It is rare when a cow survives a tornado, but when it does, the cow becomes an incessant arrogant asshole. It’s true.

The storm moved in quickly and spread rapidly like pancreatic cancer on an unsuspecting soul. Raymond Harcourt shielded his eyes from the rain as best as he could, when he heard an eerie sound from above getting louder. It was a tornado cow, emphasis on was. It descended and splattered all over the parking lot.

It was only Raymond’s third day as a storm chaser and he had already witnessed this. He had to tell someone. He was giddy and had to share the experience with someone. He had to text his best friend, Carvin Wagner.

In retrospect, he shouldn’t have stopped; for he was immediately decapitated by a displaced roof of a cheap storage shed.