The Headless Americans

When I got my drivers' license, one of my chores was to deliver dogs across Minnesota and parts of Canada for my dog-training dad. He had a friend outside of Winnipeg who lived on a dairy farm with whom he frequently traded dogs. This friend had children similar to our ages and we loved going up there. It was on this farm that I learned where cow's milk came from. (SPOILER ALERT: It's from cows.)

Anyway, on one particular delivery Kasey and I decided to make a little vacation of out it and stay a couple of nights. One night, one of their boys wanted to take us on a four-wheeler ride.

Marko hopped on one four-wheeler and Kasey and I hopped on the other, with me driving. Off we went, into the Canadian Nothing. Past the dairy cows, past the fields, and into the woods. Since we had just turned 14 and 16 and we were stupid teenage girls, we didn't pack for a trip to a farm -- we packed for a trip to visit boys on a farm. So we were wearing our new cute matching GAP outfits. Oh my goodness, they were so cute. Pastel short-shorts with striped button-down sleeveless shirts and matching striped pastel Keds. (It was 1993 after all.)

We ended up at a huge mud patch and Marko SPRAYED us with mud. We were supposed to SPRAY him back, apparently. But I was so focused on the ruining of my new outfit I just sort of didn't SPRAY him back. I shrugged my shoulders at him, like, 'What? Come ON. New outfit!' and then I think Marko felt bad and we started heading back to the farm. What a bust. Poor Marko. 

On the way back I felt so bad for being such a stick in the mud (pun intended), that I started racing Marko down the path. We were going back a way we hadn't come and it was a perfect stretch to race. We raced and raced and laughed and laughed and then suddenly we were winning!

Marko was left in the dust and Kasey and I were hootin' and hollerin' like a couple of city girls who just showed up the farm boy.

Kasey was wondering how far in the lead we were so she turned around to look. Marko was a hundred yards back, stopped, waving his arms and acting like a darn fool. Kasey poked me in the shoulder and I turned around. It seemed like he wanted us to stop? So I stopped.

Marko caught up to us frantically. Not ten feet in front of our faces was an electric cow wire, hung neck-high.

"Hey? Uh, Hal? Yah, your daughters are dead, eh?"