Cow Lore Essay, Research Paper 1 Cow Lore NicoleR.Taris 12-07-98 Assign.4A long long time ago, in a distant galaxy, was the planet “Cud”. On this ancient planet lived the warlike race of the Cowfolk, a race of people who had evolved and broken into two major groups. The first group, the Beefers, were a rough and barbaric race. They were the type, who enjoyed loud music and a mug of ale, with a serving wench on their lap even the women. Their leader, known as “Mike the Big Tough Guy” was as large man of great poundage. He had unkept hair that flew wildly in the wind, and a cute, wellgroomed moustache. The Beefers worked hard and played harder and smelled. The tavern was alive with music, the thumps of dancing and clapping, and cheers of joy. Their steeds, consisting mostly of Longhorn and Black Anguses, mooed calmly outside, having had their reigns tied to those horizontal post things you see in all those western movies. Mike pushed the serving from his lap and awkwardly staggered to stand atop his table. The music and dancing immediately stopped in respect. “If it’s a war the Milkers want,” he slurred, tipping this way and that, nearly losing his balance. “Then it’s a war they’ll get.” His statement was met with a round of deafening cheers, which soon died back down. “You are all people of war and when we clash tomorrow, I want you to do what you do best. I want you to destroy whoever gets in your way.” Another round of cheers exploded, then died down. “Tomorrow, milk will be released from the confines of their bodies it will flow through o’er the plains like a river and will dye the moon white!” He held up his large tankard of ale to the ceiling. ” We will show our true selves to The Great One In The Sky we will show our Lord, the mighty 2 N.TarisBlack Angus, that we are worthy of him! To YOU, my Lord!” Mike lowered his arm and swilled the remainder of the ale. With the backward tossing of his head causing unconsciousness, Mike lost his balance and fell back, crashing down heavily onto a nearby table, ing it in half. The tavern broke into wild cheers of excitement Mike had aroused their for milk and they poured out of the small inn and into the dark streets, literally tasting the upcoming hour of battle.The second, the Milkers, were a much more gentlepeople. They only warred when they absolutely had to, and preferred to spin yarn, play their lutes, and had a habit of wandering aimlessly about the town, reciting poetry. Love and nature were constantly in the air, even on the brink of war. “But will it HOLD?” Fred asked the blacksmith. Fred The NotSoStrong But Very Nice and A Swell Person was the official leader. His people wanted to add “Good Smelling” to his name, but decided that such a length would just be plain silly. “Aye, it’ll hold,” the blacksmith snapped back, almost sounding offended. “I’ve been using this armor for as long as I can remember, and it’s never done me wrong before.” They were looking over one of the plates used in the armor for the cows when they go into battle. Traditionally, the armor would consist of several plates, covering almost the entire body of the cow. The udders, being one of the most sensitive parts of the beast, would have a coating of chainmail lying under a coat of platemail. “Go on,” the blacksmith encouraged Fred. “Go on, take your best shot at it.” 3 N.TarisFred looked at the blacksmith for a moment before taking a step back, drawing a mace from a nearby wall, and striking the armor with all his force. Colorful sparks flew from the point of impact, but upon inspection, the armor remained completely unscathed. “Very impressive,” Fred said, stroking the point of impact with his fingers to feel for any damage, of which he found none. “Very impressive, indeed.” “And you ask if it’ll hold,” the blacksmith mocked him. “Well, that first sword you made me snapped in half when I tripped over it.” Fred explained, standing up straight. “That’s got nothin’ to do with it,” the blacksmith yelled. “It was faulty metal, I tell you NOT my work look, the Beefers are likely going to attack at dawn. DO you, or do you NOT want my armor?” Fred stayed silent for a moment. “Of course I do,” Fred said. “And your payment will arrive by your waking time tomorrow.” “So be it,” the blacksmith said, turning and continuing to hammer out the large sheet of red hot armor which had only moments before been in the blazing fire. Fred looked at his back for a moment before turning and walking out of the large room. “Put back the mace,” the blacksmith said, still hammering, and not having turned around. “How