Who let the cows out?

Moo, moo moo?

Ahem. My imagination plays funny tricks on me.

                                      



                            



                                      

                                                                     

And this is why I try to keep my day-dreaming restrained when I let my running, idiotic happy cows out. 

Because seriously, they are freaky. 

 That is all for now. 

I'm starving.

I made Daddy toast with butter because I am awesome and it smelled so good it was torturous.

Almost as torturous as my picture of demon cows.

In my defense, Reginald doesn't know how to Moo.

He growls.

It's terrifying.

So maybe my imaginings are justified. 

Maybe.

Love, The Paina.