The Town of Lamont's dreams of reflected glory and world-wide recognition were dashed on the cruel rocks of Fate late Tuesday when their chosen champion, "Sweet Pea", a 2 year old area heifer, had to withdraw from the much anticipated "Cow Olympics" after bruising a hoof or straining a tendon or something while in training for the highly competitive and ruthlessly cutthroat '200 meter dash to the saltlick" that is considered by many to be the premier event of bovine prowess and athleticism. "Well, I had her training out by the creek (pronounced crick) and she was giving it all she had - just straining to beat all I ever seen, (udders were flying everywhere!) when out of no where some dadburn badger came boiling out of the rocks and spooked her!" said Festus Martin, an area rancher and professional bovine trainer. "Well, it ain't like badgers and cows are good friends or nothing, so Sweet Pea just assumed that a charging badger had less than honorable intentions and attempted to run off the trail in a blind panic where she must have struck her dern hoof on a rock or something. When she came limping back onto the trail that leads back to the barn, we both knew that our dreams for a gold medal and world-wide fame were gone. She just looked up at me with those sad, cow-brown eyes as if to say 'Sorry coach. I let down the team'" he said, wiping away a tear. "Oh, the agony of defeat! If we could have just caught that on film, however, we could have run that on all those commercials for the "Cow Olympics" like that skier guy who fell off that big ski jump and just tumbled like a rag-doll or whatever. I must have seen that 1000 times if I seen it once" he said reflectively after gaining a hold of himself. "With the royalties from that clip alone I could afford that dream house right next to 'Dollywood', for Pete's sake!"The Town, well-versed in almost every conceivable form of failure and rejection, is taking this latest twist of the world's cruel knife very badly. "Well, I have always said that we were cursed" said the deflated, now-spiritless Mayor. "I just wonder if the whole doggone town is built on some sort of voodoo burial ground or something" he said dejectedly while lowering the flag to half-mast (for the 7th time this year alone!). "Just once you would think that we could succeed at something, for Pete's sake! Is that too much to ask? It would appear that even our cows are jinxed now! Oh, when will we be delivered from this vortex of failure? When will the fickle finger of Fate quit thumping us on the forehead? Oh, when will all this madness stop and sheer random chance allow us to succeed even in some small way??" he concluded pathetically while curling himself into the fetal position in the center of the Town Hall office (which allowed him to notice that the carpet hadn't been vacuumed in quite a while - thus increasing his rising feelings of hopelessness, despair and a complete and total lack of control over any aspect of the town).
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