about you throw it in for free?” Fred asked. “On the wall,” the blacksmith said. “You may be my leader, but I’ve got to make my own money, y’know ” Fred placed the mace back on the wall and walked out. “Cheeky ,” the blacksmith mumbled.4 N.TarisMike’s eyes flew open suddenly, and he abruptly sat up in his bed. He looked around the dark room quickly, and just had time to recognize his surroundings as his room before his head began to pound with a hangover. He flopped onto his back again, breathing a large sigh of relief. The past few hours were a complete blur with small clips of memory in them. He saw a lot of ale, and a lot of women. He barely remembered standing up on the table and all those cheers he received from his people how he’d made a speech about the upcoming battle. His happy expression turned to on of concern. The battle. His thoughts of a wonderful, drunken, wench filled night were disrupted by the impeding thoughts of the battle. He had promised his warriors that they would win an easy victory, when he wasn’t certain of it himself. He didn’t want to let them down, but had no guarantee of victory. Or perhaps he did. His smile returned as he sluggishly crawled from the bed, lighting a candle and leaving his room. “I wish to win the battle tomorrow,” Mike explained to the sorcerer through the wisps of smoke rising from the cauldron. The room smelled of spices and odd elixirs, and the air was almost alive with magic. “I want you to create a storm, the likes of which have never been seen before. Can you do it?” The sorcerer remained quiet behind the rising smoke; his ultrahigh back collar and slicked back hair his beady red eyes gave off an aura of evilness. His eyes beamed into Mike’s, sending a shiver to his very soul. “Are you certain that is what you want?” The sorcerer asked in a very monotone voice, almost inhuman.5 N.Taris”What will happen if you do?” Mike asked excitedly. “Will it work? Can you tell me?” The sorcerer kept his eyes fixated on him, continuing to chill Mike to his core. Without a word, the sorcerer raised a hand and began waving it, palm down, over the green liquid in the large cauldron. The smoke immediately ceased rising, and a began shimmering on the surface of the liquid. As he continued the slow circles with his hand, the became more and more clear. It could now be seen as a large green plain with gray clouds forming in the sky. Mike leaned over, staring intently in the . “Hey, that’s us!” Mike said, smiling, as he saw an army in the , mounted on beef cattle, marching from left to right. Another army could be seen coming from the right. “Milkers!” Mike growled, sneering. The changed from the close-up to a more distant , viewing the entire plain, upon which the armies were merely a large field of smallish dots, charging at each other. A storm suddenly broke out; lightning flooded the sky, as rain poured down with incredible force. Wind gusted with such force; many were knocked clean from their steeds, and could not remain standing. All at once, the earth broke open and swallowed the entire army of the Milkers. Within mere seconds, the gaping tear in the planet’s crust, which immediately sealed itself back up, as if nothing had ever happened, had swallowed the whole army. The storm ended as quickly as it had begun, and sunshine spilled down through a blue sky, blazing upon the Beefers, who appeared to get off their cows and each do their own little victory dances. The faded away.6 N.Taris”Amazing,” Mike exclaimed, astonished at the sight. He stood up straight once again and looked at the sorcerer, who was already being hidden once again by the rising smoke. “And that IS what will happen when you cast your spell?” The sorcerer slowly nodded once. “Y,know,” Mike said, resting his hand against a nearby shelf. “I think you just talk far too much heheh.” The sorcerer glared at him. “Ok, well I’d best be going then,” Mike said, backing out of the doorway. “And thanks again.” Soon after, the army of the Beefers slowly marched over a slight rise, and stood waiting at one end of the vast plain. They stood in a wide line, and were dozens of cattle deep, boasting a full five hundred head. The Nobel Horn Tooters trotted up from the back of the army, and sounder their long horns. The Artistic Horn Blowers of the Land, from the Milkers, who were waiting at the other end of the plain, blew their long horns. The Milkers were greater in number, which would compensate for their apparent lack of speed. Both sides anxiously awaited the battle. “Can you hear me?” Mike yelled across the plain to