Go through the Process

You decide to hold your tongue and go through with the identification process.

“Alright. I’ll begin with your ear tag. The doctor walks over the the counter and pulls out a piercing gun. He cradles it in his hand as he walks toward you. He sets it down beneath your stomach.

“I’ll be right back, don’t you trouble your pretty little head.”

He walks out, and a minute or so later, returns to the room. He holds a yellow, plastic ear tag between his fingers. He presents it to you. It reads

JOSIE VACHE

IDENTIFICATION CODE: 46209742

JOINED THE HERD: 07/13/21

He places the yellow tag face down beneath you, swapping it out for the piercing gun. He lifts the gun, looks at you, and says

“Don’t worry, beautiful, it will feel like a small pinch.”

He lifts the gun to the right side of your head, inserts your earlobe, and pulls the trigger. You feel a sharp strike, like a pinch, as the doctor promised, and then the pain has passed. You sigh, knowing that getting your other ear pierced will be the same, eradicating the premonition of fear you had towards getting your ears pierced. You’re one step closer to rocking earrings!

He lifts the yellow tag, and places the knob in the hole he just pierced. He pulls a small yellow cap out of his pocket and screws it onto the knob, tightening it into place. He smiles and flicks the tag.

“Looks like your ear tag is as good as done.” He rubs your head. “You’re such a good girl!”

He walks back to the counter and places the piercing gun back inside, and pulls out a tattoo gun and large bottle of black ink. He approaches you with a sticker in his mouth. He sets down the gun and bottle, and pulls the sticker sheet from his teeth.

“Now, I’ve already scanned this barcode in as 46209742, so whenever your tattoo is scanned, your information will show up!” He shows you the sticker, which has a collection of thick and thin black lines forming a barcode. He swipes your lower back down with a disinfectant wipe before he pulls the sticker off of the paper and presses it down against your lower back, just above your tailbone.

You hear the whir of the tattoo gun powering on. He unscrews the cap off the bottle of ink and dips the tip of the gun in. Now covered in ink, he lifts the gun to your back.

“Get ready in 3… 2… 1…”

You feel a tiny prick in your lower back. The feeling slowly navigates its way up and down your lower back, making many lines, narrow and stout. After a couple minutes, you hear the tattoo gun buzz out to silence and feel the pricking sensation in your back die down. Doctor Inek blows gently on the area of your fresh tattoo, letting it dry. He puts away the ink and gun. He returns with a paper towel and pats off the area of the tattoo.

“2/3 there, but unfortunately, we have the worst one left. I’m sorry.”

He grabs a white cloth from his chest pocket, balls it up, and places it in your mouth.

“I find that it’s easier when you have something to clench your teeth against.”

He walks out of the room and you try to maintain your calm and prevent hyperventilation. The door opens and Dr. Inek returns with a red-hot rod.

“I’ve had this sitting in the coals for about half an hour. He shows you the brand and you examine it closely.

He walks behind you and takes a deep breath.

“Coming in hot in 3… 2… 1”

You suck in your breath in anticipation. First, you feel the pressure, like having an object pressed against you. Then the heat hits you. It feels like the worst hell you’ve ever endured. No words can describe the pain. Your jaw snaps against the cloth as you let out a pain filled howl. Your eyes start watering with pain and the smell of burning flesh wafts up to your nostrils.

Dr. Inek briskly walks out of the room and returns just seconds later, branding iron no longer in hand. You sob with pain as he holds an ice pack against your branding. He pats your head and comforts you until the pain fades.

“Are you okay, Jolie Vache?”

You quietly nod your head.

“What a good girl! You handled that like a pro! And to believe you’re a heifer with no experience! Bravo!”

His words of praise make you feel proud like you can’t explain.

“No that we’ve gotten all of the painful regulations out of the way, we have one last step: making you a real cow! You sure as hell look pretty, but that doesn’t help anyone when you’re as sterile as alcohol and drier than Nevada!” He chuckles aloud.