And The Cow Jumped Over the Blue Moon

And the Cow Jumped Over the Blue Moon

Weird. Hilarious. Intergalactic Travel.

“The wildest space odyssey since Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.”

“Sci-fi and humor collide in the craziest, most entertaining way imaginable.”

“Not just funny. It’s also strangely meaningful!”

Help! My name is Dylan Callens, the author of this space-opera-gone-wrong. While trying to write a funny little tale, the dysfunctional idiot of a narrator, Bo Cowlien, has stuffed me away in an alternate universe. Now, no one is around to protect the integrity of my “incredible” storytelling.

I feel sorry for the crew of the Blue Moon; they are the ones that have to deal with Bo’s growing insanity. They don’t know about the drama that goes on behind the scenes. All I can do is hope that one of them figures it out before it’s too late…

From Chapter One:

“So let me get this right. I’m some kind of minotaur that’s both a character and the narrator?” Bo asked.

“No, not a minotaur. In fact, you should get angry anytime anyone suggests you are a minotaur. You are a Cowlien. It’s even your last name,” Dylan explained.

“How dare you insinuate that I’m a minotaur, you son of a…” Bo’s lips thinned and tightened as he stopped himself from finishing the insult. He rolled his eyes around the neutral white walls. The only pop of interest in the room was contained in a photograph of kids playing tug-of-war. Bo brushed his hoof-hands down the side of his spotted body hair and sighed. “I’m an alien cow, not a minotaur,” he said.

Dylan continued, “It’ll be my job to develop the plot, characters, and whatnot. Your job will be to tell the story in an interesting way. It’s an area that hasn’t gone well for me in the past, so I’ve decided to contract it out this time.”

Bo said, “Okay. I can do that. But some things are unclear.”

Dylan asked, “Like what?”

“For starters, where do I come from? What’s my backstory? I don’t have a good sense of who I am.”

“Your full name is Bo Cowlien. You came from a planet called Mignon. More precisely, your family farm was called Dressing’s Ranch, where you grew hay. You were the middle of three calflings born to Buttercup and Guinness Cowlien. Growing up on Mignon was pleasant, that is, until the accident. A fire ravaged the farm. Both of your parents died when you were fifteen while saving you and your siblings. It’s a classic superhero type of backstory.”

Bo’s mouth dropped, and his eyes moistened as he learned about his family’s tragic past.

“As is the tradition on Mignon, you were taken to the priestess at the House of Holstein when you were sixteen. There, you were given the prophecy that you would grow up to be a significant force in the universe. You would be bold and brave, if not a little conceited. In light of this, you were adopted by the House of Holstein and raised to understand the secrets of the universe, which is what gives you your godly powers throughout this story.”

“Wow, sounds like I’m crucial to all this,” Bo said.

“Yes, you are,” Dylan agreed. “But you’re not really part of the story, most of the time. Neither am I.” Dylan walked around the room a few times. He stopped in front of Bo, crossed his arms, and waited for a moment. Finally, when Dylan felt like he had accumulated enough gravitas, he said, “While at times we might not get along, we must not bicker during the story. It’s our job to tell this tale, not become a part of it.”

Bo nodded. “I get it. You want us to keep it professional.”

“Yes, exactly! Good.” Dylan sat down and wiped his hands down the chair’s armrest, trying to wick away the moisture that had accumulated on his clammy palms. “Next, just so you know, while this is not yet an official Book Industry Standards and Communications category, it should be filed under meta-space-opera-humor. It’s cutting-edge stuff. Do you think you can develop that style of tone in the narration?”

Bo kept looking around the neutrally colored room, largely uninterested in this part of the conversation. “Yeah, of course. I was raised to understand the secrets of the universe. Maintaining a narrative style should be easy.”

“Perfect. Next, if there are plot holes, it’s the narrator’s – your – fault, not mine. Perhaps in later episodes, the perceived plot holes will be cemented-up, perhaps not. Maybe they will get bigger. There is no way to know until we get there.

“And lastly, despite the impression that you might get from this interview here, Bo,” Dylan snapped his fingers to get Bo’s attention again. When Bo finally turned back to look him in the eyes, Dylan continued, “the focus of this story is primarily on the crew of a spaceship called the Blue Moon. The story isn’t about us. This dynamic of ours, and all of its meta-ness, is a vain attempt to create something unique, but it’s not the story itself.”