Fred. “Not too well,” Fred screamed back, his voice badly faded over the large distance. Mike reached into his saddlebag and pulled out his megaphone. He held it up to his mouth and squeezed the lever. A brief squeal of feedback preceded his voice. “Is this better?” Mike asked, his voice booming. Fred raised a thumb in response. “Fred The NotSoStrong But Very Nice,” Mike started. “Prepare to become Fred The NotSoStrong But Very Nice ON ICE!” His comrades roared with laughter at their leader’s fabulous wit.7 N.Taris”Oh, YEAH?” Fred screamed back, having foolishly left his megaphone at home. “Well, you know what they call a cow with no legs?” Mike was silent for a moment as curious chatter filled his ranks. He held up his megaphone again. “Ok I give up what?” Mike responded. “GROUND BEEF!” Fred screamed. The laughter of the Milkers could easily be heard clear across the plain. Mike’s face reddened with hatred. He stuffed the megaphone back in his saddlebag and lowered that visorthing on his helmet. He whipped his sword from its sheath and raised it forwards. “CHARGE!” Mike screamed. The cattle started slowly, but soon gained their full speed of five mile per hour. The Milkers, having been caught off guard, mucked around a little before finally getting organized and making their move. Not long before the two armies clashed, the Fools made their move. The Fools were those few sent by each side, to hop from their steeds and run ahead of the charging beasts in attempt to attack the oncoming army with small pointed sticks and croutons. Normally, they would only succeed in downing five or six of the enemy before being ed themselves. Often the Fools would run into each other midfield, in which case they would attempt to beat the other by out croutoning them. Fully engrossed in their own fight, neither usually notices the oncoming armies and typically get their heads cut off. Just as the last Fool was hacked to his , and as Fred and Mike were raising their weapons to rip each other apart, the sky suddenly filled with ominous dark clouds. 8 N.TarisA really wind kicked up, blowing many a fighter from their steed, and causing the loose croutons to fly about madly. The rain began pouring down with incredible force, hard enough to hurt any exposed skin. Lightning lit up the sky like fireworks, and the thunder peeled through the very bodies of mortal. “HaHa!” Mike screamed, standing in his saddle and raising his hands to the sky. He lowered his sword and pointed it at Fred, his face streaming with rain. “Now you will experience the true power of the Beefers! Now you will know what a silly thing it is to even THINK of warring with us! This, you pathetic poetry loving twit THIS is YOUR DOOM!” A deafening was heard over Mike’s insane laughter, and the planet itself shook wildly. A gaping rip formed in the planet’s crust, and swallowed the entire Beefer army whole, then closed up as if nothing had happened. The clouds cleared instantly, and sunshine poured down onto the Milker army, which simply sat in their saddles and scratched their collective heads, wondering what the hell had just happened. The planet, however, was not prepared to take on such an overload of evil. It had been balanced for all these centuries between good and evil, and having absorbed all this negative emotion was simply too much strain on it superstructure. And with a final rumble, planet Cud exploded into billions of little grassy bits. It is still believed that if you look into the right place in the sky at night, sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can till make out the stars which for all the world, resemble two cattle, a beefer and a milker, about to knock heads.NormalNormalDefault Paragraph FontDefault Paragraph FontBody TextBody Texth206422C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Document1.asdh206422C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Document1.asdh20642h20642C:My DocumentsCow Lore.docC:My DocumentsCow Lore.doch206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh20642h20642C:My DocumentsCow Lore.docC:My DocumentsCow Lore.doch20642h20642A:Cow Lore.doc ??Times New RomanTimes New RomanSymbolSymbolK,fxK,f+K,fh20642h20642h20642h20642h20642Normal.doth20642Microsoft Word 8.0_PID_GUID{9BD4CFA2-8E0D-11D2-8C3B-00A024243F4E}{9BD4CFA2-8E0D-11D2-8C3B-00A024243F4E}Root Entry1Table1TableWordDocumentWordDocumentSummaryInformationSummaryInformationDocumentSummaryInformationDocumentSummaryInformationMy Do2M??CompObjCompObjObjectPoolObjectPoolMicrosoft Word DocumentMSWordDocWord.Document.8

