Geno Part II, The Beginning

As Geno stories go, this one is rather mild. But that's the safest way to introduce Geno. A starter story, if you will.

Here is Geno with his new Billy Bob teeth imitating the guy who sells the Kentucky bird dogs. He always wanted to be a country boy.

I grew up on a ranch. We had cattle and horses. I had to feed these animals every day. They eat a lot. Carrying their feed bowls is not like feeding a dog. Did I mention they eat a lot. I would be worn out after every meal. But this kind of close interaction with large animals teaches you to show them respect. Especially the bull. A lot of respect. Respect out the wazoo.

Geno was a city boy. But he wore cowboy boots. That apparently made him a cow expert, or so he seemed to think.

Geno wanted to go to the barn with me while I fed the animals. He'd seen them on TV he says, nothing to them. I think you can imagine the look on my face. "Geno" I say, "stay away from the bull. Don't upset him, he's NOT a TV bull." No problem says Geno. Why does it always turn into a large problem when Geno says 'no problem'. But again I tell him, "Leave the bull alone, this one has no sense of humor", and half of that statement could be applied to Geno at times (no sense).

So anyway, and don't ask me why I didn't expect it, Geno decides to play Bull Fighter. No Geno, don't. That's a really bad idea. Too late though, nothing stops Matador Geno.
Well, if his mission was to piss off that bull, then mission accomplished. I stood in the pasture watching not out of curiosity, but frozen in fear. Not Geno, no sir. He's egging the bull on. I'm trying to calculate which is closer, the barn or the fence. Neither looks close enough. Good timing Geno, he caught me in the middle of the pasture.. We are not getting out of this one. Here comes Mr. Bull, fast. And when a bull that big is going that fast, you call him Mister. Well, fortunately, the bull took my argument that Geno did it, not me. Did I mention Geno can run? Really fast? But he's heading for the barn and the doors are closed. Bad call Geno. Turns out I spoke too soon. In one swift motion, with Mr. Bull inches from his butt, Geno jumps, flys and grabs the edge of the barn roof with his fingertips. And in what can only be described as an act from The Flying Wallendas, he turns into a gymnast and plants his feet on the barn's roof. I was impressed. Wish I could do that. For about three seconds. That's when the bull decided that if he can't reach Geno, then I'll have to do. This bull was an equal opportunity mauler.
Go legs go, was the only thought I had. Mr. Bull was gaining fast and the fence looked so small from this distance. Never gonna make it I thought. Thanks Geno (a phrase I'd be repeating many, many, many times). This was at a time when I was first realizing that Geno will start the trouble and vanish leaving you in charge of 'damage control'.

It was at that moment I understood why my father had placed steel cages at strategic locations around the pasture. And one was close. I dove in with nanoseconds to spare and became one hell of a source of entertainment. I spent the next twenty minutes going between reasoning with the bull that I indeed had done nothing and inviting Geno to go and have sex with himself. He looked a lot more comfortable up on that roof than I, the human soccer ball, felt.

Later, Geno asked me why I didn't follow him. Superman himself couldn't follow Geno. Why didn't I this or why didn't I that. Why didn't YOU leave the bull alone. But Geno can't leave the bull alone. He can't leave anything alone. And when asked why, he will say, "I didn't get hurt". Of course not, you're Geno.

And Geno, if you try to refute any part of this story, I'll call Ed.