Salem Sue

Before going to bed last night, I read about Salem Sue, the world's largest dairy cow. Salem Sue resides in New Salem, North Dakota, and stands 40 feet tall. That's right, an absolute monster of a cow taller than a telephone pole at the shoulder and God knows how long. It goes without saying that sleep was impossible, as whenever I closed my eyes, I was terrorized with visions of this unholy demon of the plains, wreaking havoc on the poor townsfolk, setting things on fire, plundering their goods, and harassing their livestock.

Unfortunately, between where I was staying in Bismarck, ND, and where I was going, T.R. National Park, was New Salem. There was no way around it; I either had to risk certain death at the jaws of Salem Sue, or give up on my trip and head back home, defeated, with my head hanging in shameful cowardice.

At sunrise, the lack of sleep gave me a certain perverse bravery, and I set off toward the town of New Salem. It was about fifty miles away, so I had time to ponder my fate. Was Salem Sue the type to kill quickly and with mercy, perhaps decapitating me with her evil cud-chewing molars? Or was she truly evil incarnate, the type who would trample my limbs with her massive cloven hooves and keep me suffering, yet clinging to life, only to have her way with me later? Or worse?

Finally I saw the sign; the horrible sign that filled me with more dread than if I were staring down the cavernous, toothsome maw of a hungry great white vampire shark. "Salem Sue, next exit!" With trembling hands, I rolled up my windows, turned up my car stereo, and accelerated. My only hope was that the beast was already preoccupied, sacking the desperate town of New Salem for the umpteenth time, and while I might be able to drive through and escape with my life, I did not want to hear the pleas and screams of the innocent as passed them.

And then I saw it! Egad, what a monster. I was still a mile away, but she stood on the hillside like a statue, watching me approach. I knew I was doomed. In vain, I searched for a way to turn around, but there was no U-Turn available on the highway. I resigned myself to my fate. I've had a good life, and these past days of traveling have been nothing short of fantastic. I was prepared to meet my maker, even if it was in the belly of a diabolical flesh-eating giant cow.

But as I kept getting closer, something strange happened. Salem Sue did not seem interested in me. In fact, Salem Sue didn't move at all. She stayed perfectly still, staring off at the traffic heading westbound on I-94. "Surely something is wrong," I thought. The day before, I had learned that a full-grown buffalo eats 35 pounds of grass every day, so, certainly a killing machine the size of Salem Sue must require a constant intake of food just to remain conscious. But no, she just stood there, like a sculpture. I didn't understand it, but I considered myself blessed and drove right on by. But I don't know what to think now. The more I think about it, the less I am sure that she's even a real cow. Probably just some dumb statue.

Is it real or fake? You decide.