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HERE COMES KING KOW!

SAYS STUNNED DAIRY FARMER: “I THINK IT WAS SOMETHING IN THE WATER.”

When rumors starting flying about a giant gorilla-cow hybrid, Weekly World News was the first on the scene. We zeroed in on the McGann Dairy Farm, a 2,000-acre spread in Nummer, Wisconsin. As we pulled up to the expansive farm, we saw dozens of barns and milking facilities as well as a huge fenced-in area, boasting thirty-foot logs spread out as if a jungle enclosure.

The farm’s owner, Edward Michael McGann, greeted us as we arrived. He was wearing a mask and gloves but, still, we bumped elbows. “When I knew this story would break out, I immediately called Weekly World News,” he said. “I knew if you could handle Bigfoot stories fairly, you could handle this. I mean, the national media would treat me as a fool, me being just an ordinary Rhodes scholar turned dairy farmer.”

He led us to the gate of the wooden enclosure. It had a “fort-like” feel to it, with the walls of logs only interrupted by a massive gate. McGann reached up to grab a conch shell and “owooo’d” it. Slowly, the gate began to shimmy, with fellow bib-overalled farmers cranking it open.

There, before us, stood a very puzzled animal. It was a twenty-foot tall gorilla with a cow’s head. “We call him King Kow,” McGann said, waving at the big thing. King Kow waved back. A catapult sent in a mixture of hay and bananas inside the enclosure. The creature clapped and turned to his lunch as the gate was cranked closed.

Ed McGann exhaled. “Ain’t that a pisser?”

“HE’S A GOOD CRITTER, WHATEVER HE IS.”

As we stood before the huge gate, McGann said: “He’s a good critter, whatever he is. He plays and hangs out with the cows. Sometimes, he tips some of them over as a joke. He rights ‘em back up after he laughs a bit. He lets the goats climb over him and groom him by chewing down the hair. And he’s taken a real liking to my niece Faye. She’s a veterinarian and he carries her everywhere. She’s loving it.

“How Kow came to be born? I think it was something in the water. We have a stream that most of our animals use and, one day, it was almost day-glow. We called the EPA, but we got a brush-off. Now, dairy farmers are tight. We hear things.

“So, when a friend of mine said the EPA was going to investigate our upstream neighbor, Killem Inc. Pesticide Company, I grew suspicious.”

THE EPA MOOS IN

He sat down on a boulder in the middle of the field. “Now, I love my country, but lately the EPA has been stomping out almost all rules and regulations that keep everything safe, so I decided to see what was going on by myself. I got on King Kow’s shoulder and he lumbered across the expanse of our land. The views were breath-taking.

“We got to the edge of our property and I pulled my binoculars out. I watched the EPA geeks pull up and greet the plant foreman. The guy had two heads! Seriously! And a hand and a hoof! Right then, I knew things were not normal. When the foreman’s two assistants appeared? I definitely knew there was something amiss. One lady had a giraffe’s head. Another guy looked like ‘The Blob’ in sweatpants. Clearly, these were more than affirmative action hires.

“I thought that the government would really tackle this. They didn’t. The only thing I found out was that the EPA was shipping in truckloads of hydroxychloroquine

“Kow and I moved back home. I gave him a shovel-full of extra bananas and he was fine.

I WAS SHOCKED AT WHAT CAME NEXT.”

McGann was shocked at what came next. “I was shocked at what came next,” he confides. “Government troop planes were landing all over, evacuating people from the pesticide plant.”

As they took off, I grabbed my bib-overalls and called Kow. We galloped towards the plant as it exploded! I mean: ka-blooie. Kow rushed me back home. He got several shovel-loads of treats for that one. With the plant gone, the water has returned to normal…almost.”

As to the future of King Kow?

McGann furrows his brow. “Well, he can’t be milked unless you want a crushed spine.

“I had a lot of letters from science outfits and universities who wanted him in captivity to test him and examine him. I was tempted but, then, I thought: no. He didn’t ask to be born this way. Then, I got a letter from a producer, Dick Hyman of The Hyman Group.

“He said I could keep Kow here and he’d conduct tours once the pandemic is over with. He built that fence. Get Kow an Internet identity, he advised. Once the pandemic was over, he’d have a ‘brand.’ I thought that sounded more than reasonable.”

His face reflected no joy, however. Was there a problem? “Well, Kow’s been acting a little confused, lately. We have a doctor examining him now. And, as for the water? We worry about the slice of stream that runs by the hen houses. I can’t be sure if it’s glowing or not.”

At that point, a jeep screeched up and a portly man leaped out.

“Dr. Klein!” McGann beamed. “How is King Kow?”

The doctor winced. “You might as well start referring to your mutant as Queen Kow. He’s a she and she is pregnant!”

As McGann lowered himself to his knees, his face a portrait of sweat, we heard from far behind him a thunderous: “BUCK, BUCK, BUCK, BUCK, BUCK-CAW!!!’

As we fled for our lives, McGann looked over at WWN. “I’m sure I’ll see you, again, soon.”

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