Cow Lore Essay, Research Paper 1 Cow Lore NicoleR.Taris 12-07-98 Assign.4A long long time ago, in a distant galaxy, was the planet “Cud”. On this ancient planet lived the warlike race of the Cowfolk, a race of people who had evolved and broken into two major groups. The first group, the Beefers, were a rough and barbaric race. They were the type, who enjoyed loud music and a mug of ale, with a serving wench on their lap even the women. Their leader, known as “Mike the Big Tough Guy” was as large man of great poundage. He had unkept hair that flew wildly in the wind, and a cute, wellgroomed moustache. The Beefers worked hard and played harder and smelled. The tavern was alive with music, the thumps of dancing and clapping, and cheers of joy. Their steeds, consisting mostly of Longhorn and Black Anguses, mooed calmly outside, having had their reigns tied to those horizontal post things you see in all those western movies. Mike pushed the serving from his lap and awkwardly staggered to stand atop his table. The music and dancing immediately stopped in respect. “If it’s a war the Milkers want,” he slurred, tipping this way and that, nearly losing his balance. “Then it’s a war they’ll get.” His statement was met with a round of deafening cheers, which soon died back down. “You are all people of war and when we clash tomorrow, I want you to do what you do best. I want you to destroy whoever gets in your way.” Another round of cheers exploded, then died down. “Tomorrow, milk will be released from the confines of their bodies it will flow through o’er the plains like a river and will dye the moon white!” He held up his large tankard of ale to the ceiling. ” We will show our true selves to The Great One In The Sky we will show our Lord, the mighty 2 N.TarisBlack Angus, that we are worthy of him! To YOU, my Lord!” Mike lowered his arm and swilled the remainder of the ale. With the backward tossing of his head causing unconsciousness, Mike lost his balance and fell back, crashing down heavily onto a nearby table, ing it in half. The tavern broke into wild cheers of excitement Mike had aroused their for milk and they poured out of the small inn and into the dark streets, literally tasting the upcoming hour of battle.The second, the Milkers, were a much more gentlepeople. They only warred when they absolutely had to, and preferred to spin yarn, play their lutes, and had a habit of wandering aimlessly about the town, reciting poetry. Love and nature were constantly in the air, even on the brink of war. “But will it HOLD?” Fred asked the blacksmith. Fred The NotSoStrong But Very Nice and A Swell Person was the official leader. His people wanted to add “Good Smelling” to his name, but decided that such a length would just be plain silly. “Aye, it’ll hold,” the blacksmith snapped back, almost sounding offended. “I’ve been using this armor for as long as I can remember, and it’s never done me wrong before.” They were looking over one of the plates used in the armor for the cows when they go into battle. Traditionally, the armor would consist of several plates, covering almost the entire body of the cow. The udders, being one of the most sensitive parts of the beast, would have a coating of chainmail lying under a coat of platemail. “Go on,” the blacksmith encouraged Fred. “Go on, take your best shot at it.” 3 N.TarisFred looked at the blacksmith for a moment before taking a step back, drawing a mace from a nearby wall, and striking the armor with all his force. Colorful sparks flew from the point of impact, but upon inspection, the armor remained completely unscathed. “Very impressive,” Fred said, stroking the point of impact with his fingers to feel for any damage, of which he found none. “Very impressive, indeed.” “And you ask if it’ll hold,” the blacksmith mocked him. “Well, that first sword you made me snapped in half when I tripped over it.” Fred explained, standing up straight. “That’s got nothin’ to do with it,” the blacksmith yelled. “It was faulty metal, I tell you NOT my work look, the Beefers are likely going to attack at dawn. DO you, or do you NOT want my armor?” Fred stayed silent for a moment. “Of course I do,” Fred said. “And your payment will arrive by your waking time tomorrow.” “So be it,” the blacksmith said, turning and continuing to hammer out the large sheet of red hot armor which had only moments before been in the blazing fire. Fred looked at his back for a moment before turning and walking out of the large room. “Put back the mace,” the blacksmith said, still hammering, and not having turned around. “How about you throw it in