOSE two walking around knew what was going on; she a young dreamer and he a glorious white bull. It was a little suspect, to say the least. Still, none dared to tell the king, and their love remained a secret. A very naughty, open secret.

Well, you know what they say about birds, bulls, and bees. From that union sprung…me.

Fast forward 5 years and all that’s left is a confused minokid with no true place in the world and a heartbroken woman whose bull-lover has gone in search of “greener pastures.” Getting by with a single mom and helping pay bills as a kid is rough, but going to school as an awkward big-head half-man is rougher.

Then, it happened. One day I was at the grocer when someone chanced to run over my hoof with their cart. I blacked out. I wake up later that night in this labyrinth with an attorneytaur telling me that I had annihilated a centaur’s supermarket in what can only be described as a furious and horrifying Minopocalpsye. Telling them I don’t remember doing it did NOT help my case and they told me to (and I quote) “Get comfortable, chump. You’re not galloping out of here anytime soon.” Which would have been cool if I actually galloped. Ever. In my life.

That’s basically it, friends. I’ve been patiently biding my time, seeing my great therapistaur and working through the anger. In my daily exercise to keep myself calm, I maintain a pleasant and hospitable labyrinth, read great books and magazines, and exercise. I am quite a skilled axe warrior, and I direct this discipline at staying focused. And BOY do I love fine china! It’s just so wonderful, the way it reflects the room around it. It’s so clean and beautiful, yet so fragile. I identify with it, really. So hopefully you understand my decision to open my own retail outlet so I can put this incredible stuff in your hands. I think it will be good for me, and besides…I’m a retail animal. All that time helping my mom at the textile shop really put some SELL SELL SELL chops on me! I’m so excited!

I’m getting giddy so enough of my rambling…it’s now three days to my release. See you soon in the sunshine!

Your friend,

The Minotaur