Aaron and Babe were playing matador beside the barn. Aaron was on his hands and knees, pawing the dirt with a hand and snorting. He launched himself at the younger boy, who was holding a dirty flour sack. 

"Ole!" said Babe as he jumped out of the way. "Do it again."

"I'm done," said Aaron. He was panting, and had beads of sweat on his forehead.

"Now that we've practiced, we can go play matador with the cows," Babe said. He hopped up and ran into the field. Aaron didn't protest because he knew the cattle would just run away from the small boy with the flour sack. The cows lifted their heads and looked at the boys as they approached. They didn't turn to walk away until the boys were very close. Babe was disappointed that they jogged away. "Cowards," he said and he glared at them.

"Why don't they chase me? Is it because the sack isn't red?" asked Babe.

"I don't know, maybe it's because you're not a real matador," said Aaron.

They walked back to the house. Babe chattered nonsensically the whole time.

Aaron headed for the house, but Babe ran behind the house to the corrals. There was a cow and her calf in the pen. He ran back to the house to get Aaron.

"Come on, the reason the cows won't chase us is because they aren't mean, but the one in the pen has horns, and she's mean," said Babe.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Aaron said.

"Well, I'll be a matador without you," Babe said.

Aaron sat in the kitchen eating an apple. Tension built in his gut. He set the apple on the table and jogged to catch up with Babe.

"Wait, let me try it out first," he said.

"I wanna go first," Babe said. He held the sack behind his back.

"Just let me try it out, to make sure it's safe before you do it," said Aaron. Babe handed the sack to him. Aaron climbed over the fence. The big red cow with horns raised her head and looked at him. He shook the sack at her. She ran at him. He stepped aside at the last instant.

"Ole!" yelled Babe.

The cow followed Aaron and her horn caught him in the mouth and ripped his cheek out to his ear.

Fifty years later, an old man with a scar up to his ear, and Babe were sitting at the kitchen table talking.

"Ya know why playing matador with the cow didn't work," said Aaron. He rocked back in his chair and took a slurp of coffee.

"You weren't fast enough," said Babe. He knocked some ash off the end of his cigarette into a small crystal ashtray.

"Do you ever see matadors playing with cows?" said Aaron.

 "No," said Babe.

"There's a reason for that, cows don't blink." 

"What the hell does blinking have to do with matadors and cows and bulls?" 

"A bull closes his eyes just before he bashes something with his head, giving the matador time to step away. A cow doesn't blink," said Aaron. He ran a finger along his scar. 

Babe pulled a red handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. He shook it and said, "Ole."