for free?” Fred asked. “On the wall,” the blacksmith said. “You may be my leader, but I’ve got to make my own money, y’know ” Fred placed the mace back on the wall and walked out. “Cheeky ,” the blacksmith mumbled.4 N.TarisMike’s eyes flew open suddenly, and he abruptly sat up in his bed. He looked around the dark room quickly, and just had time to recognize his surroundings as his room before his head began to pound with a hangover. He flopped onto his back again, breathing a large sigh of relief. The past few hours were a complete blur with small clips of memory in them. He saw a lot of ale, and a lot of women. He barely remembered standing up on the table and all those cheers he received from his people how he’d made a speech about the upcoming battle. His happy expression turned to on of concern. The battle. His thoughts of a wonderful, drunken, wench filled night were disrupted by the impeding thoughts of the battle. He had promised his warriors that they would win an easy victory, when he wasn’t certain of it himself. He didn’t want to let them down, but had no guarantee of victory. Or perhaps he did. His smile returned as he sluggishly crawled from the bed, lighting a candle and leaving his room. “I wish to win the battle tomorrow,” Mike explained to the sorcerer through the wisps of smoke rising from the cauldron. The room smelled of spices and odd elixirs, and the air was almost alive with magic. “I want you to create a storm, the likes of which have never been seen before. Can you do it?” The sorcerer remained quiet behind the rising smoke; his ultrahigh back collar and slicked back hair his beady red eyes gave off an aura of evilness. His eyes beamed into Mike’s, sending a shiver to his very soul. “Are you certain that is what you want?” The sorcerer asked in a very monotone voice, almost inhuman.5 N.Taris”What will happen if you do?” Mike asked excitedly. “Will it work? Can you tell me?” The sorcerer kept his eyes fixated on him, continuing to chill Mike to his core. Without a word, the sorcerer raised a hand and began waving it, palm down, over the green liquid in the large cauldron. The smoke immediately ceased rising, and a began shimmering on the surface of the liquid. As he continued the slow circles with his hand, the became more and more clear. It could now be seen as a large green plain with gray clouds forming in the sky. Mike leaned over, staring intently in the . “Hey, that’s us!” Mike said, smiling, as he saw an army in the , mounted on beef cattle, marching from left to right. Another army could be seen coming from the right. “Milkers!” Mike growled, sneering. The changed from the close-up to a more distant , viewing the entire plain, upon which the armies were merely a large field of smallish dots, charging at each other. A storm suddenly broke out; lightning flooded the sky, as rain poured down with incredible force. Wind gusted with such force; many were knocked clean from their steeds, and could not remain standing. All at once, the earth broke open and swallowed the entire army of the Milkers. Within mere seconds, the gaping tear in the planet’s crust, which immediately sealed itself back up, as if nothing had ever happened, had swallowed the whole army. The storm ended as quickly as it had begun, and sunshine spilled down through a blue sky, blazing upon the Beefers, who appeared to get off their cows and each do their own little victory dances. The faded away.6 N.Taris”Amazing,” Mike exclaimed, astonished at the sight. He stood up straight once again and looked at the sorcerer, who was already being hidden once again by the rising smoke. “And that IS what will happen when you cast your spell?” The sorcerer slowly nodded once. “Y,know,” Mike said, resting his hand against a nearby shelf. “I think you just talk far too much heheh.” The sorcerer glared at him. “Ok, well I’d best be going then,” Mike said, backing out of the doorway. “And thanks again.” Soon after, the army of the Beefers slowly marched over a slight rise, and stood waiting at one end of the vast plain. They stood in a wide line, and were dozens of cattle deep, boasting a full five hundred head. The Nobel Horn Tooters trotted up from the back of the army, and sounder their long horns. The Artistic Horn Blowers of the Land, from the Milkers, who were waiting at the other end of the plain, blew their long horns. The Milkers were greater in number, which would compensate for their apparent lack of speed. Both sides anxiously awaited the battle. “Can you hear me?” Mike yelled across the plain to Fred. “Not too well,” Fred