Cow Juice
by Marcy Dermansky
Theresa stopped speaking to me because I ate cows. This made things simple. There was no conversation. Our parents had gone to Hawaii for the month of July and left me in charge of the house. It's hard to say what was going on with me and all the meat I was consuming. Meat. I couldn't eat enough cow. Maybe it's because I'd been so screwed up about food for so long. It was a combination of the anorexia, bulimia, the spiritual fasting, and those intense chocolate highs. Anyway, it had been forever since I'd eaten meat, since I had actually chewed, and suddenly I had a new boyfriend, Jordan Stopman, the plumber who came to the house one rainy afternoon to fix our clogged toilet. Jordan called me skinny as if skinny was a bad thing; he took me to a McDonalds and bought me a quarter pounder with cheese. "Trust the cow," he said. Wow. When was the last time I had a hamburger? Wow. Oh wow. "This is so good," I said. I felt like dancing. "Oh My God." Jordan grinned at me. "Your parents have an excellent grill," he said. It was a gas grill, the best model you can buy at the Super K-mart. I thought I had reached nirvana with my Mickey Dee's, and then Jordan grilled me an enormous burger. This was before he introduced me to steak. Theresa, my little sister, is a principled girl. She has to be. She wears great big glasses and has these heavy braces. Somewhere beneath all that equipment is a girl with a face, but you can't find it, because she talks and she talks, most of it about global warming and the cows. What a waste of the earth's resources to grow cows for consumption. We should be farming alfalfa. Poor people all over the world that nobody cares about, the grains we should be feeding them, and why a vegetarian diet is best.
I'm getting it all wrong, of course, because I never actually listen to Theresa. For years and years, what did I think about? Being skinnier and skinnier still. Now it's Jordan, sex, and meat.
Jordan is fine, but that night we grilled t-bone steaks. Oh. You could hear the juices popping. Theresa glared at me from the lit kitchen. Jordan rubbed a piece of glistening steak fat on my collar bone and without thinking, I pulled my green ribbed tank top right over my head. I could see Theresa's cold glare from that bright kitchen as Jordan licked that delicious cow juice from my breasts. Then the light went out in the kitchen.
This is a great one. I remember we did this exercise together -- perhaps "write something about cows" was all it was? I made a silly flash movie out of mine (ooh, multimedia!), published in Drunken Boat (http://www.drunkenboat.com/db3/fauth/cows.html). Yours ended up in McSweeney's.
It's a short little thing; how's it so good in so few words?? A Marcy mystery.
This is one of the greatst first lines, and this story makes me hungry. (I just started eating meat again a few weeks ago.) Love this one's "meatiness"! It has a raw quality to it and it's great how you render the N's indulgence, her freedom with that. It's a great one!
I like that first heavy paragraph. It's heady, and then the piece slows down. The ending feels just right, cow juice getting licked off her breasts.
This is wicked good. "Your parents have an excellent grill." ha. Grill sounds like girl. But you meant that.
Sister torture/play. You know it. Jordan's just the cook.
Makes me crave the Krystal in Hattiesburg that we used to hit after the bars closed (at midnight back then).
Pia, I've been to that Krystals! I wish I meant that grill + girl. Sometimes, I get lucky.
Thanks, Claudia, Kim and Melissa, too. I was out of the country when the issue of McSweeney's came out. This reaction has been much more fun.
Oh, I love your sharp humor. (Theresa, my little sister, is a principled girl. She has to be. She wears great big glasses and has these heavy braces. !!!)
Fine fun.
I agree wit Kim. This story also makes my hungry.
My girlfriend is a vegetarian so maybe that further adds to its allure.
"Trust the cow." This needs to be on a t-shirt.
Wonderful story!
Really liked this. Grand title, too.
At his story about cows, Jurgen refers readers to your story about cows. He's right: this is terrific. The language is colloquial, enjoyably wordy, not mouthy. I particularly like the description of the sister with a face people miss because she talks about the environment with braces in.
(This has become a day to consider cows: In the NYTimes I learned that cows with names produce six per cent more milk than anonymous cows.)
So, what was the exercise? Simply to write about cows?
I love the voice here, how this little gem of a story effortlessly spills forth.
Thanks, Cynthia. It was the super simplest of excercises. A photo of cows. One two three go.
This is totally wild and so very fun. A fab write!
"For years and years, what did I think about? Being skinnier and skinnier still. Now it's Jordan, sex, and meat."
Love this voice! Wicked! *
Thanks, Kim. It's funny, wicked is the word being tossed around to describe BAD MARIE, too.
Thanks, Kim. It's funny, wicked is the word being tossed around to describe BAD MARIE, too.
You got this from a picture of cows?
No, no surely you didn't!
You got this from an imagination that pings out "stuff" when other people's just watches TV.
Hi Marcy -- Just testing email delivery of comments. Please ignore...
Love this story! The voice is very strong and the ending is perfect.