Three bulls stood in the pasture, chewing grass and watching the horizon. The oldest bull, who had ruled the ranch for five years, snorted confidently. “I have a hundred cows, and I’m not sharing a single one with some newcomer,” he declared.
The second bull, who had been there three years, nodded. “I’ve earned my fifty cows fair and square. No new bull is taking what’s mine.”
The youngest bull, who had only been around a year, flicked his tail. “You two barely let me have ten cows. I may be smaller, but I’m keeping every last one.”
Just then, an 18-wheeler rumbled into the pasture. The ramp lowered with a groan, and out stepped the biggest bull they’d ever seen—4,700 pounds of pure muscle, each step shaking the ground.
The first bull cleared his throat. “You know… maybe I can spare a few cows. No need for trouble.”
The second bull nodded quickly. “Honestly, fifty is too many anyway. I don’t mind sharing.”
They turned to the youngest bull, expecting him to back down. Instead, he was pawing the dirt, snorting, and shaking his horns like he was ready for a fight.
The oldest bull sighed. “Kid, don’t be stupid. Just give him some cows and walk away.”
The young bull grinned. “Oh, he can have all my cows. I just want him to know—I’m still a bull.”