screamed back, his voice badly faded over the large distance. Mike reached into his saddlebag and pulled out his megaphone. He held it up to his mouth and squeezed the lever. A brief squeal of feedback preceded his voice. “Is this better?” Mike asked, his voice booming. Fred raised a thumb in response. “Fred The NotSoStrong But Very Nice,” Mike started. “Prepare to become Fred The NotSoStrong But Very Nice ON ICE!” His comrades roared with laughter at their leader’s fabulous wit.7 N.Taris”Oh, YEAH?” Fred screamed back, having foolishly left his megaphone at home. “Well, you know what they call a cow with no legs?” Mike was silent for a moment as curious chatter filled his ranks. He held up his megaphone again. “Ok I give up what?” Mike responded. “GROUND BEEF!” Fred screamed. The laughter of the Milkers could easily be heard clear across the plain. Mike’s face reddened with hatred. He stuffed the megaphone back in his saddlebag and lowered that visorthing on his helmet. He whipped his sword from its sheath and raised it forwards. “CHARGE!” Mike screamed. The cattle started slowly, but soon gained their full speed of five mile per hour. The Milkers, having been caught off guard, mucked around a little before finally getting organized and making their move. Not long before the two armies clashed, the Fools made their move. The Fools were those few sent by each side, to hop from their steeds and run ahead of the charging beasts in attempt to attack the oncoming army with small pointed sticks and croutons. Normally, they would only succeed in downing five or six of the enemy before being ed themselves. Often the Fools would run into each other midfield, in which case they would attempt to beat the other by out croutoning them. Fully engrossed in their own fight, neither usually notices the oncoming armies and typically get their heads cut off. Just as the last Fool was hacked to his , and as Fred and Mike were raising their weapons to rip each other apart, the sky suddenly filled with ominous dark clouds. 8 N.TarisA really wind kicked up, blowing many a fighter from their steed, and causing the loose croutons to fly about madly. The rain began pouring down with incredible force, hard enough to hurt any exposed skin. Lightning lit up the sky like fireworks, and the thunder peeled through the very bodies of mortal. “HaHa!” Mike screamed, standing in his saddle and raising his hands to the sky. He lowered his sword and pointed it at Fred, his face streaming with rain. “Now you will experience the true power of the Beefers! Now you will know what a silly thing it is to even THINK of warring with us! This, you pathetic poetry loving twit THIS is YOUR DOOM!” A deafening was heard over Mike’s insane laughter, and the planet itself shook wildly. A gaping rip formed in the planet’s crust, and swallowed the entire Beefer army whole, then closed up as if nothing had happened. The clouds cleared instantly, and sunshine poured down onto the Milker army, which simply sat in their saddles and scratched their collective heads, wondering what the hell had just happened. The planet, however, was not prepared to take on such an overload of evil. It had been balanced for all these centuries between good and evil, and having absorbed all this negative emotion was simply too much strain on it superstructure. And with a final rumble, planet Cud exploded into billions of little grassy bits. It is still believed that if you look into the right place in the sky at night, sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can till make out the stars which for all the world, resemble two cattle, a beefer and a milker, about to knock heads.NormalNormalDefault Paragraph FontDefault Paragraph FontBody TextBody Texth206422C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Document1.asdh206422C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Document1.asdh20642h20642C:My DocumentsCow Lore.docC:My DocumentsCow Lore.doch206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh206421C:WINDOWSTEMPAutoRecovery save of Cow Lore.asdh20642h20642C:My DocumentsCow Lore.docC:My DocumentsCow Lore.doch20642h20642A:Cow Lore.doc ??Times New RomanTimes New RomanSymbolSymbolK,fxK,f+K,fh20642h20642h20642h20642h20642Normal.doth20642Microsoft Word 8.0_PID_GUID{9BD4CFA2-8E0D-11D2-8C3B-00A024243F4E}{9BD4CFA2-8E0D-11D2-8C3B-00A024243F4E}Root Entry1Table1TableWordDocumentWordDocumentSummaryInformationSummaryInformationDocumentSummaryInformationDocumentSummaryInformationMy Do2M??CompObjCompObjObjectPoolObjectPoolMicrosoft Word DocumentMSWordDocWord.Document.8