126.
   Slowly, silently we rowed our way through the comatose cows as they bobbed blissfully in the quiet sea. I never I imagined anything could smell so bad. It was essence of sour puke. It was the sweet putrescence of rotting corpses. It was a metallic, chemical poison that went for our throats. They were gathered together in ignorant oblivion blind to their naked prurience, lost in their own world of power they thought they held, of fate they thought they controlled. It took all my strength to steady myself against the waves of nausea that pounded at me as I pulled on an oar. The dogs flattened their ears and snarled without a sound.

   Conrad’s eyes squinted and his nose crinkled. His ears fluttered and twitched. He looked over at me and nodded reassuringly as he pulled the other oar. We rowed gingerly, delicately but we couldn’t help brushing against the flanks of the buffoons. I reached out and touched one of the white walls of flesh. A clear slime full of sandy pebbles, sharp twig like objects and brown smears stuck to my fingers. We ducked our heads into our shoulders to try and protect our ears from the roaring snores and rumbling flatulence. The stench of rancid breath and foul methane hung in the air like wet laundry on a line. Every once in a while, one of them would roll on its side wearing a self -satisfied smile on its face. One loosed a thunderous belch. I almost passed out. The dogs dove to the bottom of the boat whimpering.
   After a tortuous eternity, we cleared the bobbing parasites. I got hold of myself and pulled the compass the captain had given me out of my pocket. While I was plotting our course, a squeal shattered the stillness.