The AdrenaMoo Saga
This is the story of Frankie, a man of ambition and audacity, a dreamer with ideas that often teeter on the edge of insanity.
In his small town, Frankie is known as the guy who can turn even the most absurd notions into an elaborate business venture—often to the disbelief of everyone around him.
His latest venture? A scheme to cash in on the rumored value of adrenaline-charged cattle.
The plan was as unorthodox as it was outrageous: don a cow costume, infiltrate the herd, and rile them up with the finesse of a bovine outlaw. Once the cows were sufficiently stressed, Frankie would harvest their adrenaline using a contraption of his own design—a repurposed Dyson vacuum rigged with, of all things, a Fleshlight, which he insisted was for “sanitary storage.”
To Frankie, it wasn’t madness. It was innovation. To everyone else, it was something you couldn’t unhear.
Phase 1: The Boss Arrives
Dressed head-to-hoof in a cow suit, Frankie stomped into the pasture with all the swagger of a mob boss taking over the neighborhood. His plan? Total intimidation.The herd stopped chewing as Frankie began his routine. He loomed over them, pacing with slow, deliberate steps. Every few minutes, he’d kick up dirt, stomp a hoof, or fake charge a nearby cow, his costume’s tail swinging dramatically behind him.
The cows shuffled nervously. Frankie didn’t need them running, just rattled enough to get their adrenaline pumping. By mid-afternoon, the herd was huddled together, tense and uneasy. Perfect.
Phase 2: The Heist
Frankie chose his target: Daisy, the most jittery of the bunch. She was practically shaking, and Frankie figured she was an adrenaline goldmine.He pulled out his tools: a utility knife, his Dyson vacuum (pre-cleaned, of course), and his “adrenaline containment device”—a Fleshlight he swore was for “sanitation.”
With precision he thought was surgeon-like, Frankie made a quick incision on Daisy’s neck, just enough to tap the adrenaline-rich blood flow. Then he powered up the Dyson. The vacuum roared to life, suctioning the blood directly into the canister.
The sound sent the other cows into a frenzy. Frankie grinned. “That’s tomorrow prepped,” he muttered under his breath, admiring his efficient system.
Once the Dyson was full, Frankie carefully transferred the blood into the Fleshlight. “Gotta keep the product clean” he thought to himself, as though he were running a legitimate pharmaceutical operation.
Phase 3: Mission Accomplished
By the time the sun set, Frankie stood in the barn, admiring his work. The herd was still rattled but alive—no sense in depleting his future stock.He set the Fleshlight-turned-adrenaline-storage-device on a shelf and nodded. “Easy money.”
Out in the pasture, the cows were huddled in silence. They didn’t need to moo to each other to know they’d had enough. Tomorrow, Frankie wouldn’t be so lucky.
Frankie might’ve succeeded today, but the herd had plans. When you mess with the Moofia, you can expect a visit from their stamp-over man.