“Ah, Vladimir Putin. Glad to see you're out of retirement just to press the button” The general winks at Vlad, exultant to have one of the old guard ushering in the new age.
“The missiles are targeted at every major city in the world, and all of you have to do is initiate blast off.”
Putin stands staunch in his old uniform, his beer belly poking out the bottom of a shirt, the buttons visibly strained.
“This is a great day for communist Russia”, he slurs as he presses down the button hard, just to make sure. And from their bunker, on tall screens, they watch their missiles spread death across the ignorant globe.
Meanwhile, in the farmyard:
“Butter Blade, be a good cow and nail this, the last plank, to the new barn.”
“Why don’t you nail it yourself, you fat pervert”, replies the smart head, to the farmers consternation. The farmer knew the smart head was just a small negative aspect of an overall wonderful cow. “But if only it would shut up, Butter Blade would be perfect”, thought the farmer, stinging from those last remarks. However, he let it pass and Butter Blade finished the new barn with an easy wallop of a hoof. And it shone like a new star in a black vacuum.
But a rumble and a blast erupted from the east, from the Big City, light shining through the sky as if it were the sun. And from the massive eruption, trails of smoke could be seen.
“OH GOOD GOD! What was that?” exclaimed the farmer, seriously curious. The trails of smoke expanded and lengthened, over the countryside and over their shocked expressions. But the smart head leered silently, a satisfied look creasing his face.
“Go see what they were Butter Blade and do it double quick. I have a bad feeling about this.” And Butter Blade launched from the earth, her udders undulating from the G-forces.
As quick as a whip, she caught up with trials of smoke and the missiles leaving them behind. Recognising the cigar-shaped, flying explosives for what they were, she kicked at one with her hind legs, damaging it. It spins through the air, clanging into a second rocket and they both explode like a second sun to the west of the farm, sending Butter Blade, unconscious, into the Big Sea, two hundred miles away.
And as she awakes from the knock the smart head gives her, she can see beautiful fish gently floating to the surface. And bright lights flicker above the surface, like a ticking of a dying clock.