A murder of cows
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Cows are some of the most dangerous creatures in the universe. Oh, they'll fool you, serenely standing around or ambling about, chewing a bit, standing a bit, gathering a bit on all the high places and refusing to come down and generally not doing much of anything but eating and digesting, but they are dangerous. Very dangerous.
Singularly, they are merely cows, singular cows, nothing more, serene and dangerous, sure, but just cows. It is when they gather, however, that the cows become a true murder. Usually upon a small hillock or a pile of dirt or even at the top of a flight of scares, this plurality of cows is known only as a 'murder' - hence the idiom a murder of cows and hence why they are indeed so terribly feared. Because there are a lot of them. And they are called a murder. Murders are scary.
Cows attacked my sister
It's true. They did. She was out walking one merry morning, with daisies and other purple flowers blooming along the road, or possibly in the road, assuming that thing was even a road; it might have been a ditch, now that I think about it... but she was out walking and it was nice out and all that, and definitely not thunderstorming, because that happened the next day, not this one. The next day, when she was all traumatised after she got attacked by cows, right? Except I'm not quite there yet, so bear with me. There were bears or something. Big fat ugly bears and they scared the cows, and the scared cows came after her like a swarm of bear-scared cows, and they swarmed! Like a murder of course, because there were a whole lot of them.
Basically they wound up attacking her. It was terrible. She had a hoofprint on her blanket a brick wide and everything. And she was all traumatised. I said that, right?
Don't you like daisies?
She did pick some nice daisies, though. But then the cows attacked her.